Page 58 of The Devil's Heir
I try consoling her just a bit by caressing my finger down her cheek. "Go back to sleep, pauper. In fact, I want you to sleep in. I'll inform the kitchen to hold off on your breakfast."
Without another word from either of us, I walk away. I rub my fingers together, feeling the wetness from Lily's tears, but I don't stop to acknowledge any of it. Closing the door behind me, I return to my room, where I take another shower before finally getting ready for my day.
"That's not fucking good enough!" I slam my hand down on the desk.
My shipping manager slinks back in his chair while I unload a plethora of curse words at him. This is the second time someone has tried to steal our shipments. I'd like to say that I'm happy none of the motherfuckers survived, but at the same time, I need answers, and you can't get answers from dead men.
"The guys said that none of them spoke English. They weren't sure what language it was, maybe Russian."
"Why the fuck would the Russians want my shipments? They have a much larger amount of weaponry than I've got."
It's true. Unless it's a small-time gang just starting off, none of the Russians would want my shit. No, this is more personal than anything.
"I want more men. I need men with no scruples getting their hands dirty and doing what needs to be done to keep my product safe. I have awhole new shipment going out, and I'll be damned if anything happens to it."
"Yes, Sir. I'll find more men and send them Joey's way to get vetted."
"Good. Now, get the fuck out of my office!"
Damn, what started off as a good day, no thanks to my pauper, has turned into a total shit show. My earlier meeting with Lonzo and the capos wasn't too bad, but it wasn't all that great either. One of my dancers turned up dead in the back alley of my most profitable club, and now I have to go in and talk to one of the detectives. It's not like I'm too worried; the police department is on my payroll.
Pressing the intercom button, I call for Lucinda. The woman is quick to enter my office, carrying a notepad. All she had to do was pick up the phone, but lately, she's been doing it old school. I don't give a fuck—as long as the job gets done.
"Yes, Mr. Falcon?"
I glance up to see my receptionist smiling at me. When I examine her attire, I notice an extra button on her blouse is undone. It's also a bit see-through, showcasing her black bra, and her pencil skirt fits her like a second skin.
"What the fuck are you wearing, Lucinda?"
Her smile drops, and she looks down at her clothing. "I'm sorry; what about my clothing, Sir?"
"It's inappropriate to wear here at the office. Now, cancel all my afternoon appointments, then go the fuck home and change. I don't want my receptionist looking like a damn escort."
"Y-yes, Mr. Falcon. I'm sorry, I didn't realize—"
"The fuck you didn't. You've been acting out of sorts since I brought Liliana here. Listen well, Lucinda; I'm not going to fuck you ever again, so stop trying to situate yourself into my personal life. Now get the fuck out."
I watch my receptionist run out. I could have handled it a little better but fuck that. She's a good receptionist, but that doesn't mean I'll put up with insubordination.
Standing, I turn off my computer and button my suit jacket before grabbing my phone and texting my driver. I'm over this day already, and it's not even half over.
THIRTY
Liliana
Jackson was left with instructions to pamper me all day. Apparently, it takes having my period to be treated like an actual human being when it comes to Jarek. However, sleeping in wasn't an option for me. After Jarek had left me, I cried.
I had a moment of weakness, letting my morals take hold for just a few minutes, but it was something I needed to do. Once I wiped the tears away, I hardened my resolve once again. But then, the memory of what Jarek did crashed down on me, and everything played on repeat in my head.
The way he woke me up and then went down on me even though I was bleeding still grosses me out. Maybe not as much as when he kissed me afterward, but still. Aside from all that, the way my body betrays me every time Jarek lays claim to it is disconcerting. I shouldn't like it as much as I do.
I had dragged myself out of bed an hour after Jarek left so I could remove the stupid plug he had inserted. What I saw in the mirror was horrific. It looked as if I had gone cannibalistic. Dried blood coated my face around my mouth, and I thought I was going to be sick.
I ran to the toilet, but all I did was dry heave. Without another thought, I turned the shower on and spent the next twenty minutes scrubbing away every part of my body that Jarek had touched. If I could have washed him from inside of me, I would have. Unfortunately, I did not find any feminine douche products among the other items stocked up for me.
After my shower, I sat in the corner of my room, reading under the lamplight until the sun was fully up and a knock sounded at my door. Jackson had a tray with breakfast on it.
"I had seen the light under your door, so I took it upon myself to have breakfast made for you," he had stated.
