Page 23 of Wicked Things
“You’re asking me to be a glorified babysitter?”
Roberto sighs, nodding just once. “If that’s what you want to call it, yes.”
“And how long exactly do you expect me to play nanny?”
Roberto appears to think on this, as if he hasn’t given it much thought until now. “I propose you help me in this way until the day your child is born. Once that day arrives and the lovely Doctor Romera forces your progeny from her cunt, I will release you from your debt to me.”
A low rumble of displeasure vibrates in the base of my throat. “If you talk about her like that again, I’m going to take that steak knife, cut off your dick and ram it down your own throat, motherfucker.”
Roberto’s laughter is loud this time—loud enough to startle the tables surrounding us into silence. I’m guessing hearing such a thing is a fairly uncommon event around here. Roberto grins, displaying a set of half rotten teeth that make my stomach twist. Wouldn’t take much to knock those fuckers clean out of his head. “You’re right, that was very rude of me,” he says. “Our Barbieri women are revered and respected. I shall make sure I refer to Sloane only in the most reverent of ways from here on out. Providing you are in agreement, and you are going to take this job?”
I know what I have to say. I know I have to agree, I don’t have another choice, but fuck…it’s so hard to part with the words. Part of me wants to kill this bastard right here and now and go back to Seattle, where Michael and me can figure out the Lowell situation on our own, but I’ve seen the file with my own two eyes. It’s a fucking miracle it hasn’t been placed in front of a judge already. If Sloane’s arrested, if she’s stressed, if she’s hurt when they take her, how will any of that affect the baby?
I can’t risk it. I just fucking can’t. “And what happens once I’m no longer working for you? I’m just allowed to go back to running my gym? You’ll never bother me or my family again?”
Roberto places his hands flat on the table. He looks down at them, apparently studying them. “Well. I’m not one to ever make a promise,” he says. “In my experience people are very upset if and when a promise is broken. The very best I can do is assure you that I won’t personally request your execution. But if you interfere with my representatives in Seattle once you’re done training them, I won’t stand in the way of whatever action they deem to call justice. My advice would be to leave Seattle altogether. That way, it will be impossible to consider you a threat.”
I laugh under my breath. “I won’t leave. I’ll never leave.”
“Then you are aware of the potential consequences.”
“And what if your representatives interfere inmybusiness? Am I free to deliver the same kind of justice to their doorstep?”
The smile that slowly spreads across Roberto’s face is sickly and cold. “No, Zeth. That would be very ill advised indeed. You see, the men I have chosen to run Seattle in my stead are more than just representatives of the Barbieri family. They are the very life and blood of the Barbieri family.” He holds up a hand, palm up, gesturing behind me. “Zeth Mayfair, may I introduce to you my sons, Theodore and Salvatore Barbieri.”
TEN
MASON
I wake up groaning. It’s not the groan of a hangover, though I’m definitely feeling that. It’s a groan of pleasure. My dick is hard, and someone is stroking it softly, teasing me, rubbing their fingers over the slick, wet head. I rock my hips up and forward, pushing into the gentle grip that has hold of me, and a shiver races down the length of my spine.
“Fuck. Uhhh, that feels so good.” It takes me a second to place myself—where I am and who I’m with. When I do remember, I freeze, placing a hand over Kaya’s, stopping her.
She’s laying behind me, spooning me, her small body flush against mine, her tits crushed up against my back. She huffs, her breath rushing over my skin. At some point in the night I shed my shirt and pants, and from the feel of things, Kaya lost most of her clothes, too. I don’t think anything happened, though. The cold shower I had before I climbed into bed was sobering enough; I would remember if we’d fucked. Kaya applies a little pressure, squeezing me, and I roll over to face her. “What are you doing?”
Her eyes are open, clear and focused. She studies me for a moment, her features completely blank. Her hand’s still resting on my dick. I want to take it off, but then again…my body is reacting to her in a very typical fashion. I’m turned on, and I’m angry at the same time. Kaya must ascertain this during her in depth study of my face.
“I want you inside me,” she says.
Rolling onto my back, I cover my face with my hands, groaning again, this time with frustration. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Kaya.”
“Why not? Because you think you’re going to hurt me?”
I don’t say anything. I hold my breath.
“Fine. Then hurt me. Bite me. Break my skin. Bruise me. Hit me if it’ll make you feel better. Punish me for stealing you away from Millie.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I hiss.
“I mean it.” She starts up again, stroking her hand up and down my dick. It feels good. It feelsreallyfucking good. I hate that I’m so turned on by her, but at the same time it feels completely natural. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever fucking seen. She’s fascinating. She’s fiery. She drives me crazy, and she lights me up from the inside. Honestly, I’m in love with the girl. I know I am. I don’t try and deny it, even to myself. But I can’t seem to get past this stupid fucking barrier inside my head that makes me want to pick her up and throw her out of this bed. And the words coming out of her mouth right now are like gasoline on an open fucking fire. The things she’s telling me to do…to use my body to cause her pain, to break her skin with her teeth, to press my fingers into her flesh hard enough to leave a mark? I want that more than anything. I want to fuck her, and I want to cause her pain. My need to do it is literally making me feel queasy. When did I turn into this animal, focused purely on my basic requirements for survival? The need to drink, to numb myself, to forget? The need to sleep, to check out of reality altogether, so I can disappear into my dreams, where even my nightmares are preferable to facing the fact that Millie is really, truly gone.
Andthis. This dark, filthy need in my veins. It disgusts me that Kaya can see it so clearly, can probably smell it on me. I don’t even feel like myself anymore. She sits up in the bed, looking down at me. Her bare breasts heave as she breathes, her nipples peaked and tightened into small pink rosebuds. “You’re not the only one who feels guilty, Mason. She wasn’t my sister, but I know what she meant to you. I can’t sleep at night, either. I can’t eat, or focus, or think of anything but that night. We both know that what happened was no one’s fault. Not really. Neither one of us are to blame. But we both feel this pain. Keenly. So let’s just accept it and move on. You’re meant to be with me, and I’m meant to be with you. Are you going to let your anger and your hurt consume every bright, good thing in your life forever? Or are you going to fight to live in a way that would make Millie happy, Mason? Because this isn’t what she would have wanted, surely?”
I close my eyes, grinding my teeth together, breathing jagged down my nose. “Please don’t do that. Please don’t use her like that.” It feels so wrong. So, so wrong. Because it’s easy for me to cling onto thoughts like that, like they’re a motherfucking life raft. She would want me to be happy. She would want me to have a rich and full life. It’s all bullshit, though. She was a baby. She would have wanted to live. She would have wanted to grow up, and learn, and play. Nothing more.
Kaya shifts on the bed. She pulls back the sheets that cover the lower half of my body, and the bed dips as she climbs on top of me, straddling me. I suck in a sharp breath as her body makes contact with mine. She feels so warm, so wet, her pussy on top of my hard erection. She rocks, just once, grinding herself against me, and my back arches without my permission.
“Stop, Kaya. Seriously.”
