NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 9
“Dad will never allow this to happen. If anything, you made it worse for our family by Rhett being here. If we’re found out, if one of the maids calls the cops. This ends badly one way or another.”
“Your father being alive is worse than any of those things?” She squints at me as if I want him to die.
I don’t.
This sounds messed up, but I love Dad more than Mom. She’s never allowed me to get close to her, always kept me at arms’ length for whatever reason. I always felt like she didn’t like me at all growing up because I didn’t like what she wanted to do and felt as if she used me for a party all the time. Don’t even get me started on what she thinks about me going back to school.
“You’re telling me that you wouldn’t do anything in your power to get him the blood he needs? Amirah, I’m completely appalled and shocked that you’d—”
“Of course I would,” I counter back. “I would’ve gotten on my knees in front of that man and begged him to be a donor!”
“Lower your tone, now.” The dip in her tone poses no question or argument, but I’m not overreacting here—obviously. There is nothing she can say that will make this better or for me to consider this to be okay. “You will never again spill our business in front of that man, do you hear me? I let you traipse around, go to school and obtain some worthless piece of paper so you could live a fool’s dream of being a fashion designer. Would it be so horrible for you to rely on a man to take care of you?”
“Yes.” I keep my mother's stare when I say, “I don’t need a man to make me happy, to build my life. I wanted to earn my right and position in this world, Mom. You married dad, fell in love—whatever. But I’m not going to waste away in a mansion while my husband gets to have all the fun or bring some happiness into someone’s day.”
My mother rises from the sofa, standing four inches over me in her Alexander McQueen heels. “You think I wasted my life away? That I have no skills to offer to this American dream you so often call it? I raised you girls—“ I scoff and promptly get slapped in the face for it.
My cheek burns with her anger, but I don’t regret what I said. Nannies raised me, not her. She was too busy picking out the next room she wanted to redecorate or the next party she was about to plan. She had to go shopping, buy a new car, get her nails done, her roots re-dyed, to meet with a travel agent, to have lunch with friends, to eye-fuck the pool boy on her balcony. Every single one of those excuses were the ones my mother claimed she had to do when all I wanted was five minutes of her time to talk about my day.
I gave up that at a young age.
Mom steps back and tucks her chin into her chest, appearing distraught for the first time. "I'm sorry, mon chéri, I—I'm scared."
I study her as she averts her gaze from me, shame covering her slowly aging features thanks to her religious laser skin resurfacing. I never want to be her. She relies on Dad so much that sometimes I think she forgot herself. However, I’ve never questioned her love for him. I can see it in her eyes when she looks at him. She adores his praise and attention and goes out of her way to make sure he’s fully cared for when he comes back home from Congress.
Just as much as I do.
"It's okay," I mutter, gingerly rubbing at my stinging skin. “We’re all scared, Mama." I take a step forward, a little uncomfortable because my mother and I, we don’t have these moments. Ones where she acts vulnerable and that she’s not shooting rainbows out of her butt.
She might not win the mother of the year award, but she's not a whoa-is-me kind of female either. She prides herself on all of her lavish hobbies, believing with all her heart that it's something worth bragging about.
In her world, it is.
In mine, not so much.
"I've been married to your father since I was twenty-one. I had four beautiful children with him, and then all of a sudden—" She snaps her manicured fingers. The sharp sound slicing through my nerves. "—he's diagnosed with not only an illness, but his blood is some rare type." She lets out a weak mirthless laugh. "Of course it is. Your father is a special man."
"He is," I agree. "It's going to be okay. We'll figure it out."
She raises her chin. “How? I'm trying to keep your sisters calm…but they're not like you, Amirah. They rely on me."
I shift my weight and blink twice because I need to ensure that the woman standing in front of me is still my mom. She’s never…complimented me like this before. Everything she thinks I do is silly and a waste of time.
"I'm just going to school, Ma."
"And making something of yourself." Her eyes gloss over and begin to water, hinting at something I’ve never seen her do in my entire life. "You barely let your father and I help you. You worked at that restaurant for years while going to college to pay for books and tuition. Thankfully, you allowed us to pay for the housing. You never needed me."
"I got into this because of you." Mindlessly, I grab her hand. It feels weird touching her like this but, I don't know, she sounds like she did a desperate act and didn't think it all the way through. "You were a model in Paris. I used to stare at all of your beautiful dresses in the closet and pretend I was you. I was...too clumsy to be a model, so I decided I'd make them. I tried to get into the whole politics game with Dad, but—" I lift my shoulders. "—I still wanted to be somewhat like my mom."
She releases a choked sob, and her free hand flies to her mouth. A tear falls to her cheek, and she quickly wipes it away. "Ma petite fille...thank you."
“Thanks for not kicking me out of your closet."
Her lips curl into a weak smile. "Well...it appears there is a mess that needs to be cleaned up. I hate to say this but, do you think he'll take the money and keep his mouth shut?"
Geezus.
"I'm not sure."
"Will you..." She puts on her strong face and straightens her spine again, dropping her hand from her face and squeezes my fingers. "Can you speak with him? Odette and Solange…they won't say what needs to be said. Their apology won't be heartfelt."
My skin crawls with the thought of having to face him again. He's not going to accept it. I can’t blame him either. However, he can’t be here when Dad and Laurent get home tonight and Mom’s right. I am the only one that can do this.
“I can try,” I compel from my throat, trying not to think of how badly this is going to go. If Rhett is even going to keep quiet about this.
He has every right to call the cops and get us for rape, kidnapping, and assault. God knows what else the cops would stick us with.
“A large sum of money should keep his lips sealed. If he accepts it, can he try to come at us with charges?”
This is a question for my brother, the lawyer, and I can’t ask him. I’m too ashamed to even admit out loud to anyone else besides Mom and my sisters what’s happened here. How I played a role when I should’ve listened to my gut and called Solange and Odette on their bluff.
“I guess it wouldn’t look good for him if he did,” I reply finally.
"Then we'll try that first." She nods to the door. "He's back in his room. We need to hurry before your father and brother return home."
Right.
I don't expect Amirah of all people to come into my furnished prison, especially with her face full of deep remorse and pity for what's happened. However, she should've been here five minutes ago when the two assholes who pulled me from the dining room used me on the carpeted floors for soccer practice.
I definitely could’ve used her then.
Amirah must notice the bruise that's forming on my cheek or the blood that's leaving my broken lip because she quickly strides inside and slams the door carelessly behind her.
"Oh my God," she quakes, getting into my space and stepping between my parted thighs like she didn't just see that I stabbed her sister with a dinner knife less than ten minutes ago. "Did those men do this to you?"
Her fingers reach to touch me, but I jerk my head back, not wanting any of her on me.
She's stupider than I thought.
It's been fucking days, and my patience—which I had an abundance of prior to this—is gone. I'm hungry, tired, and I want to go home. All I have in me is rage and a sense of shame coursing through me because I’m a man that allowed and couldn’t fight off three women from having sex with me.
Shit is not only downright embarrassing to even think about because how many men do you hear getting raped by women?
Yeah, it happens. But it doesn’t to someone like me.
I’m a stealth assassin. I make money killing and torturing people for a living.
I’m not the victim.
I’m the hunter.
The predator.
“Did they hurt you?” Amirah mutters soft, almost sounding sympathetic. She turns to look at them, standing idly on the wall. “You had no right—“
"Save it," I leer through my taut jaw, keeping my eyes averted. “And get the fuck away from me.”
Amirah steps a tad away from the bed I’m sitting on, fidgeting with her fingers like she did earlier. “Please let us make this right,” she says so quietly that I almost don’t hear her. “My mother loves my dad so much, and she wasn’t thinking right and—“
“Save it.” If I clench my jaw any tighter, it’s going to fall off. If she says another sorry, I’m going to get a hold of her pretty little neck again.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” I barely hear her words again, her chin tucked into her chest. That finger-itching reddish-brown hair of hers draping around the sides of her face.
“So the added sex was a bonus?" I pull my focus back to her as she begins to back further away from me, the truth, but I tightly clamp my thighs around one of her legs to keep her near me.
My hands are still cuffed in front of me, but they ache—no, they plead to wrap around her throat while the other goes between her thighs. I’ve killed people for less than what she’s done.
And I’ve never wanted something more in my entire life than this moment with her and I alone.
"What about you, Rus? You sorry?"
"Of course I am,” she says all but too quickly. Her frown makes her lips pout out, and I’d give anything to sink my front teeth down on one until she bleeds and screams. I want to hear her beg for me to stop. To listen to that sweet voice of hers feel hopeless because I’m too strong, and she’s too fucking weak to fight me off.
"I didn't know,” she whispers softly, meeting my eyes then. Damn, if this was any other time, I’d fall right into those beautiful greens. “I thought you were someone my sisters brought home."
One of my brows shoots up. “Regular little slut, aren’t you?”
I do not slut-shame on a regular but, my fucking God, I’m so pissed off I can barely stand it. Not only because she’s absolutely stunning and a waste of space, but because I’m attracted to her. Whatever non-approved FDA bullshit I’ve been pumped with, it’s burned some brain cells.
Amirah’s eyes widen before they go mid-glare in the middle of her sentence. “I didn’t want—you don’t know anything about me.”
And there it is.
One little word and the entitled bitch comes out because how dare I call her ass out on anything.
“I know enough,” I counter back. “I know that you rode my dick when I told you we didn’t have to do this.”
“And you didn’t say the word no.” I’m up on my feet and bumping into her body before I even contemplate what the hell I’m doing.
She’s right. I didn’t fucking say no.
I only mentioned that I wanted to be released from these handcuffs still bound around my wrists.
That it was my right to walk out of this house.
That it’d be smart to let me go.
How many times did I need to say to the word go, release, and hint that I didn’t want to fuck the bitch. She acted like she didn’t want to screw me either until her sisters taunted her on like she was a college boy at a frat party.
Peer pressure, it’s a bitch. But we’re both grown-ass adults, and society would consider me more of the monster if the tables were turned.
The men move closer to Amirah, and she must sense them because she glances over her shoulder and holds a hand out. “Stay out of this and get out.”
“But, Miss,” the younger one says, trying to grow a beard but failing horribly at it. “We were ordered—“
“I don’t care,” she snaps. “Out…now.” They both hesitate before deciding she’s not going to let it go.
When they open the door, Amirah turns back to me to meet my full outrage of her and her fucking family.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Rus. We’re alone now.”
She lifts her chin, but I see the fear swimming around those mossy greens. If I kill her, who knows what they’ll do to me. The moral of the story is to get out of here alive, not dumped in a dumpster or in the middle of the woods.
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl through my teeth when she doesn’t play into my mind games. “Did you come in here to try for another round?”
“I’m not them. I don’t do things like that.” She stretches her jaw to keep from losing her shit before her cheeks turn crimson. “I’m sorry for what I did. I never would’ve done that to you purposely if I would’ve—“
“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry again.” She flinches at my anger, but the safety of being inside her home must make her not tremble as much as she did the last time she and I were together. Or maybe it’s the men outside this room.
"It’s true, though,” she counters, her voice soft and low, hitting the few days ago me with believing her.
But the now-me, I’m ready to start severing body parts and slicing into flesh.
“And what am I supposed to do with that?”
She opens her mouth, closes it, opens it again, then says, “I dunno. Accept my apology, I guess.”
I snort haughtily through my nose. Typical rich bitch thing to say. “Right. Like how I took it last night.” I move back because if I don’t, I’m going to do something I’ll regret and reap the harsh consequences.
Sitting back on the bed, I concentrate on my breathing and the more important things I need to do than listen to her bullshit.
“We’re willing to offer you half a million dollars for your trouble,” she issues out then. “If you’ll—“
“Willing?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “How generous of you. How about I shove it up your ass when you hand it to me?”
“Rhett—“
“Mills,” I growl out. “I want you to call me by my name and get used to it because when I come back for seconds, you’re gonna know what I go by.”
The blush that just debuted on her face disappears when all the color flushes from her features.
I want her scared.
I want her so terrified of me that she can’t sleep at night.
“Listen, I know you’ll never forgive me,” she says. “I’d never forgive someone for doing something like that to me either. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling or....please take it. It’s the least we can do.”
“I got one better for you, Rus.” Her features soften as she patiently waits for me to continue. I see the hope fill her eyes, and I’m only going to stomp it out. “How about I return the favor one day that you so kindly bestowed on me. Except, I don’t want you on top. I want you writhing and screaming when my cock is so deep in you that it feels like I’m splitting you in half.”
“You...want to sleep with me?” Her face twists in confusion. “After—”
I slowly shake my head at her nativity. “No. I want to fuck your ass and mouth. I already had your pussy, and I hated it.”
She jerks away from me and glowers. Those green eyes burrowing into me with hatred and bitterness glimmering deep within them. Now she holds on to an ounce of what currently resides inside me.
I will never be able to look at the boys in B723 and tell them everything that happened. I don’t dream of threesomes and foursomes. Of screwing random chicks who are kinky and fucking crazy.
Yes, I’ve had one-night stands once in a while, but it’s not life. It’s not what I hunt for. It’s not what I bring home to my mom or grandma.
Shit, I don’t even want to be touched by a female right now out of disgust for myself and this bullshit the woman in front of me with her sisters pulled.
“The half of mill will be in a suitcase for you to take,” she declares within a reasonable amount of space between us. “You’ll never hear from us again.”
“Wish I could say the same, Rus.”
Her face pinches together. “Is that a threat?”
“Promise.”
“Stop.” She slices an arm through the arm as if it’s going to sever every sinister idea coursing through my head. “I know this sucks. Can I donate money to a charity for you or buy you a car?”
A somber chuckle rumbles from my chest. It’s all about what you can silence with the things you were given. This girl will never get on my level, and I don’t ever want to get on hers.
“Alright, rich girl,” I say leisurely. “I’ll take the money.”
And you when I get my head on straight.
“Thank you.” Amirah releases what sounds like a held exhale. “Again, I am so sorry for everything. About what I did to you...”
“Sure.” I meet her face with an emotionless one.
She nods, satisfied with my one-word response, and begins to walk backward out of the room, looking relieved as all hell. “I wish—good luck, Mr. Mills, with everything.”
I salute her with two fingers as she opens the door and briskly closes it behind her, more than likely relieved that I bought into her bullshit.
And that’s all it is—unadulterated bullshit.
“I have a surprise for you,” Odette’s voice sing-songs before light smears across the cement floor of the basement. Her figure, now a bright high beam of hot pink that actually makes my eyes squint for a second, strides towards me while I’ve been sitting in the dark for what feels to be hours for my fate.
Taking in my surroundings, there are large paintings, furniture covered with white sheets, old paint cans, and some cardboard boxes. The shit that no one wants to see when your home is a model of the perfect, rich lie of a family who lives upstairs.
