Sick Bastard, page 24
“I’d hardly call it a dungeon. It’s four thousand square feet of lavishly designed prime New York real estate.” Such dramatics.
“You’ve lost your goddamn mind. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She throws the chocolate from the cup on me, covering my shirt. “What the fuck, London? You’re the one who’s lost their goddamn mind.”
“Yes!” She screams, pointing a flour covered finger at me. “You’ve made me lose it. You drive me fucking crazy. Why did you lock me in here?”
“You were fucking sleeping! Were you planning on leaving in the middle of the goddamn night?” She was. The guilt flashes across her face immediately, before she can stop it. “Exactly. That’s why I locked you in here, so get the fuck over it.”
If she only knew about the true danger out there, a locked door wouldn’t cause her such grief. Lurking behind every corner and hiding behind every closed door there’s someone waiting―someone bigger and badder than me. To London I’m the worst bad guy she’s ever met. God, if that were only true. I’m the lesser of two evils. I lock her behind closed doors because I’m fucking scared for her. I’ll take her anger if it keeps her ass safe.
She goes on, throwing shit around the kitchen and banging bowls on the counter with vigor. She’s really going to town tonight. “Fottuto stronzo!” Now I’m a fucking asshole. I really do enjoy when she yells shit in Italian, but it’s always when she’s pissed off. Curse or not, it’s a fucking turn on.
If any other woman pulled this shit she’d be out on her ass. Actually, no other woman would ever be here in the first place doing any of this shit. “London?”
“What, ya fucker?”
“Shut up, baby.”
Seventeen
Mr. Remorseful
London
Standing in the middle of Dante’s kitchen, my chest heaves and my anger flares. I let my eyes wander the room, looking for something sharp and pointy. Where’d that knife go?
He locked me in his apartment. He literally locked me in. Who the fuck does that? I shouldn’t be surprised, but really? I wonder what personality decided it was a good idea to lock me up because that’s the one I’d like to stab first.
I woke up to a cold, empty bed, a bed that Dante was in when I feel asleep, but I woke up and the only thing I was tangled in was the sheet. I got up and searched his giant apartment and found… wait for it… no Dante. So I called him, but no answer. I texted him, and got none in return, so I waited. I waited an hour before I decided I was going home. I threw on my clothes and went for the door and found that the motherfucker was LOCKED. I tried the door again, hoping there had been an error, but no, it was still locked. That’s when my mood really went to shit.
I beat on the door, kicked it, yelled at it, and beat on it some more. Someone answered me, which should’ve been just as disturbing as the locked door, but oddly enough, it gave me hope. Maybe I could get out of here.
“Miss London?”
“Let me out.” I tried to sound pleasant, really I did, but it came out rude and demanding.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have orders to keep you here.” That’s when I really lost my shit.
“I’m going to kill the both of you!” I told the voice on the other side of the door. He’s lucky the door and a wall were between us.
I spent another hour stomping around Dante’s apartment, looking for sharp and pointy things to kill him with. That didn’t last long because I got bored. I dug through his shit like again, hoping my chances would be better than the last time, but I found nothing but more locked doors, so I tried to pick them. It didn’t work in my favor because I was still sequestered to the bedroom, living room, and kitchen. Finally I showered and tried to relax, but that didn’t help either.
I succumbed to baking at one in the fucking morning. I tore through his well-stocked kitchen for all the things I needed. As I stacked all the baking stuff on his counter, I decided I was going to annihilate his kitchen. Fuck him and his pristine kitchen. I’m making the biggest mess humanly possible, hoping it will piss him off.
I baked because it’s what I do when I’m having a bad day, and I was classifying this to a bad night.
Two-dozen triple chocolate cupcakes with whipped peanut butter frosting, two loaves of French bread, and a German chocolate cake later, I was finishing up my frosting for my cake when the sick fucking psycho showed up.
“Why would you lock me in your goddamn apartment?” Taking a step toward me, I take a step back.
“Don’t do that, London. You know I’d never hurt you.”
“Does emotional hurt not count?”
Running lips across my jaw and down my neck, I can feel him smile against my skin. “I wasn’t trying to keep you in as much as I was trying to keep the bad out.” My head lulls to the side, giving him access to my neck.
“What bad?”
“The world is what’s bad, London. I’m trying to keep you safe from the world, and the bad people in it.” His words make no sense, but I understand his lips. I understand his intentions.
“Did you make me cupcakes, cara?” No I didn’t make him cupcakes. I made myself cupcakes, but with those lips on my naked skin, I’ve lost my mind, along with my anger.
Dipping a thumb into the chocolate I threw on his shirt, he sweeps it across my bottom lip and runs his tongue slowly across, then sucks it into his mouth. I’m so fucking wet I’m damn near uncomfortable. Biting down, he forces a hiss of pain from me.
“My own little London cupcake,” he whispers roughly against my lips, licking the chocolate away. He starts to kiss a path down my jaw and to my chest before the ringing of his phone cuts into the thick sexual tension. My body sags into his from relief and irritation.
Ripping it out of his pocket, he doesn’t stop his assault on my skin. Without even glancing at the phone, he smashes it on top of the counter. Fisted in his huge hand, he slams it against the counter over and over until the ringing stops. “No one’s gonna take time with you away from me.” He says against my skin.
“O-okay.”
He gets on his knees in front of me and dips his tongue into my belly button, making me moan. Working his way down, he reaches the black lace and I about die of anticipation. Running a finger under the waist of my panties, “This pussy wet and wanting me?” He breathes against the inside of my thigh. I nod stupidly, my voice stuck in my throat.
“I asked you a fucking question, London.” His hand lands on my thigh with a slap. “Yes.” I yell. He’s never done that before, but fuck, it’s hot.
“I know you are, baby.”
He lifts me up on the counter and forces my legs apart so my feet can have a place to rest. His thick fingers push aside my panties and his mouth devours me, thrusting his tongue into my pussy. I feel his tongue moving around inside of me and I immediately explode all over his tongue as he starts to suck and lick fast and hard. “Fuck!” My fingers clutch tightly around the high cabinet handles, not giving a fuck if I pull the cabinets off the goddamn walls.
He shoves my legs open as wide as they’ll go, trying to get more access to where I need him. It’s such a fucking turn-on, watching this man in his expensive designer suit on his knees, fucking me with his mouth and tongue, and watching getting to watch him as he does it. This only makes me come again, shoving my pussy harder into his face. I feel the cum as flows out of me and into his mouth. He makes it his business to lick me everywhere, not wasting a drop.
“I need to take you to the bed where you can ride my tongue like you ride my dick. I’m not even close to being done tasting you, baby.”
~~~~~~
“Just wait in the car. It’ll take me three minutes.” I hold up three fingers, hoping that will drive it home. I’m one foot in the car and one foot on the sidewalk when he starts in.
“I’ll send Branson in for it.”
“Why have Branson unbuckle and go in when I’m halfway out of the car already? I’m going up and I’ll be right back. Calm down.” I throw over my shoulder as I try to rush away before he says anything else.
Pressing the button to my floor, I lean back against the glass wall of the elevator and wait. Today is the day I finally, after what’s now been close to six long years, graduate for the last time. Although this isn’t my first graduation, it is my last, and as much as I didn’t want to attend, I’m going because of Mr. Bossy. I would’ve been happy with a diploma delivered via mail, but Dante pushed and I conceded like always.
Today is graduation day, but if I don’t stop forgetting shit, I’ll never make it on time. This time it’s that ridiculously traditional hat that screams “graduate” that I forgot. God forbid I don’t have the most important accessory.
I make a mad dash into the apartment. I toss around the mess of clothes I left on the bed until I find the buried treasure. Stuffing it under my arm for safekeeping, I make the mad dash back to the elevator, waiting those excruciating fifteen seconds as the elevator makes its decent down into the lobby. I hope they’re serving drinks at the after party, I think as the elevator doors open.
The car isn’t more than fifty feet away, idling at the curb when I push through the front doors, but in a bout of bad luck, a leather hand creeps around my mouth with force while an arm wraps around my middle, leaving my feet dangling a few inches from the pavement. I can see the car mere feet away, but I’m panicked and I lose all control.
That fight or flight instinct takes over and I struggle against the person holding me. Things blur and everything slows to a crawl while I wiggle and jerk around in his grip, but nothing I do helps. I can hear my blood pumping violently in my ears and feel the painful uneven beats of my heart against my chest. I’m pulling at the hand, struggling to breathe. The panic is overwhelming and not being able to breathe is making the panic even worse.
A black SUV jumps the curb, causing people to scream and scatter. I’m still trying to fight, but I can’t scream and my body’s giving out. Tears stream down my face because I should’ve known that it would only be a matter of time before my father and Perry stopped talking and started doing. I was stupid to think they’d give up on me, especially now that I’m so close to taking over the business they so desperately want, but now it seems they have help. They’re going to fucking use me for ransom or kill me.
The back door of the SUV flings open and I see nothing inside except an uncertain future. The moment he gets me inside, I’ll be left to the mercy of the devil, and I know in my heart it won’t end well for me. I’m not going down without a fight, though. I won’t make this easy.
Now that I’m trying to think instead of freak out, I stop fighting as the man drags me closer to the open door. I can feel him tiring so I go completely limp, letting him drag my dead weight along the sidewalk. But when he hefts me closer to the door, I get my balance quickly, raise my arms above and behind me and begin clawing at his face. He lets go of me, but not before shoving me with a solid push towards the door. It’s a shove that doesn’t quite get me there, but it does get me close enough to bash my head into the metal bumper, and then to the sidewalk.
It happened so fast, I didn’t get my hands up in time to catch myself. My fucking head hurts and I’m dizzy, but I’m able to push myself up from the ground. With my mouth finally free, I do the only thing I can think to do. “Dante!” I scream at the top of my lungs, but something hard meets the side of my head and I go back down, hard.
I hear gun shots, screeching tires, and men shouting. Now my eyes are unfocused and there’s a burning pain on the right side of my face. I open my eyes and I can’t see a fucking thing and my ears are ringing. There’s so much pain radiating behind my jaw, down into my neck. I send out a small prayer and get some relief when I finally black out.
~~~~~~
Before I crack an eye open, I can feel the pressure in my skull, along with the pain in my eye and face. My first instinct is to rub my eyes, but even half asleep I know better. This is like a hangover, only ten times worse.
I give myself a moment to figure out where I’m hurt. Everything besides my head, eye, and face feel normal, but my face feels like it met a cheese grater. I wiggle my fingers and toes, roll my shoulders and move my legs. Everything feels normal.
Lying silently for a few moments after taking inventory of my injuries, I hear voices, and one is very distinct. Slipping from the bed, I take a moment to let myself adjust. The side of my cheek throbs to the beat of my heart and I have a dull headache, but otherwise, I feel okay. I’ll survive, but I missed graduation. I would’ve rather been there than go through all of this.
Walking down the hall, the voices grow louder. I make it to the door and see Dante’s hands planted in the center of his desk with Josh on one side of him and Cam on the other.
“This will never happen again. Ever. It will never fucking happen again.” Dante’s handsome face is contorted in rage. I’ve never seen him this angry. His eyes are bloodshot and seems crazy. This man looks worn out and furious.
“I-I’m sorry,” A voice says. Taking a step closer to the door, I can see Pete standing on the other side of it. His face is filled with terror, and he’s shaking uncontrollably.
“You’re sorry?” Dante spits. “I’m sorry that I didn’t just fucking shoot you on the goddamn sidewalk with the other piece of shit. Was it her fault you weren’t paying attention? Your job was to look for her to come out of the building and get into the car, that was it.” Dante screams the last word and then goes quiet. Holy shit.
For a single moment everything is silent. I can hear my heart in my ears again. My hands are shaking and clutched in front of me, just like Pete’s. Shifting nervously, I swallow the lump in my throat. “Was it her FAULT?” he roars. In the blink of an eye, he’s around his desk with a gun in his hand, the barrel inches from Pete’s terrified face. “WAS IT?” My stomach drops.
I watch Dante’s finger on the trigger flex a fraction and I instantly feel sick. “What are you doing, Dante? What the fuck are you doing!” I scream.
Dante
I lost it. My temper, my anger, all in a blind rage. It all just took over. I almost killed someone for what I let happen. I slipped, and London almost paid for it dearly. Her green eyes are red and wet with unshed tears. She’s fucking terrified of me.
“Come on.” I urge her towards the bedroom and away from the mess in my office. The last thing I need is my inquisitive little London poking around in there.
“Were you going to shoot him?” Her voice trembles as the words leave her lips. Yes.
“No, London, I was just upset. It’s a scare tactic.” I was gonna put one between his eyes. Maybe not right at that exact moment, but it’s inevitable. I have no tolerance for stupidity and he’s full of it. He had one simple job. All he had to do was watch her go into the building and come out, making sure no one was following her. I may have fucked up by trusting him while I was making phone calls, but it was his job to follow those very simple orders. He dropped the ball and she was almost taken from me.
“But you had a gun at his head. Why?” I don’t answer her. Any other time her question would bother me, but right now, I just need her cooperation and trust.
“Get in bed, beautiful girl. Like I said, it’s a scare tactic that works.” With not so much as a look back, she crawls in, burrows herself in the comforter and gets comfortable.
Turning to leave, I take a step towards the door, “Dante?”
“Yes?”
“Please don’t kill Pete. I will beg you if I have to, but please don’t kill Pete. None of this was his fault.” It was his job to watch. He knew something was coming because that’s what he does, he gets information. We’ve had eyes on her father and his people, and Pete turned his back for a minute, letting this happen. He missed it and we could’ve been too late to get to her. “It wasn’t his fault, Dante, and you know it. It’s not his job to keep me safe, nor is it yours. This is my father’s fault, and that’s on me, not Pete.”
“Okay.” I give in. I’d tell her anything to keep that sadness out of her tone and those tears out of her eyes.
“Have you seen or heard from Matt?” She asks.
“I called him for you and he’ll be over in the morning.” She unfolds herself from the covers and reaches out to me. I go to her and sit beside her on the bed where she wraps her legs around me and sits in my lap. I’m completely shocked when she wraps her arms around my neck, giving me something that I have desperately needed from her but didn’t realize it until this very moment. She hugs me and I hug her back just as tightly. The thought of losing her today scares the fuck out of me, but she’s here in my arms, needing me to comfort her as much as I need it from her. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“My head and face are sore, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything, Dante, especially for saving my ass. You ask if I need anything? Yes, I do. I only need you.”
Fuck, those words are music to my ears. I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna be right here.
~~~~~~
I’m plotting retaliations, calculating expiration dates, and culminating plans, but all I can truly focus on is London. Her fucking scream is still echoing in my head.
I knew I shouldn’t have let her out of that car alone. I knew better. Lost in the fire in those defiant green eyes, I let her go by herself, throwing her out to the sharks. The one goddamn time I don’t follow her and this mess is made.
I fucking told her. She may not understand the reasons behind my decisions, but maybe she’ll see them now. Nothing I do happens without a great deal of thought and consideration, but I let that go for her. Big fucking mistake on my part.
Sitting in my car, answering emails and taking calls, it happened so fast. Tires squealing, people yelling, and her desperate scream tore through the car.
It was surreal. I fought with the car door trying desperately to get out. Standing on the sidewalk, I fumbled with my gun while my eyes were trained on the man with his hands on her. I never fumble. I never hesitate. It’s the one goddamn thing I know. I was trying to get to my gun to kill the son-of-a-bitch who was pushing her towards a van.
