Sick Bastard, page 28
“My father felt entitled. He figured I was his child and what was mine was rightfully his. He only wants me for what he thinks he can get. So far he hasn’t been successful, but he’s getting better and more determined the older my grandfather gets. All of this mess is over a business my father has absolutely no right to. All this shit is because he’s a self-centered piece of shit. I hate that I have to live in this family drama where there should be none. My father can’t just take it. I sure as fuck don’t plan to hand it over, either. I’m not giving it up. Grandfather worked day and night, putting blood, sweat, and tears into this company and I’ll be damned if I willingly give it up to anyone, especially my greedy father.”
For the longest time Dante doesn’t say anything. The car is dark and the air is stale with the humid night air. “Say something,” I urge.
“Give it up.” he suggests like it’s the easiest solution in the world.
“No, I can’t … I won’t! It means so much to my grandfather and me.”
“It’s not that hard. Nothing is worth your life, London.”
“But it is. It’s my grandfather’s life, his legacy. It’s all I’ve ever known. It’s the reason I’ve worked so hard in school and sacrificed all these years to learn how to run it. He asked this of me, and I did it. I’ve worked so hard for it. I’ve made it my life for him because he’s done everything for me. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“You’re too young and stupid to know what you really want.” What the fuck? Did he just call me stupid? I fight the hatful comments working their way out of me. I’m too tired, and too stupid to do this.
“Just take me home. I’m tired of dealing with your fucked up personalities. You really make me sick.” Dante starts to drive and doesn’t speak to me again.
~~~~~~
Sitting on the plane, I decide I’m not letting his remark about me being stupid get to me. I know I’m not, so he can fuck off. Besides, I need to ask the question that’s eating me alive. “That man. He told me to ask you what you are? Why?” He doesn’t say anything. My question doesn’t even touch his unbreakable mask. “Why would he say that?”
“People say crazy shit when they’re going to die.” Lie. He said this before anything happened.
“I don’t think that’s why he said it.” Looking back down at his tablet, he shuts me out. “Dante?”
“What do you want me to say, London? He’s a fucking idiot working for your father. He’ll say whatever he has to so he can win you over.”
“Buy why that?” My anger is flaring. I’m not in the mood for his lies right now. I’m so deep in lies I can’t swim my way out. Standing up to move away from him, his arm snakes out and grabs onto me.
Pulling me into his lap he glares at me. “Believe in me. Believe the shit I tell you. His job was to get into your head and he did. Don’t ever fucking doubt me, London. No one cares about you like I do. No one will ever protect you like I do. Trust only me.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I know, but I wanna show you that I’m not always one. It’s time to fuck you, baby. Take your clothes off.” And that’s all I get. Fuck.
Twenty-One
Mr. Watchful
One Month Later …
London
Mr. Too Busy for London is testing my patience this evening. Business has kept him away and distracted. Matt and I agreed on dinner and drinks for part of the evening, but the rest of my night was supposed to be spent with him.
I got my dinner and drinks with Matt, but so far, no word from Dante. All week he’s been unattainable. Dante’s been in a mood and it happens to be a mood I’m not particularly fond of. And I swear to God, if I have to watch him slam his cell phone down one more time I’m gonna shove it up his ass. His mood has been rubbing off on me.
“I’ll be right over there,” I nod in the direction of the dance floor.
“You’ve got a death wish. Good luck, boo.” Matt laughs.
The light is dim as I wade through the smoke and bodies. Navigating the tables and chairs scattered about, my heels stick to the dingy parquet floor. The low deep base of a voiceless song croons from speakers hung from the corners of the room. Pushing past a group of couples, I find my target.
Couples cuddle in dimly lit corners in this small shit hole. Groups of men sit around yelling over card games, jeering and cheering at one another. Waitresses with subpar balancing skills pass out drinks on shaky heels with even shakier hands. A few scantily clad woman dance around a makeshift dance floor while men look on, drooling like dogs wanting a bone.
Looking over my shoulder at Matt, he shakes his head, laughing. He loves trouble so it’s a good thing he came here with me. Twisting my neck a little further, I catch Dante’s eyes. He’s watching like I knew he would be. He’s left me little choice. This was my last resort to ruffle his feathers and get his attention. I need something from him before I explode.
Surrounded by a group of men, they beg for his attention, but his attention is finally elsewhere. Smiling to myself, I turn back to my mission.
He’s five-ten, average height and looks, but my target merely serves a purpose. Invading his personal space, I push my way right up next to him, letting my tit brush his arm. A group of guys standing by him look at me like I’m a mystical unicorn and the girl hanging off of his shoulder doesn’t look like we’ll ever be friends with her severe pout. “Dance with me.” I tell him, ignoring his companions.
It’s not the dance, but the game I enjoy the most. Do I like the stranger’s hands rubbing up my thighs up to my hips? No. Do enjoy the scorching gaze of a sexy psycho currently eye fucking me from across the room. Hell yes. Dante’s eyes blaze with possessive heat. Shoulders tense, leaning forward in his chair, he stares at me. Happy with this, I grind my ass against the man’s ever growing hard-on. It’s unpleasant, but I have something to prove tonight.
Dancing to my own beat, I glide my hips from side to side. One second my guy’s there and the next I hear, “That was a lovely show, cara,” He says against my skin. He did quite well. He lasted five minutes, maybe a few more before he broke down and took over as my dance partner.
“Did you like it?”
“You fucking know I did, you little fucking tease.”
“Should I keep going then?”
“You’re the queen of idle threats, London.”
Pulling away, I leave Dante standing in the middle of the dance floor watching me walk away.
~~~~~~
It’s been dinners in, movies on the couch, cuddling in bed and gazing at the skyline. I go to bed with Dante, we shower together, and he works in his office while I lounge on the couch. I spend my days hanging around the pool, lunching and shopping with Matt, and I read. Grandfather will be back soon so I’m taking full advantage of the days I have left before I get to work.
We’ve fallen into perfectly domesticated compatibility. We spend most of our time together. Dante goes to work and I enjoy the last few weeks of vacation before I too start working. This new time together has been eye opening, challenging, and comfortable.
I was swiftly and immediately moved in the moment my feet touched American soil. It’s been thirty days. Some long, and some not long enough. We fight hard and dirty and we make up rough and heatedly. Our relationship is going how I assumed anyone’s would who’s dating someone like Dante; it’s going exactly how he deems it.
He may call the shots, but he lets me run the show. I can do no wrong. It’s amazing most of the time, but it’s also frustrating. No matter how much I fight or how hard I push, I can’t break that tough as nails resolve of his. Some days I just wanna break him, if only just a little, but Dante never seems to be anything but poised, calm, and collected on the outside.
It’s what’s on the inside that’s terrifying and thrilling. It’s the vindictive, cruel man in there lurking around. The ruthless man he masks with all his easy indifference that scares me. It’s the easy going and nice façade everyone sees and falls in love with that hides that psycho so well, but a disturbing part of me has fallen for that man too. That evil has swept me off of me feet, wrapped me up in love, and gives me everything I could ever need or want.
Everyday he wears a suit and everyday I think he looks even better in one. Today it’ll be all black. “You’re staring at me, London.” He says, shuffling through the mail.
“You do it too. Tit for tat.” I point out.
“I know, and when I do it it’s because I’m thinking of fucking you. Do you wanna fuck me?” He asks in a sexy tone.
“Maybe.”
“I’d love nothing more than to bend you over the kitchen table and give you a repeat of last night, but unfortunately, I have a meeting this morning. But make no mistake, when I get home from work, I want you naked, wet, and waiting.” No arguments here.
I help him straighten his tie, the tie he asked me to pick for him this morning. He screws with his watch and musses up his hair while he waits for Cam. He’s nervous and I don’t know why. “What’s wrong?”
Looking over his shoulder, he frowns, “Nothing.” He’s lying to me. Over time, I’ve learned to pick up on his tells. He twists that watch when he’s hiding truths. His eyes harden and his brow wrinkles when he’s spewing lies.
“Are you sure?” I ask, but it’s clear he’s not going to tell me anything.
“Yes.” Another lie. He’s not sure. Actually, he’s anything but sure.
Dante
Love is something I never sought out. I never ran from it, I just simply turned and walked casually away when presented with the idea of it. I’m wading through unchartered territory here, but now I’m about to drown in this mess I’ve created for us.
I’ve become so accustomed to having London in my life. Wherever she is, I’m never far behind. She belongs to me. Her heart belongs to me. She gives me whatever I ask of her and I gladly take it. I’m greedy where she’s concerned. Whether it’s her time, her attention, her love, or her body, she hands it over willingly and I’ve grown used to it. But there is that saying, ‘Too much of a good thing can kill you’. I’m starting to see the logic behind that statement because I have no doubt that London will be my downfall.
“Your tits,” I start to mutter when she turns towards me. She misses nothing.
“What about them?” Well they were bouncing around until she stopped stirring that shit. “You’re not wearing a bra, your shirt is white, and your stirring that shit like you hate it.”
“It’s not shit, it’s waffles, and I made you some.”
“I know, baby, and I’ll happily eat any shit you feed me.”
Watching her eat her beloved waffles, I wish I could say I regret it what I’m doing, but I don’t. I don’t regret a single fucking second with her.
Over these past three-and-a-half months, I’ve grown to need London in a way I’ve never needed anything before. She gives me purpose. She may not need me the way I need her, but she allows me to look after her. She lets me dote on her and coddle her the way I want to. London lets me have my way and somehow manages to keep me in check all with a smile on her perfect face. I feel whole when I’m with her and I’ll fight to keep that other half of me, which is her.
“Now you’re staring.” Over three months and she still complains about it. I feel like we have this conversation often.
“Get used to it,” I tell her like I do everyday. I’ve earned the privilege of staring.
“I am. I just like pointing it out.”
I spend a few extra minutes this morning committing her to memory. Her messy hair, wearing my t-shirt, and that sweet smile is burned into my subconscious. I carve the image of her perfect body onto my brain. I let myself revel in her beauty and her love for a second longer.
She’s everything I never knew I wanted until I had it. “You’re acting strange again. What’s up?”
She asks before she leans into me and smiles, “But I like you strange,” she whispers. Pushing up on her tippy toes, she gives me a long, lingering kiss. I say a prayer that it won’t be the last time I get to taste her. I beg like hell she’ll trust me enough to let me see this through and plead that she doesn’t give up on me. She has to know by now that everything I do I do for her, and only her.
Walking to the front door, I give her one final look standing in my kitchen, happy and content.
“You ready, Boss?” Cam asks as soon as the door closes behind me. Leaning against it, I nod and take a moment to pull my shit together. One year of careful planning and lots of money later, it all boils down to this.
Righting my tie and adjusting my sleeves, I compose myself and bury it all down deep in the black pit of my soul. This is what I live for. London may have me, but in my business, there’s no room for a heart. “Yes.”
“Are you sure? You look fuckin’ strung out.”
“Yes. I’ve worked for a whole year to get this together.”
Walking to the elevator, tiny pieces of my morality scream and beg to back out now. Just give up the fight and let it go, but I can’t. I have to follow through. It’s too late to grow a conscience now. My head, my logical, sensible side says this is what my family needs. It’s what we deserve. This is what I’ve worked towards since taking over my father’s position.
On the elevator ride down, I remind myself I’ve spent years getting to this point. I remind myself I don’t function on a normal level and this shit I’m feeling will pass. I remind myself she’ll love me no matter what I do.
I know I’m doing what’s right. I know I’ve made the best decision for myself, my family, and London. Once I’m settled in the car, I know I have to do it.
Love is doing something that you know deep in your gut that you’ll regret. Love is doing everything you promised, swore to God you’d never do. Love is breaking rules, bending ideals, and making changes. Love is taking a big fucking chance on something that’s not one hundred percent.
Twenty-Two
Mr. Tragic
London
“Is Mr. Man Candy treating you like a King?” I ask Matt. We’re sitting next to the window at one of our favorite little pizza places, listening to the loud street noise just on the other side of the sidewalk and enjoy lunch with my first favorite guy. I’ve missed this part of me.
Leaning on the table, his chin’s propped in his hand and he’s got that goofy smile. He’s in love.
“Oh yeah.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. It’s good to hear. Since “moving” into Dante’s, I haven’t seen Matt as much as I’d like to. We still get together at least twice a week, but going from every day, all day, it’s been an adjustment. He’s been staying at our apartment and I miss being there with him.
“How’s life with Mr. Bossy Boots?”
“Good, but …”
“Oh my God!” Matt squeals and almost gives the lady behind us a heart attack. He cuts me off as usual. “Guess who I ran into? Okay, you’ll never guess so I’ll just tell you. PAUL!”
“Like, crazy ex, poem writing Paul?”
“Oh yes, and we talked.”
I listen to Matt tell me all the things I’ve missed. We chat about drama and the daily gossip and we promise to spend more time together.
Walking me to the curb, Matt wraps an arm around me. “I miss your face, but I’m kinda glad you’re getting the D regularly. You’re less bitchy that way,” He says, kissing my forehead.
“I’m glad you finally stopped sleeping with every tanned, toned, and juiced man you come into contact with and settled on one. You’re less likely to get herpes that way,” I tell him back, kissing his cheek.
“Love you too, bitch!” Matt says, swatting my ass as I lean into the car.
“Love you too, slut bag. Call me tonight after your date.”
“Yeah, yeah, mother.”
~~~~~~
The elevator pings my arrival to the fourth floor. Looking at my reflection in the mirrored glass doors before I step out, I see my hair looks a bit messy, but I’ll accept a windblown look so I won’t have to worry.
Stepping off the elevator, I tuck my aviators into the neck of my cute white V-neck. I went for comfy casual this afternoon with my t-shirt and boyfriend jeans. I’m happy about my choice because if I’m going to be sitting for a long time, I’m glad it won’t be in an uncomfortable ass skirt.
Rounding the corner to the reception area, I get a bright smile and friendly wave. “London! How are you?” Jill, the receptionist beams at me from her desk.
“Hey, Jill, I’m good. How about you?”
“Good, good!” We chat for a few minutes about her kids and their extracurricular activities. We chat about the end of my studies and my new man.
“I should go in before I’m late. You know how he hates tardiness.”
“Yeah, he’s an old grump. Bye, Hun!”
I head down the long hall to the door on the end. I’ve walked this walk many times over many years. I’ve run through this hall countless times. I’ve played dolls in this hall. I’ve studied in this hall.
