Catching Sin, page 11
What if I don’t have a job, any job, when this all comes crashing down on me?
Option one: I go directly to Maddox and tell him the score. He’ll fire me, or use me to get back at Conti, and Conti will pull Justin’s school money, then Justin will end up in foster care who the hell knows where.
Option two: I go directly to Jake Turner—a man I’ve never met—and tell him what Conti is planning. I’m betting the outcome is the same as option one.
Option three: I play along with Conti. I take pictures, maybe record an inconsequential meeting or two, and find out what I can without extending myself in any way; without stealing confidential documents or giving him intel. I make Maddox hate me, because I don’t think I can make him like me—not after discovering the real reason I’m working there.
For that reason alone, I shouldn’t care about being on Team Conti. After all, helping him is a means to an end. It’s security for Justin’s future. Probably for mine, too, if I allow it. So why not help him? What loyalty and honesty do I owe Maddox? None. He’s certainly not been particularly forthcoming with me. He’s a black hole fashioned to be the sun.
Option four: I go all in. I use everything I have to bend Maddox to my will and help Conti get everything he wants on Turner Hotels.
Except every time I consider that option, I want to throw up. Doing so makes me no better than Anthony Conti. It makes me a thief. A pirate. A despicable human being. I promised myself long ago that no matter the concessions I make in my life—stripping, chronically allowing Conti to have the upper hand—I would not do something that took away my ability to face myself in the mirror. I can justify almost anything. Justin is worth it. But Conti does not deserve whatever it is he’s after.
I think I officially just found my limit.
So, I’m back to square one. Or maybe option one. I don’t know anymore. I want to feel Maddox out some more. I don’t like him any more than I like Conti at this point. I have no idea what that debt he bought into was, but I’m assuming it was something pretty awful. You don’t go to Conti unless it is.
I arrive at the office at exactly eight thirty-five. Maddox isn’t here yet and the office floor is still fairly quiet, except for Mallory. That woman strikes me as the type who stays late, comes in early, and knows everything. Finding my way to the kitchen in the back of the office, I make myself a cup of coffee, then I play around with the espresso machine, deciding I could use a few shots of that in my coffee.
The day I found my mother dead in our apartment, a needle sticking out of the crook of her elbow and a rubber band constricting the skin above it, was the day Conti entered our lives. He may have been there before, but I have no memory of that. I was sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at my mother in horror, hating her for ruining our lives again. I was terrified. I knew what her death meant for me, for Justin. I was sixteen, he was twelve, and part of me wondered if the moment I called the police would be the last time I ever saw my brother.
I was exhausted. Malnourished. Neglected. Years of scraping by so we could have a roof over our heads and a small amount of food in our bellies had taxed me to my limit. Anything my mother ever had went into her arm. Or her nose. Or her mouth. Her pimps were abusive, her dealers a little too interested in me. And it occurred to me that things were about to get worse for us.
I was crying, wallowing in a pit of self-pity when Anthony Conti walked in like he owned the place. I didn’t know who he was, but he introduced himself to me with a smile and promises of a better situation for me and my brother. I took his hand when he offered it and he pulled me up off that bathroom floor. We left that apartment together.
I never went back, and I never called the police to report my mother’s death.
Conti told me he had taken care of everything and I believed him.
Justin and I were taken to a new apartment, given food and clothes. A driver took us to school for exactly three weeks. The happiest three weeks of my life. Then came the day that Anthony Conti explained to us that Justin would be going to a private boarding school across the country.
“I don’t want to go,” Justin had said, his arms wrapped around his chest. My insides had split open as I’d stared helplessly up at Anthony Conti’s stern face. There was no argument to be had. It was done.
But still, I had to try. “Does he have to go? We’ll be so good. I promise. We won’t bother anyone. I’ll get a job. I’ll help pay for anything he needs. Please just let him stay.”
Anthony’s eyes wandered to mine and he smiled at me, cupping my jaw in his large hand. “This is the best opportunity for your brother. Don’t you want that for him?”
“Of course I do,” I replied automatically. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. All I’ve ever done was take care of Justin and make sure he had everything he’s ever needed. But what about me? Justin goes, and I stay, and what happens to me then? My throat closed in on me, my skin crackled as I fought back my tears. We were to be separated. I couldn’t lose Justin. He’s all I have.
“Please,” Justin cried. “Isabel has to come with me.” He covered his face with his hands as he began to shake from his sobs. I wrapped my arms around his narrow shoulders. He was still a few inches shorter than me, enough for my chin to rest on his head when his hands met my back. A perfect fit.
“It’ll be okay,” I promised, hoping I wasn’t lying to him. Hoping he didn’t grow to hate me or believe I was pushing him away. “You get to get away from here. You’re going to go to this amazing school. Meet new kids. It’ll be awesome.”
“But you won’t be there,” he sniffled into my shirt, clinging to me like I was his talisman.
“We’ll talk all the time. I promise you. We’ll get cell phones and call and text whenever we can. You’re my brother and I love you. That will never change.” Even though I’m terrified I’ll lose him. He’s all I have.
“I love you, too. I’m scared, Is.”
His words had broken me. I had been scared, too. Of so many things. Turned out, I was to stay behind and work evenings in the club, helping the girls get ready for their performances. I was to stay close to the man who called himself my savior.
Justin cried and clung to me, begging Conti to let us stay together. I sat there, holding in my sobs as I built it up for him and told him how wonderful his life would be at the boarding school. I was devastated at the prospect of losing the only person in the world I had. The only person I cared about. But I was old enough to recognize the possibilities the move would offer Justin, the sweet boy who would always make sure I ate before him, so I wouldn’t go without. The boy who’d stepped in front of my mother’s pimp when he tried to hit me, and took the blow for himself.
I wasn’t Conti’s daughter and I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was some odd doll he claimed to love in private but barely existed to him in public. His punishments were brutal. His possession absolute. My freedom non-existent. One thing was made abundantly clear to me. I was always under his watchful eye. Starshine.
If I followed along with his every request without argument or hesitation, then Justin would have a shot at a real life. We weren’t given the option; it’s just how things went.
And as the years progressed and I grew older and a little more streetwise, I came to understand just what sort of monster he really is. Beyond what he did to me. I saw more than I bargained for, heard more than he ever suspected. And learned that he was the man who had killed my mother. Conti had ensured my mother received the lethal dose of whatever shit she was pumping into her veins. I wasn’t sure if she had wronged him, owed him money, or if there was another reason he felt the need to take her life and disrupt ours in the process.
Whatever it was, I didn’t hate him for killing my mother—as far as I’m concerned, she was just as evil as Conti. I hated him for taking away my choices. For eliminating my opportunities. I was not allowed to attend college. I was not allowed to date. I was not allowed to have friends.
He was my curse. My savior. My darkest nightmare.
I only learned how to dance because it was a choice I could make. I went up on that stage as an act of rebellion—seeking a freedom I knew I’d never truly obtain. It was a jab at his controlling ways. A secret I loved owning.
My days were empty and lonely, spent killing time because I couldn’t kill myself. By day, I was at the library, surfing the internet or lost in books that allowed me to live vicariously through their pages. My nights were spent in a strip club surrounded by men who viewed and treated me like a whore. But where I deteriorated, Justin thrived. He was at the top of his class, had friends, and excelled at sports.
That knowledge made my life tolerable. Justifiable.
Even though I knew there was a catch hidden in the promise, in taking the job at Turner Hotels, I overlooked it. I believed Maddox’s promise to me in the club that night. I let him buy me clothes. I let him explain the responsibilities of my position. I let myself grow more than a little infatuated with him.
It’s been a long time since that day in the bathroom when Anthony Conti held my face in his hands and captured my tears, but now I know that I will never be free of him. It will never really be over with him. I’m his prisoner. His slave. He can bend me to his will, not the other way around. But if I can get through this somehow, figure out the perfect plan . . .
“I was starting to wonder about you.”
I don’t flinch. My heart doesn’t even skip a beat. Don’t give up, Isabel. Fight through this and beat them all. I will. Or I’ll die trying.
I have no idea how long I’ve been standing here, staring sightlessly at the espresso machine, but Maddox looks horribly uncomfortable as he tries for casual. Feigning like he’s just stumbled upon me and wasn’t watching me. He was. He’s like Conti in that manner.
He’s leaning against the wall as he works his phone with both thumbs, his posture rigid. I smile at that. I like him uncomfortable. If he were at ease, then he’d be taking this situation lightly.
“What were you wondering about?”
A stupid school-girl laugh is dying to escape from the new position I find myself in and I’m most assuredly not referring to my job here. I liked our power dynamic so much better when I was straddling his thighs and dry fucking his hard cock through his jeans. I wonder how many times Conti watched that video.
I smile like a demon at that thought.
“How long you were going to stand and stare at the coffee maker like it was offering you anthrax.”
Jokes. This man is all about them here. But right now with me, he’s oh-so-serious as he moves like a predator in my direction. I swallow hard, a nervous bubble of energy rising from within me. Which way should I go, Maddox? You guide me. Last week we were cat and mouse, toeing that delicious line between flirty and professional. I loved it. I ate it up and couldn’t wait for seconds.
But now?
Now, I don’t dare glance in his direction, but that doesn’t mean I’m not watching him. I’m full of questions for this man. Why of all the men in the world did it have to be him? Is this town really that small? Maddox folds his huge arms over his even larger chest. I feel the weight of his heated stare on me, on my dress Paula picked out. I didn’t argue with her about it even though it edges between work and stripper.
Black. Mid-thigh. Tight. High neck—which is what makes me think I can get away with it at work—and long-sleeved. It has this crazy, gold zipper in the back that extends the length of the dress. Right now, I’d give anything to feel his immense fingers grasping the small clasp. To feel the cool rush of air hit my skin as he slowly unzips it, staring into my eyes as he watches me react to his touch. Will I blush the first time I let a man undress me? The first time I feel hands touch my skin in an intimate manner?
I want to be defiant. I want to raise my chin and stare back, but this man and his perfect face make that nearly impossible. He makes my insides quake and my thighs clench, my heart race and my panties damp . . . and he’s not even touching me. I hate that I still react to him this way even after everything Conti told me. He won’t touch you because I forbade him.
“Why do you only wear black?”
Interesting start to this game. I could tell him the truth—that it started out as a way to blend in when I was young, but then it grew into a cost-saving mechanism because if everything was black, it all matched. Eventually, black became a badge of honor and a fuck you. “I like the way it looks on me.” That’s not entirely untrue.
His gaze roves over me in a way that lets me know he likes the way it looks on me, too. Maddox steps in closer, a small smirk tugging at his lips. He bends, caging me in like a trapped animal. His eyes lock on mine just as someone clears their throat.
“Hey,” an unfamiliar male voice says and Maddox slowly—like he has zero fucks to give and does not care that he was just caught cornering his new assistant—steps back from me. “Good morning, Maddox. I really appreciated your help with setting up the new banner on the website.”
Maddox waves the guy off, his eyes still on mine like our interloper isn’t even in the room. His eyes say we’re not finished. I try to convey with mine that we can never start.
“I know you.” Pause. “Do you remember me?” the voice continues, undeterred. For the first time, it occurs to me that he’s speaking to me. I turn in his direction and find a young guy with blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a charming smile that is most definitely trained on me. He steps forward, blatantly ignoring Maddox. “We met at Infinity a couple of weeks ago. I was there with a bunch of guys for my friend’s birthday. You were our waitress.”
“How original,” Maddox declares with a bored tone. “Asking a waitress if she remembers you.”
Only, I do remember him. He came in the night before I was fired. Him and his friends paid for the large champagne room, and he threw around money like the world was ending tomorrow. He was the most polite and sober of the crew. He also left me a phenomenal tip. Waitresses don’t forget those.
“You’re Morgan, right?” See, I even remember his name. Go me.
His face lights up like a rich kid on Christmas morning. “Yes,” he exclaims, maybe a touch surprised. “You do remember. I know your name in the club, but I doubt that’s your real name.” He smiles wider, chuckling in a good-natured way.
I think I like this guy. I mean, how adorable is he?
I shake my head, trying to hide my amusement. Maddox is giving Morgan a dangerous glare. The type of glare that promises death and dismemberment should he continue to speak to me. Maybe Conti was right. Maybe Maddox doesn’t have to touch me to be affected.
“I’m Isabel.”
Morgan reaches out and shakes my hand. His eyes have not strayed from my face once. I don’t know if he’s gay or a gentleman or just not interested, but typically after a man meets you in a strip club, they think you’re fair game on the easy scale. Not this one. At least, not yet.
“Isabel. Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
Maddox makes some kind of sarcastic scoffing sound, moving just a touch closer in my direction. “Sure, you give him your name just like that,” he murmurs under his breath so only I can hear. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love that Maddox is jealous. It’s making my miserable day just a touch bright and shiny. I still might not have a clue what I’m going to do about Conti and the whole spying thing, but Maddox is the definition of dirty fun, and I want to roll around in him until I’m covered in his filth.
“Do you work here now or are you just . . . visiting?” Morgan glances over at Maddox, who is still giving him the death stare. “I haven’t seen you around here before, but I was traveling all last week.”
“I work here now. I just started last week.”
“Yep. She’s my assistant. And we have to be going.” Maddox slips his hand to my lower back, a total possessive move if you ask me, and guides me away with a strong push.
“Nice seeing you again, Morgan,” I call over my shoulder, giving him a flirty wave and a smile because I can, and I know it will drive Maddox wild.
“You, too,” Morgan replies. “And I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot more of you now that you’re working here.”
“Over my fucking dead body,” Maddox grumbles, still leading me away from Morgan, but instead of directing me to my office, we’re moving toward the elevator. “Stay away from that guy. He’s bad news.”
“Says the pot about the kettle.”
“Without a doubt. Now, move your ass. I’m late and you’re coming with me.”
I’m smiling. Oh, Maddox, what naughty thing did you do to put me in your path?
And why do I like being there so much?
Thirteen
MADDOX
* * *
“Where are we going?” Isabel asks for the umpteenth time. We’re in the back seat of a town car. I have the partition down when what I really want to do is raise it up and plaster her body to the leather. I swear, this one will be the death of me.
I’ve gotten close. Right up in her face, and I didn’t kiss her full, red lips. I didn’t tear that miniscule, bullshit excuse for a dress from her gorgeous body. I haven’t devoured every inch of her perfect curves. Even when she looks at me as if she wants to know what it feels like to have my dick inside her body. I’ve passed the I-want-to-fuck-this-woman-and-didn’t test. And I’ve been feeling pretty damn proud of myself for it.
We’ve maintained our professional boundaries since that episode in the spa.
No touching. No flirting. No taking her clothes off and dancing for me—though that’s still at the top of my fantasy chart.
I wish I could say that now that she’s wearing professional clothing and is out of club makeup, she’s become ugly or unappealing. That now that we’re less adversarial and more professionally friendly, she’s become boring. She’s none of those things. It’s all just added layers I’m dying to peel back and explore.
