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Exhaling the cigarette smoke and watching it disperse through the dark living room, my lips curl into a smile as Summer hesitantly moves towards me. I knew in that split second what she was thinking, the way her head dropped towards the open space, the wonder in her eyes when she could smell the cigarettes, and then came the initial panic. Her body went into a brief fight-flight mode. Her brain teased her, making her think there was a chance she could get away, but luckily, she chose wisely.
Laying her long coat on the back of the sofa, she stands a few feet from me. Sitting in the chair by the window, my legs splayed while I enjoy my cigarette. She doesn’t speak, but the questions are written all over her beautiful face. But she’s probably wondering what I have planned for her by now. That would be a great question, but not one I’m going to answer. That needs time and a little more work first, but when I’m finished, she can have exactly what she wants: a clean slate and the truth.
I’ll at least have the decency to offer her everything, the truth she needs, and maybe some things she doesn’t. The truth about her father, the kind of man he truly was, who killed him, and what we are going to do about that. It’s common knowledge now the police are shit out of luck. With one of their own shot and the police captain nervous about pursuing Luca Bernardi, it’s obviously up to me.
I’ve wanted a shot at Luca for a long time, but Michael was always very aware of how dangerous he was and how he was connected to many crime families here within the city. I didn’t give a fuck, but that’s why Michael was the sensible one.
“Don’t be so fucking reckless Two. We’ve gotten away with this for so long because we’re smart.” He’d say more often than not.
That’s why he was the brains and not me. Michael was clever and planned everything. He knew what we did had risks but did it anyway. He felt in some strange way, that he was doing some good in the world. I guess we were helping those who were failed by the justice system. Helping those who were ignored and cast aside, our own trauma of our pasts guiding us towards the bright light of redemption.
Lord knows we all fucking need it. This life isn’t without sacrifices. Even if the way we go about it is twisted, I don’t have any regrets.
“What do you want?” Summer’s voice is irritated, and she keeps her distance, but the question is clipped. I’m starting to feel her confidence coming back, and I like it. It’s what I wanted, for her to become a human again, not some fucking shell of a side piece, accepting scraps off that cunt Harry and being grateful when he doesn’t lay his hands on her.
Lifting my eyes to meet her accusatory glare, I see the hesitation flicker in hers. Her confidence faltering for a moment when she sees the mask, she knows why I’m here; I warned her, and she didn’t listen, but she still has time in New York before she leaves forever.
“You didn’t listen to me, Summer.” I rise to my full height and watch as she lifts her chin to hold my gaze.
Summer swallows hard before looking away. Knowing she’s been caught, she doesn’t try to hide it. When she turns back to me, her face is unreadable. Tugging her teeth between her bottom lip, she slowly nods.
“I didn’t.”
“And why is that?” I cock my head to one side, speaking calmly. I lure her into a false sense of security.
Moving closer, she continues to hold my gaze. Her body sways seductively, her eyes filled with curiosity and wonder while she begins to play a game of her own. Pressing her body into mine, she waits for my reaction, a little disappointed when I don’t step back. Raising slightly on her tiptoes, she speaks softly into my ear.
“Because, who I fuck, has nothing to do with you.”
My hand is around her throat before she can back away, her nails clawing into my wrist as I slam her against the wall.
“Who you fuck is my business. It’s my business when I fucking warned you, and it’s certainly my business when you put people’s lives in danger!” Her eyes widen in worry as I continue, “You think Harry and Luca won’t go after Detective Grey now? They already got to Strode. From what I hear, he’s barely holding on in that hospital.”
Squeezing a little harder, I watch her pupils dilate, and the vein in her temple pulsate. Easing the pressure a little, I feel her body sag and pull her towards me.
“I told you; I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” I search her curious eyes for a moment. “Eventually, Summer, I will fuck you. You’ll beg me, those deep blue eyes will plead with mine, your breathy pleas will flood my ears, and I’ll indulge your curiosity. I can’t guarantee you’ll like what you see, but I know when I sink my big cock into you over and over again and writhe beneath me, you’ll never forget me.”
I hold her gaze. Her soft pink pouty lips let out a low breath, her body giving far too much away that her mind is kicking her for. I feel her thighs rub together. I know she hates herself for how much she wants me and how much her morbid curiosity towards me turns her on. I can almost see her soul trying to claw its way from her body.
I smirk beneath the darkness. Pushing away from the wall I release Summer’s throat. She staggers slightly before bracing herself against the wall, coughing a couple of times.
“And what if I don’t want that?” She stands defiantly, watching as I move towards the exit. I feel the grin spread across my face as I turn to face her.
“You will, when you see the lengths I’ll go to to protect you and keep you safe.”
“Did you kill my dad?”
I halt at her question, it takes me by surprise as the chill rushes over me but it’s soon replaced with hot rage. Clenching my fists, I take a deep breath, half turning my head toward her.
“No, but I knew him.” I reply bluntly.
Summer?
As the door slams shut behind him, I clutch to the wall and refuse to allow my knees to give way. The dull ache between my thighs becomes unbearable as my lace thong clings to my skin.
That fucking bastard
I sigh. Yet again, our interaction just wields more questions than fucking answers. Do I believe he killed my dad? No, but he knows who did and is fucking toying with me. He never tells me what he wants, not really, and never tells me why he’s here.
