Page 34 of Watched

While they enjoy watching blood pour from people, I prefer to reveal my victims’ secrets to the world so I can watch their life unravel.

Dad makes the call, ordering Andre and Joey to the hangar to prepare The Weston for flight.

“Leave here in an hour,” Dad instructs, dropping into the chair on my left and sipping his scotch.

A frustrated growl sounds to my right as Blade throws himself down, lighting a cigarette.

Feeling my phone vibrate, I take it from my pocket and read the text.

Rome: I appreciate you bringing flowers for Indie, but I don’t want any contact with you. Please respect that.

Me: Your cock sure likes contact with my hand.

Rome: I mean it.

Me: You go near that little shit, and I’ll hang him from a building by his tiny dick for the world to see.

I turn my attention to Dad, who’s staring as intensely at Blade as he’s staring back. “I need a favour while I’m in LA.”

Chapter sixteen

ROME

Igroan when the high-pitched chime of my doorbell rings through the silent house, squinting against the harsh light of my phone screen. 6AM. Pulling up the security camera, I narrow my eyes on the black umbrella covering half the person, their black loafers and trousers spotted with rain.

Tapping the microphone, I speak into it. “What do you want?”

I can’t say Rain and his little dick grabbing fiasco hasn’t put me in a sour mood. I fell right into his trap, and I hate myself for it. Once Blade’s car screeched out of the car park, I scrubbed myself raw in the bathroom and only just made it back in time for the curtain to open.

A gloved hand reaches out, and the doorbell rings again. I throw back the blanket and pull my t-shirt over my head as I make my way downstairs, stumbling on the last step. Undoing the dead bolt and typing in the pin, I swing the front door open.

My throat tightens. Dark chocolate eyes, thick, well-kept hair. “Good morning, Rome.”

“A-Aaron.”

“May I come in?”

Clearing my throat, I step aside, opening the door wide. He closes the umbrella and shakes it out to lean it against the wall inside.

“You have more manners than your son,” I grit out, closing the door.

“Given Rain’s eidetic memory, one would assume he’d have learnt them already. I do apologise if I woke you, but I have other, more pressing matters to deal with, so you came first this morning.”

“I told Rain last night that I don’t want contact with him, and I’d very much appreciate him not showing up in my house.”

Aaron chuckles quietly, wiping away a few droplets clinging to his black woollen coat. “That explains the timing.”

“Excuse me?”

Just like Rain, he makes himself welcome and moves to pull out a dining chair.

I take back my statement about manners.

Stepping into the kitchen, I flick on the kettle, because I have etiquette. I’ve done my research on the Westons. This man’s net worth is in the billions. He owns a real estate development company that includes a chain of hotels and apartments, but his demeanour screams mob boss or mafia rather than CEO. I feel like a puny ant he’ll squish at the wrong word.

“I see you have better security.” He motions to the front door.

“I didn’t approve it.”