Sick Bastard (18 page)

“And you know this how?”

“It’s just simple knowledge.” The fuck it is, but I don’t have it in me to argue. I look at his hand and see the fading scars running across his knuckles like an old map. Was he a boxer? His hands are rough, making me think he’s more of a middle class worker than a privileged businessman.

“Dante?”

“Hmm.” He mumbles around a yawn. Urging me on, he pushes his hand further into mine. His hand’s so large that it dwarfs my small one. The skin of his hands are rough and rugged, but still there’s something every elegant about them. Could be the way he uses them.

“Why are your hands so scarred?” I only get a shrug.

We lay together and watch the movie, comfortable and peaceful in each other’s arms, and then I’m out like a light.

Dante

I sleep hard on most occasions. There are no dreams. I don’t need to drink or pop any sedatives. There are usually no bodies haunting me, but that’s not the case tonight. One small, soft body has me restless and anxious.

Sitting against my headboard, I nurse my Grappa. The cold glass rests on my knee and the condensation wets my hand. Staring out of my floor to ceiling windows, I wonder if I threw myself out of them if it would stop the madness. It’s doubtful. Even in death, I’ll wreak havoc on this fucking city―everyone I’ve ever touched, and myself.

Looking back at London sleeping peacefully and soundly in my bed, an unsettling feeling crawls over me. I feel guilt for dragging her here with me. I set out for exactly this and now I’m second-guessing myself. I need to grow a pair and stop letting a woman I hardly know control so goddamn much of my self-control, and my mind.

She’s a need I’m not familiar with, yet over these past few weeks, I’ve become well acquainted with these strange emotions. No matter what I do, I feel like I can’t get close enough. It’s a demand I can’t feed enough to satisfy. It’s insatiable, and it’s beginning to drive me insane.

“You’re staring at me again,” London grumbles from under the pillow. She shifts and one smooth leg snakes out from under the comforter.

“How the hell do you know?” I laugh. Her head is under a pillow. She can’t see me.

“My ninja instincts.” For as smart-mouthed as she is, she’s damn funny too.

“I’m staring.” I concede. Why hide it? It’s only becoming obvious that staring is all I ever do when she’s around.

A head of messy dark hair pops out from under the pillow and blinks up at me. Rolling over, she throws her hands above her head and stretches. She’s long and lean, and sexy as fuck. “Am I keeping you awake?” She asks with a smirk.

“Yes.” It’s it the truth. I’ve never had an issue with sleeping until meeting this woman.

“Should I go? You’ve got work and you really need to sleep.” Whether she goes or stays, I’m not sleeping tonight.

“No, stay.”

~~~~~~

I’m pulled from sleep by my phones incessant ringing. I finally fall asleep, only to be woken up by my cell. From now on, as long as London’s here, that shit is going on vibrate at night. Looking down, London’s head is resting on my shoulder. She’s sleeping soundly, which I can’t understand, but I leave her be.

“What?” I snap into the phone. I listen to Josh as he runs off a list of all the things my incompetent guys were unable to handle on their own last night.

“We need you, Boss.” I don’t give them much, yet they still manage to fuck it up royally. How does anything ever get done? How can my businesses run with such idiots at my side. I need to look into better, more competent workers.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Tossing my phone back on the nightstand, I turn towards London. I stare down at her and consider how terribly wrong this could all go. It could end in blood, so do I really want that for her? Picking up a piece of soft hair, I run my fingers through it. Looking at her sweet face pressed into my skin, I can’t help but want to worship every inch of perfection laying against me, danger or not.

I know she’s more than most. London is like no other woman. Sitting up, London rolls away and turns onto her side while the blanket tangles around her. Reaching a hand out, I touch her leg carefully. “London?” Of course she doesn’t move. I didn’t expect that she would. “Come on, beautiful. You’ve got to get up.”

~~~~~~

I get London into her car and on her way home as quickly as possible without being completely obvious. I hate to see her go, but business is my number one priority.

She doesn’t buy my work emergency excuse. Pouting, she stomps her way to the elevator and then to the car. If I wasn’t in such a shit mood myself, I might find it cute. Being woken up by Josh’s irritating voice, rushed out the door without having morning sex with London, and no goddamn breakfast, doesn’t provide for a good start to my morning.

Opening her car door for her, I usher her inside. Shutting the door, she rolls down the window and leans out, giving me the best scowl I’ve seen from her yet. “You owe me sleepy morning sex … and breakfast,” she grumbles. Blowing me a quick kiss, she rolls her window up before I can formulate a response. Confusing fucking woman.

If I would’ve known I wouldn’t see her again for a solid, crippling week, I would’ve kept her locked away in my apartment. I certainly wouldn’t have let her drive off with a goddamn unsatisfied pout on those sweet lips. What the fuck can I do? I don’t fucking know.

~~~~~~

Work is work. My week’s been shit. I cleaned up messes I didn’t make. Did a little destroying and a little rebuilding. Conference calls, meetings, and paperwork wrap up my days. I texted London a few times but she said she had studying for finals to do, and as much as it pains me to leave her alone, I figure there are more productive things I could be doing in life other than stalking her. Work might be one of those things. I’ve also got the weekly card night at my place tonight, so that could be a good distraction since she’s made it clear she’s not interested in seeing me. She drove it home with her text,

To: D

Go away, stalker. I have finals.

From: London

Of course her text means shit to me. Her text doesn’t deter me one single bit. If that itch comes back, I’ll need it scratched and a text won’t stop me from finding her whether she wants me to or not. But for right now, I’m coping … but just barely. I’ll try to leave her alone because I know how busy she is and she doesn’t need distractions from me. She’s worked hard, and even I’ve seen that, but I make absolutely no promises if the urge begins to drive me crazy.

~~~~~~

Sitting around the table, the teammates sit across from one another. Cam sits across from me, Pete’s across from Josh, and Geo is across from Vinn. This is how the game is played. Drinks and cigars in hand, we’re three hours into a game of Scopa. Carmine is three sheets to the wind and it was his choice of game tonight. Leave it to him to pick the rowdiest game.

Bets are placed on the highest scorer. “Thousand,” Josh throws down.

“Two,” I counter. We both look at Cam and wait for his bet.

“She still doesn’t know?” Cam slurs at me. I let my head sag. He’s been at it for a while now, and this shit is wearing me thin.

“Bet.” I urge him, hoping he’ll shut the fuck up.

“She’ll find out soon enough.” He adds. Yeah, I have no doubt she will, just not from my mouth. “Shut the fuck up and place your bet.”

“Asshole.” He grumbles back, slapping a crumpled up stack of twenties on the table.

“Did someone just knock?” Pete stands up and turns to look toward the door, hand on his gun.

“I don’t know, but sit the fuck down and put that thing away, would ya.” Walking to the door, I look through the peephole to find a head full of brown hair and big green eyes staring back at me.

Pulling open the door, London almost looks shocked to see me. “What’s wrong?” She stands in front of me, shifting around. For this first time since meeting this woman, she looks unsure and uncomfortable, and it’s not because of me.

“I-uh … I …”

“You what? Just say what you have to say,” I demand in a threatening tone, losing my patience.

She’s actually starting to scare me.

“I’m scared.” She whispers and thrusts a piece of paper at me. Through blurry, watery eyes, she looks up at me, waiting.

I stare between her and the piece of paper in my hand, wondering what the fuck she wants me to do with it. She doesn’t offer an explanation.

Don’t you think for a second that we’re done, amore mia. You have something that we want, and we’ll do what we have to do to get it, understand? We’re always watching, and we’re waiting. See you soon.

Instantly my blood boils. No one, and I mean
no one,
uses those precious words for her but me. NO ONE!

London

Six men openly gape at me while I stand here and suck back tears at his front door. I’ve no clue why I thought coming here was a good idea, but here I am. I guess a small part of me feels safe when Dante’s around, but there’s also something comforting about being near him, even when he’s being a creep.

I came home from my last day of school to find that disturbing little piece of paper tacked to my door―a door that requires you to pass a doorman and security to get to it. But Dante’s able to get past it easily, so Perry could too.

Why couldn’t I just celebrate my last day of educational hell like any regular person? I just wanted to come home and throw on nasty sweats and drink a bottle of wine or two. Why did that stupid fucking piece of paper have to be tacked to my door?

“How do you do it?” Looking from me to the paper, he seems confused.

“I didn’t leave this note, London.”

“I know that, but how do
you
do it? How do you get into my apartment? How do you get past security and the doorman?’

For the first time he blanches and looks embarrassed. If I wasn’t having a mini panic attack, I may actually celebrate it. “London, you honestly don’t want to hear the answer, but I see where you’re going with this. I’ll remedy the situation.”

“You’ll remedy what? How do you plan to fix it.

“I’ll fix it, I said.” Maybe that strong, self-assurance and that unaffected attitude of his is what drew me here tonight.

“How, Dante?”

“That’s another question you really don’t want answered, just like the others. I have my ways, so don’t question me.” That doesn’t make me feel better. I’m just supposed to rely on him? A man I really only know in the biblical sense?

“Easy? I’m just supposed to trust you?” But I do, don’t I? That’s why I’m here.

“Yes. You need to trust me.”

Sadly, there’s no remedy or quick fix for this situation. If there were, I would’ve tried to find a way to handle it years ago.

I moved back to New York six months ago. I hadn’t been here in years. When Grandfather gave us the okay, we packed up and hurried back here. I was hoping and praying I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit again, but apparently all that hoping and praying was for naught, because they’ve tracked me down,
again
. I really thought that seeing Perry at the charity event was a fluke, but I don’t believe that’s the case now. He had to have known somehow that I would be there. They must be stalking me too.

I’ve ran from Perry and my father for years, hoping they wouldn’t bother with me again. There are two people I’m scared of―Perry and my father. The man who helped give me life terrifies me to no end. It’s sick.

To my father, I’m a pawn. He doesn’t want me, he wants what I stand to gain. He wants to take something that never would’ve belonged to him. It’s something he’ll get over my dead body.

“Get in here. I’m not heating the entire building.” Dante’s fingers latch around my wrist and pull me inside, shutting the door behind me.

“I can go if you’re busy.” Looking over at the table of men, they’re all still staring at me like I may bust out into song at any moment.

“You’re fine.” He assures me softly.

I’m lead to the couch and handed a glass of red wine. “Am I interrupting your game with your friends?”

“You’ve met Pete, Vinn, Cam, and Geo,” he laughs when he says Geo’s name, “and this is Josh.”

“Hey guys.” They all say hello or nod their heads in my direction.

Vinn, the short round man, stands up and looks me over, “Would you like a cannoli, little one?” He asks in broken English, scurrying off towards the kitchen in a hurry before I can answer. His returns with a Tupperware container.

“Am I not a woman? Of course I do.”

“Here, eat. My wife made.” How could I turn down a cannoli? I can’t. It would be a crime of the worst kind. Taking a bite, my mouth waters from the crisp outside shell and the fluffy smooth cream on the inside with small bits of chocolate throughout.

“So good,” I mumble around a mouth full. “You know, Vinn, I think your wife and I could be good friends.”

“I’ll tell her. She’ll be happy.” Not as happy as my mouth is right now.

Vinn insists on feeding me one right after the other while Pete starts yapping my ear off about the Yankees. The rest stare at me awkwardly, except for Goldfish. He just gapes. “That Jeter is gonna win it for us this year. You a fan?” Pete asks me.

“Shut up. She does not care about any of that shit.” Vinn barks at him from the kitchen. Goldfish grins. Good God. Looking up at Dante, he just smirks and snorts a laugh at me.
Help me
, I mouth at him.

“Alright, assholes. Leave my girl alone. I’m sure you all have shit to be doing anyways.”

“Come on, Dante. We’re just havin’ a little fun with princess here.” Cam says, shooting me a sly smile.

“Get the fuck out of my house.” And they do, but not before Vinn leaves me a month’s worth of cannoli’s. I think I love him.

Sipping my wine and munching on a cannoli, I tell Dante there was no need for him to kick his friends out.

“They’re a bunch of assholes who were boring me to death. It was time they cleared out anyways.” Like I said, he’s not a man you argue with.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do here. Camp out on his couch until Perry dies or until Dante gets sick of my shit. I’m sure he’s uninterested in dealing with my shit.

“Maybe I should go.”

“You’re staying.”

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I’m not letting you go. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Just make yourself comfortable and we’ll sort some of this shit out in the morning.” Standing up, he holds his hand out to me and smiles, “Take a bath since you seem to love those so much. I’ll set something out for you and we can watch a movie or whatever you want.” This is sweet … too sweet. It’s scary how much I like it.

~~~~~~

I’m bathed and dressed. Walking into his bedroom, I find him sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, watching the door. “What are you doing? Is everything alright?”

“I was just waiting for you.”

“Okay, but why are you sitting in the corner?”

“I wasn’t sure where you wanted me.”

“This is your place, so I should be asking you where you want me.”

“Yes, but I’m trying to make you comfortable.”

“I’m tired. Could we lay in here and watch a movie?”

“Yes. Go ahead and lie down,” he orders, looking at me and back to the bed.

Getting a good running start, I leap into the bed with a bounce landing in the middle. Peeling the blankets back, I burrow into the sheets and get comfortable. They smell just like Dante―clean and fresh with just the slightest hint of Armani.

“You’re strange,” he says as he kicks his shoes off.

“So what are you gonna do about it?” I ask, flopping onto my back so I can look at him. I watch in utter fascination as he unbuttons his shirt. He’s torturing me.

“I’m not gonna do anything about your weirdness. I like you just the way you are,” he says while undoing the last button.

“You like me?” I feign shock. With a casual flick of his eyes, he appraises me from head to toe. “Oh, I like you,” he growls.

“Hmm. I kinda like you too,” I tell him as I watch him pull down the zipper of his pants.

“Only
kinda
?”

“Yeah, just kinda.”

“London?”

“Yes?”

“I’m gonna fuck the
kinda
right out of you.” That’s what I was hoping he’d say.

~~~~~~

A few hours later I feel the bed dip, rousing me from my sex induced sleep. Lifting my head up, I see Dante sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. I don’t move, I just watch him with his elbows resting on his knees, rubbing his hand across his scruffy beard. He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t move, but after a few minutes, I hear his phone vibrate on the table next to the bed. He must have turned the ringer off for the night. He picks it up and answers, but sits there quietly listening before he says “Fuck,” gets up and leaves the room.

I wait a few moments before slipping out of bed to follow him. I watch him walk into a room at the end of the hallway so I quietly make my way to the open door and peek inside The room looks like an office. A large desk sits in the middle, facing the door and a large window sits behind it. Rows of bookshelves line one wall, filled with books.

Walking right up to one of the shelves, he starts pulling out books, setting them on his desk as he goes. He continues to stack them one on top of the other from the same shelf until it’s cleared, at which point he pulls out what looks like one of those false backs, and places it by his feet. What the fuck is he doing, and what could he have in there?

Reaching in, he pulls out a stack of papers and begins rifling through them. With a satisfied nod, he turns back to his desk and sets them down next to the books.

He reaches inside again and this time, he pulls out a gun. I’m not shocked that he has a gun in his home. Hell, I’ve shot them before at shooting ranges and I’m not too bad, if I say so myself, but I don’t understand why he would have it hidden in a place that would be hard to get to.

Turning it over a few times, he examines it closely and cocks it. The click of a bullet falling into the chamber rings around the quiet room. With a scary, sadistic looking smile on his face, he tucks it neatly into the waistband of his pants at his back. A shiver of fear tickles my skin, but maybe he’s putting it in a better place to get to it like I just thought he should.

His phone buzzes again. Jerking it off of his desk, he snaps at the caller, “What?” Stalking to a door at the other end of the room, I can hear him say, “I’m fucking trying. Give me some goddamn credit. I can’t do it to her, not yet.” Her? As in
me
her? What can’t he do yet? Is he even talking about me?

With his phone cradled in his hand, he disappears out the other door. Holy shit, is he gonna kill me? Had I misjudged this whole situation? Have I been blind to him all along? It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time.

But why would he want to kill me? What would he stand to gain, unless Perry or my father got to him? No, that doesn’t make any sense. Dante doesn’t seem like a man that can be bribed into anything. He can’t be bought, or maybe he can. Maybe he’s more than just a mergers & acquisitions guy like he says he is. Grandfather had told me once that everyone can be bought, you just have to find their price.

Shit. Perry couldn’t buy him off because he doesn’t have enough money, or at least I fucking hope not. Shit, shit and double shit.

Taking a step back from the door, I turn and run into Dante. Tipping my head back, I look up at him as he stares down at me with his phone still clutched in his hand and his eyes dance with amusement. “What are you doing, London?” He asks and I can hear the suspicion laced in his voice. Lie. Lie, bitch, Lie.

“I woke up alone and came looking for you.” I’m a shit liar and he’s made that clear on many occasions. He lifts a suspicious eyebrow and I know he doesn’t believe me.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” To my surprise, he lets it go at that. He doesn’t push or prod and I couldn’t be more thankful.

“Well head back to bed and get some sleep. We’ve got things to do this weekend.”
We’ve
got shit to do this weekend?

“What are we doing?” A firm hand urges me down the hall while he keeps silent. I fight the questions bubbling up. What about the gun? What can’t he do to me, or
her
, yet? But even I know not to mess with a man with a gun, so I stuff it.

Digging in my heels, I tip my head back and look at him, waiting for a response. “What are
we
doing this weekend?”

“You’re going to happily and compliantly accompany me to a function.” He answers me with a soft smile. Oh I am, am I?

“Compliantly?” I’m not a slave.

“Yes, London. Complying, conforming, adhere to.” Is he serious? Did he hit his head on his way back in here?

“Are you fucking with me?”

“I most certainly am not
fucking
with you. You’ll come. You’ll drink, dance, and be fucking merry. You’ll behave, and if you’re a good girl, I’ll show you, in so many ways, how grateful I can be.”

We get to the bedroom and he nods toward the bed, “Get in.”

“And if I don’t?” Sighing deeply, he places his hands on his hips and looks annoyed. “Then you stand here all night or sleep on the floor. Whatever makes you happy, London.” Yeah, I’m not sleeping on the floor.

“You’re not going to force me?”

“Do you want me to?”

“No.”

Putting two large hands on my shoulders, he spins me towards the bed. Leaning into my back, he buries his face in my neck, wrapping and arm around my waist. “London, do you always have to be so fucking difficult?”