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He walks to an armoire and opens it, takes out a fresh bottle of whiskey and twists the lid off.
“Haven’t you had enough?” I ask.
He turns to me, looking at me as he swallows three glugs out of the bottle. “Go to bed, Scarlett. I mean it. I’m about this close to losing what little control I have left tonight.”
“What did you do?” I ask, pointing to the spot. “Did you add a name?”
He steps toward me, the bottle dangling in one hand at his side. “Enemies crawl inside my house the way maggots crawl over a corpse.”
Hate punctures his words making the visual that much more terrible. It takes all I have not to back away from him.
“Where the fuck is Alec?” he barks, then opens the door and yells for him. But when he doesn’t come, he mutters a curse and loudly sets the bottle down on his desk, some of the whiskey splashing out.
He takes my arm roughly to march me out of his study and to the stairs.
“Let go!”
But he doesn’t let go. He drags me and when I stumble, he just keeps going, righting me as we take the stairs. Like he’s bringing an errant child up to her room.
“Let me go. You’re hurting me!”
“Remember it next time and do as I say,” he barks as we get to my borrowed bedroom. He opens the door. “In,” he says and deposits me inside.
“What did I do?” I cry out.
He opens his mouth as if to answer then shakes his head closing the door between us. Then, for the first time since he’s put me here, he locks me in.
25
Cristiano
She’s right about the whiskey. I’ve had enough.
But I walk into my bedroom, slam the door shut and pick up the bottle there to drink some more. Because tonight, I need it.
I place my gun on the nightstand and bring my fingers to my nose to smell her on them. The taste of her mixed with the taste of the whiskey makes me heady.
My dick is still hard. I need to fuck. Maybe I should have fucked those women my uncle supplied all this time. I couldn’t touch them though. Turned my stomach to think of it.
Her though? Fucking Scarlett De La Cruz with that big mouth she doesn’t know when to shut. Her whiskey eyes and tiny tits. Her pussy smelling like perfume and tasting like the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted?
Yeah. I could fuck her.
I could fuck her for days.
I shove my jeans and briefs off and switch on the shower because if I don’t do this now, right fucking now and right fucking here, I’m going to go back into that room and fuck her so hard I’ll rip her in two.
I meant what I said. I get a virgin when I need a whore. Because I can’t take her the way I want to. The way I need to. Not yet.
And so, with the hand I used to finger her I fist my dick and pump so hard it’s just this side of pain. When I come, it’s with one fist against the wall and the vision of her little pussy in front of my eyes. The neat little triangle of dark hair, swollen little nub poking out at me, for me. Her pussy leaking onto my tongue as she called out my name.
Called me god.
Christ.
Fuck.
I curse her as waves of orgasm take me under, drowning me. Because I am drowning. Life is drowning me.
When it’s done, I’m out of breath. Out of energy. I sit on the bench, back against the wall, eyes closed. Water washes over me. I’m too drunk to think. Which is exactly what I wanted tonight. What I needed. Besides her, that is.
She’s lucky I had sense enough to lock her away. Never mind that I have the key.
Standing again, I switch the water to cold and suck in a breath with the first icy wave. I make myself stand under it. It’s what I need to do. It’ll wake me up.
And I need to wake the fuck up.
Because what Charlie sent me today is fucked up. Marcus Rinaldi isn’t working alone, and I don’t mean the cartel. I’ve suspected that for years but now I’m sure.
There’s no way the cartel would just help him to attack me. Would help him when they know doing so would set me against them. They wouldn’t risk losing their inroad to Europe, not now. The Rinaldi family doesn’t have enough manpower to stand against me so it makes no sense that the cartel would simply back him.
No. Marcus has had some help.
I touch the spot on my arm where I fumbled the newest name. It’s illegible but maybe that’s a good thing because it was a stupid thing to do.
Switching off the water, I grab a towel, dry off then discard it and walk into the bedroom naked. I pull back the covers and climb into bed. Lenore changed the sheets so there’s no blood, but that means I can’t smell her on them anymore either.
