I should have known better that something like this would happen. My father had unsettled disputes. I will be plagued by my family name for the rest of my days. I’ve always felt that way, but today, this… Well, it solidifies that feeling.
It was foolish of me to think running off to the city would resolve any of my issues. Instead, I ran to the lap of a murderer, an irresistible one at that.
That’s what the most messed up part is. I barely know this man, yet, when I’m with him, I want him inside me. I feel this mind-altering experience when I am entangled in his ink-drenched skin. Just the flashback of his muscles gripping me as he ate me to orgasm makes me twinge inside.
I look at myself in the mirror before I head out. I barely recognize the woman that stares back at me as I slip my pistol into the lace garter. It was a gift from Titi Lana on my eighteenth birthday. I remember the day she gave it to me; she told me that every woman who runs in our family’s circles needs to have three weapons on her at all times: her brains, her looks, and a gun discreetly holstered, where her prey will likely fall. And given the fact that Carmine has made himself at home between my legs, killing him after he’s done there will be as poetic as his end will get.
He will pay for this.
* * *
I walk to Eric waiting outside the town car and roll my eyes at his predictability.
“You are early,” he says, peering down at the garter that just slightly peaks out of from my dress. It shows just enough to be seductive, but not enough to give away what I have stowed away in it.
“Cut the shit, Eric, I’m not in the mood,” I say as I head to the driver’s side door.
Eric scurries to follow me. “Oh, no need, Mr. Moretti specifically instructed me—” he warns as he sees me about to open the driver’s door.
I cut him off. “I don’t give a fuck what Mr. Moretti has instructed you to do,” I warn as I take the pistol from my garter. “I said I will drive tonight, now get in,” I instruct, pointing him to the passenger seat with the pistol in my hand.
Eric is calm; the fear I anticipated on his face is not there. He seems oddly unfazed by the weapon in my hand.
I glance at my watch. Eric got to the apartment early, which bodes well for me, because it gives me the opportunity to arrive before Carmine is expecting me. I need to catch him off guard. I’m so tired of this controlling prick planning every single encounter.
“I really don’t mind driving,” his voice trembles slightly, but he is surprisingly calm for me pointing a gun at him.
I cock the pistol. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You know who my father was, right?”
“Yes,” he concedes.
“Exactly, so, unfortunately for you, little encounters like this are in my DNA. So, don’t try a fucking thing. I won’t hesitate to shoot your dick off,” I warn as he hands me the keys.
I hold the pistol in my right hand the entire time just in case Eric tries anything. I probably should be worried about the level of exhilaration I feel right now, gun in hand, on the way to seduce my kill.
“Should I call Mr. Moretti and let him know we are on our way?” Eric asks.
“No, that’s fine. I’m dressed to kill tonight. I don’t want to spoil the surprise for him,” I say with a determined grin on my face.
We pull up to Carmine’s brownstone and that nauseous feeling I had when Lana told me about Carmine and Leo begins to surface again. This all feels incredibly unfair. I finally make it to the city, have this cushy job that literally affords me all the time in the word to write what I want to write on the side, given the lack of legitimate work given at said job. I meet a rockstar in the sack who worships my pussy unlike any man I have ever met, and now, I have to fucking kill him.
I throw the car in park and turn to Eric.
“I’ve got it from here, but thank you for helping me in your own fucked up way,” I say, giving him a kiss on the cheek, pistol still aimed toward his dick.
“Oh, you are more than welcome, Sienna. What are friends for, right?” Eric says in an ominous tone.
I secure my pistol back in my garter and grab my tote bag from the backseat.
“Leave,” I remind Eric as I make my way to the front door of the brownstone.
Eric slowly drives off as he peers at the front door. He knows what I plan on doing after I get my answers. I think I made my intentions with Carmine this evening clear. I just don’t need Eric parked out when the shots are fired. I need time to clean up the mess.
I go to ring the doorbell, but I notice there isn’t one. A detail I hadn’t noticed before since Eric let me in last time. There is an old, gold knocker in the shape of a bat centered on the door. I try not to smile, but there is something unexpectedly sweet about Carmine’s ode to gothic architecture.
Shit, Sienna, focus.
I lift the knocker and am startled by how quickly Carmine answers the door. As we both stand in the front of the brownstone, I notice he seems genuinely surprised at my early arrival. Good. I want him to feel thrown off. It will make what I came here to do that much easier.
