AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twelve
ROSIE
Iwalk around the plush mini mansion that Julian owns, nestled away in the suburbs. We’d driven up a long gravel driveway to a large grey stone building with a smaller separate building beside it, likely a garage. There had been staff tending to the gardens, cutting the trees and mowing the grass as we passed but he’d quickly dismissed the housekeeping staff for the remainder of the day once we’d entered the large double front doors.
The entryway was large and airy, featuring a grand staircase with twisted metal balusters and real wood flooring. We move through into a lounge area, where I run my hands over everything, reminding myself that this life should have been mine.
Photos of him and Creed, various awards he’s gained for his charity work in Newtown and newspaper articles are framed and on display. There’s even a picture of his parents in a silver burnished frame. I wordlessly knock it face down on the sideboard as we pass, feeling satisfied when I hear the glass crack. Julian glares at me, but says nothing of my pettiness.
Three large leather sofa’s form a U shape around a walnut coffee table, facing the large ornate fireplace and I smile, imagining chilly winter evenings spent curled up watching the fire crackle. The wall opposite is completely covered with books, the large floor to ceiling shelves stacked with law texts, classic literature, and well-worn paperbacks. Jealousy pangs in my chest and I swallow uncomfortably. I haven’t been able to buy and keep books for a long time, since I had nowhere to store them and I jumped around between my followers and Lola. Her tiny apartment barely had space for her small crappy TV, let alone a bookcase. The whole house smells like him, like books and coffee.
We finally settled in his home office, a room filled with dark woods and more books.
He sits at his desk, a large bespoke piece with intricately carved legs and I can tell how much he cherishes it, the wood gleaming and perfectly polished.
“If you want me to stay here, I have conditions.”
“I don’t want you here Rosie.” He looks up at me over the edge of the papers he’s holding. His green eyes flash, and not for the first time do I wonder how he ended up with eyes like that and his tarnished gold hair, when both his parents had been dark haired and dark eyed. True Italian genetics shone through in them, and while Julian had Felix’s features, his strong nose, clean cut jawline, there was none of Lina in her son. Interesting.
“Don’t lie.” I fall back onto the couch near another ornate fireplace with carved dragons and laugh. “Someone wants to bring us down; we don’t have time for lies.”
Julian wants me, it’s the one thing I’m certain of right now and I’d be the one lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about him naked. Our little dinner, where I’d left him behind, had only served to show me just how explosive it could be between us. The hate we harbored for one another, was so close to love it was painful. The life we could have had together taunted us at every turn, and every explosive touch, every lingering gaze was just a reminder that he had betrayed me and now everything was ruined.
I push off my heels, making a show of rubbing my feet and calves, digging my thumbs in with small groans, pretending that I can’t feel his eyes on me. The sharp intake of breath that I almost miss as I begin rolling down my snagged and ripped stockings, makes something in my chest flutter and I have to bite down on my bottom lip to stop myself from making a flippant comment.
I grin as I hear him swallow. “Fine, let’s hear your terms.”
Jay had already made it very clear that no one was to know I was here, in fact he’d started putting out rumors that I was dead. The Queen of Hearts vanquished by the great Julian Asaro, the very capable and handsome head of The Family, as retribution for the desecration of St Mary’s. Even though I was innocent. His little ploy would supposedly help us flush out whoever wanted both of us so tied up in one another, we overlooked them. He also cut off my communication with my people by confiscating my possessions, and I was forbidden from leaving the grounds. No one, not even Lola and Cato knew that I was still alive, lounging on a sofa that cost more than my entire wardrobe of thrifted and hand-me-down clothes.
Not that I minded in the short term, Julian had a huge pool with beautiful gardens and a kitchen I wanted to live in. I haven’t had a permanent home since mine was destroyed, literally since Belcastro had it burned to the ground and I had to move to keep from being found. I couldn’t risk it. I had been living on the streets, squatting with Lola, sofa surfing, bed-hopping and imposing on my supporters over the last ten years. Having one place to hide away for a while sounded like bliss, it was definitely more like a holiday than a prison sentence. One I intended to make the most of.
I sigh dramatically, holding up my ruined stockings. Elijah Creed owes me a new pair and I’ll make sure I get them before I leave, even if I have to strangle him with the old pair first to get them.
Tossing the destroyed hosiery aside, I sit back and tap my fingers against my lips. “I want your room.”
He thinks I’m being difficult; I can see it in the way his lips pull into a tight line and I resist the urge to climb across his desk and grab his chin before forcing his lips apart with my tongue. “Why? There are three other guest rooms here. Pick one of them.”
Unfastening the front buttons on my bloody, dirty dress, I allow it to pop open and reveal my lace bra. I send up a silent thank you to all the deities that I’d decided to wear nice, matching underwear today. “No. I want yours.”
“Anything else?” He looks away, and I can’t stop the butterflies in my stomach. I didn’t intend to seduce him…I just wanted to play with him a little. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to make him squirm as I got what I wanted.
“A fully stocked kitchen and my weapons back.” Standing, I push the dress down over my shoulders and let it fall. When it gets stuck at my waist, I shimmy it the rest of the way down. Curse my mother and her Welsh heritage for giving me hips that men literally die for.
“Yes, to the first, no way in hell to the second.” Julian fixes me with a stare as he tries to avoid glancing at my bare skin. “I don’t want you to kill me in my sleep.”
“Fine.” Smiling, I lay down on his couch, hand over my head like some sort of artist’s model as I lounge virtually naked on his furniture. I never expected him to agree to give me my blade and my gun back, but it was worth asking. Besides, I was good with my hands and you’d be surprised how many things around the home could be weaponized. My uncle Alessio had taught me how to use what I had to hand, so I wouldn’t always be reliant on specific toxins or chemicals. The results were usually crude, but they came in handy.
When I’d killed Frankie Rossi, I’d had to pose as a personal chef for almost a month. He didn’t trust me, and would have me patted down at the beginning and end of every shift. His paranoia meant he’d sent his family away, only keeping a skeleton crew as staff. I was only allowed to use the produce he supplied, and I was watched closely by the man he’d hired as security.
Well…let’s just say my oral skills make me very trustworthy with big burly bodyguards and household bleach should never be mixed with vinegar. Especially not if your bodyguard is incapacitated in a broom closet and your chef wants to carve out your heart. Rigging his dining room to release chlorine gas through his meal was one of the easiest things I’d ever done since he’d sent all the staff except me and the bodyguard home. I lingered outside once I’d served him, listening as he’d sputtered and coughed. I’d had to bite down on the back of my knuckles to keep from laughing as he got to his feet and stumbled around. The second I heard Frankie’s body hit the floor, I’d opened the windows and dragged him into the kitchen where I tied him to a chair. I apparently have a fetish for tying men to chairs. I wonder what that says about me?
He’d been a portly man once, a giant to my eighteen-year self, but the man before me was old and thin. His cheeks were hollowed and his skin waxy as he came around, looking at me with terrified eyes. He had known, just like the others that his days were numbered. He screamed louder than any of the rest had when I began cutting into him. Cracking his chest was nowhere near as satisfying as it should have been and when I’d carefully packaged up his shriveled little heart, I briefly wondered if it was because I still had his sons on my list.
“Is that all?” Julian shuffles some papers around on his desk, bringing me out of my memories, before loosening his tie. He looks tired and I resist the urge to get up and massage his shoulders. He’s not my lover, he’s not even my partner . . . he’s just Julian. Jay. The boy with the floppy gold hair, who stole my first kiss, who betrayed my family and has spent the last ten years playing games with me like it was some sort of secret code between us. We defied common sense. We can’t be explained by rationality because we’re both monsters who lurk in the shadows and we’re intertwined in a way that transcends common sense.
“For now…” I say as I twirl my hair in my fingers lazily. He should have killed me already. I should have destroyed him. But here we are. “Where is Creed?”
Elijah Creed was a strange man. He’d been by Julian’s side since they were young despite their fathers often being opposed to one another, according to my sources. Augustine Creed had been a fighter, a man dragged up on streets who fought tooth and nail for everything he had and when Belcastro made him a Captain, and put him in charge of running The Gryphon, the underground boxing ring, he’d been happy with his lot in life. He was hard on his son, forcing him to fight and like many other parents within The Family, using his fists to discipline his child. Felix Asaro had that in common with him at least. Felix had been hungry for power, it was why he’d practically licked Belcastro’s asshole, in hopes of progressing his family and he didn’t care who he had to fuck, kill or maim to work his way up the greasy pole. So how did the two of them ever become friends? What drew them together?
“He’s doing a little digging for me into who else could have done this. We’ve been having…some issues.”
It had to be someone who would gain from us taking each other out, someone who knew that the church was a line that couldn’t be crossed for either side. I think back to the meeting and unease settles in my stomach. There were many discontented voices there that night, and betrayal was always lingering. Trust was a fragile thing, like a butterfly. Hold on to it too hard, rely on it too much and you’d crush it in the palm of your hands. What good is a butterfly with broken wings?
Esme and Valentina would be at the top of my list logically, since Esme had one of the biggest grudges to settle and Valentina was a nasty old bitch. Esme wasn’t cold hearted enough; I don’t think she has it in her to hurt innocents. Especially not children. Valentina, well, she was the wicked witch who lived in the woods in someone’s story.
“Hmmmm, yes. Cartel. White Rabbit. Russians. Want me to take those issues off your hands, Jay?” I make a pouting face, teasing him as I ignore his eye roll and muttering.
He grumbles, placing the papers flat on his desk. “Of course you know everything.”
Whoever planned would have to either be a part of The Family, or they would have had insider knowledge. There weren’t many things that would force Jay to lash out at me in anger. I had killed so many men and women over the years hunting down those who’d played their roles in my parents’ betrayal, and yet, they knew this was one of them.
This little stunt was forcing him into a corner. Either he dealt with me brutally, thus taking me out of the equation and out of the running for the crown in our little game of power or he stayed silent and was shown to be weak. That hesitation from him would only serve to show how unfit he was to oversee The Family, meaning the little mastermind behind this could come in and steal control legitimately.
“What did you say about me? He wants me dead.” Creed didn’t scare me, in fact I had a strange respect for him. I had heard the rumors surrounding Augustine Creed and his discipline for both his child and his wife, everyone had. Hell, when I knocked Creed on his ass, I felt the scars carved into his skin, almost buried beneath the tattoos. Anyone who can survive that, and still pledge loyalty to this Family was crazy, and I liked crazy.
Sounding tired Julian groans, “I said I was going to take care of it.”
I can’t stop chuckling, as I wiggle my toenails, the red paint dancing. “So, he thinks you’re putting me out to pasture right now, instead of sprawling on your couch?”
Boy, was that man in for a surprise, especially when he found me here, in Julian’s home, making myself comfortable. And I intended to make myself very comfortable. What did it say about our little game that the King of the castle hadn’t even told his best and only friend about his plan? This little act of secrecy was yet another crack I intended to exploit at a later date.
“Something like that…” His phone rings, he checks the name, and given the way he winces, I assume it’s the man himself. He swipes, refusing the call and then places his phone screen down.
“And when this is over?” I don’t want to ask, but I have to. The fact that I was here, still gathering tidbits to use against him like it was second nature to me despite our momentary truce makes me spit out the words.
We’re still enemies, we still have a complicated past and neither of us can wash that away. Our hands are stained with it, the pain and bloodshed, mine more than his. I cannot just step back while he continues living the life that should have been mine. Using the powers that should have been given to me.
“We’ll deal with it then.”
“Where will you be sleeping tonight?” I stand with a stretch, breaking the tension that had crept back into our conversation.
“In the guest room next to yours, I suppose. Try not to murder me in the middle of the night. I rather like breathing.” The way Julian watches my body move almost makes me want to do a whole yoga session in front of him, but I think that may be a little extreme. Even for me.
“Well, night,” I mumble before quietly leaving the room, making sure my hips sway just a little more as I go, my cream thong and bra doing the job they should as I feel his gaze on me again. Even if a little blood has ruined them by soaking through my dress.
It isn’t hard to find Julian’s bedroom; it’s got his personality stamped all over it. Dark bottle green walls, crisp white sheets, dark woods and more stacks of books and papers everywhere, it’s all very masculine and him.
The first thing I do is strip off my underwear, shower and crawl between the soft sheets. I’m engulfed by the scent of him and as I bury myself in the covers, I wish things were different, but it’s only for a fleeting moment because it stings and I don’t want to think about what comes after. I lay awake thinking about Jay, how I felt like I knew him almost as well as I knew myself, which should be impossible given how little time we’ve actually spent together.
It’s around midnight when I hear soft footfalls outside the door, and the guest room door opening and closing. Grinning to myself, I push the covers down, cupping my breasts. Moaning louder than I normally would, I spread my legs, relishing how the expensive sheets feel against my clean skin. My hands explore the soft lines of my body, trailing down my sternum, between my breasts, up over the hard nubs, back down along my ribs. Lower and lower, in no rush, enjoying the sensations it sends through me.
I slide two fingers through the slickness gathering between my legs, pinching my nipple hard with my other hand. Another groan leaves me. It’s him. It’s knowing he’s next door, that he can hear me. It’s being surrounded by the scent of him, tangling myself up in his sheets as I play with myself. I slow down, getting too close, too quick.
My pussy throbs, swollen and sensitive as I imagine him sitting between my legs, encouraging me, telling me what a good girl I am. The fantasy has me almost whimpering. Would he fuck me hard and fast, or would he drag it out painfully? Teasing me until my cunt was dripping and I was desperate for him? Would he wrap my hand around his fist and bite down on my neck as he ploughed into me? Maybe he would worship every inch of my skin with those large hands of his, his mouth and tongue desperate to taste me, to mark me, to claim me.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkkk.” I call out loudly as I come, clenching the sheets with one hand and covering my pussy with the other, feeling it clench and pulse around an imaginary cock.
Leaning back into the sheets, I hear muffled noise coming from the room next door. Followed by the shower running. There weren’t many things I was certain of, but this was one of them: Julian Asaro’s cock would be inside me before the end of the week.
