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Chapter Six
He could still fucking smell her. Taste her. She ran through his blood and poisoned him. He roared to the space around him in his study on the third floor of his house.
Dragging his hand through his hair, he stared out at the night sky, the glittering stars and just a peek of the lights of the city of New York.
Fuck.
He turned and poured himself another drink. His third in quick succession since he had left Arabelle in his bedroom on the second floor, her virginity taken.
He closed his eyes and sensations of her sweet pussy played along the length of his cock as if he were still inside her. Fuck, she had been so tight. So tight his cock had hurt as he penetrated her and only his legendary control had stopped him from taking her roughly as his body demanded until she opened up for him and only him.
And her taste. He licked his lip and knew nothing would satisfy him more than the essence that had seeped from her pussy onto his tongue.
His cock stirred again, ready to take her again, oblivious to the fact that he had hurt her when he had to breach her tightness and stretch her.
His body wanted to fuck her again, this time without holding back, without having to remind himself of the reason Arabelle Davenport was now his wife.
And then in his mind’s eye, he saw her tears.
Frustrated beyond measure, angry with the world, with the men who dared to attack one of his family, and his anger at Arabelle because she wasn’t supposed to be this way.
She was supposed to be like any other woman in the world, except she fucking wasn’t. And he had hurt her. Hard. She had been too small for him.
He smashed his glass against the window. The window was shatterproof, the glass not, and shards of crystal fell to the floor.
He dispensed with a glass completely and drank straight from the bottle.
A message from Elliot had told him Everleigh had taken a turn for the worse. The baby was still in danger. He had never felt more helpless in all his life. But he could exact vengeance. Yet the answer was right in front of him.
There was not a thing Henry Willis Davenport wouldn’t have done for his daughter. That much was clear.
If Silas held a gun to her head and threatened to kill her, Davenport would give him the name he needed.
But the thunderously tumultuous rage of pointing a gun at her wrecked him down to his soul.
It wouldn’t have worked either way and it wasn’t worth the risk. Davenport’s poor health would not stand up to the stress that kind of situation would entail.
Still, Silas kept his guard up. There was something he didn’t entirely trust about Davenport but a lead was a lead.
He had some small-scale association with both the Mexican and Brazilians.
It wouldn’t be so far-fetched to think that either the Mexicans or the Brazilians had issued the attack on Everleigh especially since they had partially ruled out the remaining Greek mafia.
Their father had been involved with the Greek mafia before he took his family and fled their deadly clutches. He changed their names from Kamaras to Knight. That he had died in Parker’s arms from a bullet to his head, ordered by his own family is what had made Parker the way he is. He had started his own mafia and had rivaled the Greeks out of honor for their father.
Parker had trained them into being lethal adversaries and shown them how to be powerful men who ruled the world and feared nothing.
He had to do this for Parker. He had to give his brother the name of the people responsible for putting his wife and their unborn child’s life in danger.
There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Parker. Elliot could say the same.
But the uneasy, overpowering feeling in his gut that Arabelle made him feel was proof enough that he stay away from her. But the clause her father had added made that impossible now. In other words, he didn’t have the luxury of staying away from her.
~~~***~~~
Arabelle opened her eyes after a miserable night. She had refused to sleep in his bed and was bound as she was to his bedroom she assumed, she retrieved a blanket from a linen closet, and picked out a sofa in the lounge area of the room.
She was exhausted and it wasn’t because the sofa was uncomfortable that she hadn’t been able to fall asleep. It was probably the most comfortable thing she had lain prostate over. She couldn’t sleep because of one Silas Knight.
