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And I’m there with her the entire time. She just doesn’t know it.
She’s going to be harder to break than I originally thought—though that’s a lie because I’ve been watching her for two years now, and I’ve seen her strength in spite of her circumstances. Her father kept her in a fishbowl—everyone looking in, her looking out.
I know what that does to a person.
I’ve done it to one of the few men that I love with every inch of my fractured, blackened soul.
But where it kills me every time I have to look at Phoenix’s face and hear the disappointment in his voice—and the resignation because he’s close to giving up now—Guido seems like he doesn’t give a whit. Or worse, that he doesn’t know because he doesn’t ever see her.
I’m certain the boys all picked up on the pattern that Guido has little to do with his daughter, but perhaps like me, they believed it was because he was trying to draw attention away from her. It’s what I would have done. If I love nothing, there’s nothing to come after to use against me.
But every time I see Guido, there’s nothing in his face except his relentless narcissism. I see a monster grasping at power who will step on anyone and anything to get it. I’ve wept for innocents that I’ve killed, and I know I’ll weep for Alice if her time comes.
But in truth—and this is something the boys don’t know yet—that’s not how I plan to use her. That’s never how I planned to use her. I let them make assumptions when I told them I wanted to take everything from Guido. But I don’t want her death—I don’t want her blood on my hands.
I want loyalty on her lips—loyalty to me. I want her body, her womb, her virginity. I want a child planted in her belly to carry on the Walsh legacy, even if I can’t give that to her myself. I want to smile into Guido’s face when he realizes exactly what I’ve done with his precious treasure he’s spent years trying to sell to the highest bidder.
She’s his golden ticket to money and power, and now she’s mine. And the triumph won’t come from forcing her to ally with us. It’ll come from her willingly offering herself to make him pay. It’s something I want to discuss with my boys, and soon, but there are still a few questions I have. A few doubts about Alice’s entire situation, and I need to sort those out before I begin the next step.
Turning off the car, I gather my things, then head immediately up the stairs for my office. It’s a breath of relief to finally be away from the chaos of the city, even if things at home aren’t calm.
Lighting up my cigar, I walk to the window and pull back the curtain. It’s dark out, and Phoenix has made his way to the gardens, heading restlessly down his private path. It’s a familiar sight, though years ago, I’d see him fumbling with his cane as he tried to get used to his new reality of being blinded, grappling with the hopelessness because there was no cure.
Of all the advances in medical science and technology, there has yet to be something that can give him back the eyes he lost, and I know that killed him then.
I’m not sure how he feels about it now. The few times I’ve tried to bring it up, he shut me out of his room and didn’t speak to me for days. I’m addicted to each and every single one of my boys, so they know that’s the best way to hurt me. I can take them, I can fuck them, I can make them scream—but they’re all strong enough to ice me out when I truly deserve it.
And sometimes when I don’t.
But I don’t mind that weakness.
I blow out a puff of smoke and roll my tongue around my mouth, savoring the taste of it because all three of the boys have been up my ass about quitting, and I’ll give in one of these days. It’s a comfort, though I don’t know why. The smell of these reminds me of my father—a man just as ruthless as Guido Romano. A man who never said the words “I love you” to anyone. I watched my mother waste away under his rule, and although I rarely say it aloud to a single soul, I made a vow never to let myself become like him.
I could go to the grave with an ocean of blood on my hands, but the people I care about will always know it.
My resolve cracks. I stub out the cigar and turn on my heel, striding out of my room. The corridor flies by me as I make my way to the dining room, where Phoenix has left the terrace door cracked. There are no lights on—he doesn’t need them, and I’ve learned to navigate the house without them—and I follow the path toward the fountain by the faint light of the half-moon to where he’s sitting sideways on a bench.
It’s a familiar spot—a place many of our most important moments have happened. This one is far less significant than the night I confessed my undying love for him, but that doesn’t mean I don’t treasure it.
He cocks his head to the side, but he doesn’t stiffen because he knows I’m the only one with the balls to follow him out here. He doesn’t make room for me, but he leans against me when I straddle the cold stone and press my soft dick right up against his ass.
“You going to be out here all night?” I murmur against the back of his ear.
He sighs and says nothing, but I can tell he enjoys it when I scrape my teeth along the back of his neck.
“I could think of a few ways to wear you out if you need help sleeping.”
He huffs. “James already tried.” His words are a little thick, which tells me he’s taken his meds, but they’re not helping. They rarely do, which I know is killing him. It’s a curse, and I know the spell to break it, but I can’t bring myself to say the words.
If I let him go, there’s no telling if he’ll try to end his life again.
It’s impossible for me to think about it for too long. Finding him seconds from death was the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life, and I cannot go through that again. I’d rather watch him die a slow death now.
“What can I do?” I offer. I know the answer is nothing. I could let him go, and he could say that, but the answer will always be no.
“Have you spoken to her yet?” he asks me in response.
The question startles me, and I take a second. “No. But James has. He was with her earlier.”
