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He shoves himself inside me one more time and comes hard, filling me up and pushing out the last of Maxim’s cum with his own. He leans over me when he’s spent and slides his hand into my hair, turning my head just enough that he can press a soft kiss to my injured cheek.
“Next time he sticks his dick inside you, it will be my cum that eases his way.”
He licks my tears away before nipping my ear with his teeth.
“I don’t know what it is about your tears that turns me on,” he groans, his cock flexing inside me. “But when I see you again, I’m going to fuck your lying mouth until you cry all over my cock.”
He pulls free and gets to his feet, leaving me kneeling on the floor with his cum leaking out of me.
“The next time you see me, you better kill me because it will be the only chance you get before I take you out,” I warn him.
He shakes his head as he makes his way to the door. “The game has changed now, Sugar.”
“Fuck you, Rémy. This isn’t a game. It’s my life,” I whisper-hiss, looking at Maxim to make sure he’s still asleep.
He looks at my cheek one last time, something flickering in his eyes before he nods his head. “See you soon.”
He disappears before I say anything else, leaving me to drag myself to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and slide down the tiled wall to the floor of the stall, drawing my knees to my chest. I wrap my arms around my legs and let the hot water pound down on me.
I never knew what I was capable of or what I was willing to put up with until Rémy. I could have killed him. I should have killed him, but I can’t bring myself to hurt him, and because of that, I have to leave. Rémy has found me twice now. Neither Calix nor Maxim will be safe while I have Rémy hounding me. I give in to the feeling of hopelessness.
Somehow, in my bid to fix things, I made everything so much worse. I’m not even any closer to finding Santos. I lift my head at that. What if the trick is not finding him but letting him find me? Maybe he’ll kill me before I get close enough to kill him, but at least it would all be over. And then maybe I can get some fucking peace.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Inurse my drink, using the straw to move the ice around the glass. It feels strange sitting here just as I am. No wig, no contacts, no false name. Well, I guess that’s not exactly true. Sitting here as Sophia is a lie. Sophia did die on that boat. She sure as hell wasn’t the same person who reached the shore.
Using that name now makes my stomach turn, but being bait means enticing predators, and I don’t have the luxury of waiting. I need Santos to find me before Rémy does, and he will. He would never let me run unless it was on his terms. I should have realized that from the start.
I turn in my chair, my skirt sliding up my thighs, drawing the attention of the men closest to me. I pretend I’m oblivious, sipping on my drink as I scan the room. It’s a risky move for me, sitting in the heart of the city that swore its allegiance to my tormentor.
Cirillo territory is a mess now. People were displaced after Santos’s death and Calix’s incarceration. I could hear the whispers of Calix being free the second I walked in, so I know the man hasn’t been keeping a low profile. Whether that’s because he has plans to join his brother, usurp him, or he’s just not interested in keeping himself hidden remains to be seen. Honestly, it’s not my problem anymore.
My life isn’t here. It’s hundreds of miles away with a family I made, not the doomed one I was born into. I have my own houses, cars, and money. I can do what I want when I want. No man needed. I refuse to settle for anything less than what my girls have found.
These men in my life who demand their pieces of me without giving me anything in return can find a new toy to play with. I’m too old and too jaded to settle for scraps. What I want from them is truth, trust, and, dare I say it, love. Is that so much to ask for? Maybe I’m looking for the right things in the wrong men.
A finger tap on my shoulder has me looking up into the eyes of a man who looks like he eats children for breakfast. His eyes dip to my chest, which, given the bra I’m wearing, isn’t surprising. If he didn’t look at the girls, who are barely covered, I would have assumed he was gay.
“You come here often?” he murmurs.
“Wow, so people really do use that line? Who knew?” I roll my eyes and move to spin back around on my chair when he places his hand on my arm to halt my movement.
He chuckles and apologizes, “I’m not used to talking to such a beautiful woman. Forgive me.”
Talk about cheesy. I’m tempted to tell him I’m lactose intolerant, but he’d probably take it as a come-on. His eyes flick up briefly before dropping to my chest again as he signals for the bartender to pour me another drink. I turn and hold mine up to show the bartender I’m good when I realize I walked right into this guy’s trap.
Unfortunately for him, he might be good, but I’m better. He’s slick. A quick move, with zero hesitation, and the little vial in his hand is upended into my glass, the clear liquid instantly hidden in my fruity cocktail.
What he didn’t account for was the mirror behind the bar. I bite my lip and sigh, signaling to the bartender, who walks over with a huff at being messed around with.
“I’ll just take a bottle of water, please. I have a headache.” I hold out a few notes, showing her that there is a tip in it for her too.
She nods, takes my drink, and brings back a cold bottle of water.
The guy behind me tenses but plasters on a fake smile when I turn back to him.
“Sorry about that. I’m not feeling great. I should go.”
