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“I want to talk to my sister.”
“No, good evening, how are you?” I taunt.
“Fuck you, Russo. It’s been a week with no word from you.”
“Your sister is fine.” I walk to a quiet area with less people. “There’s no need for concern.”
“I want to speak to her.”
“She’s not with me.”
“Where are you?” he asks with disdain. “Are those slot machines I hear? Are you in a fucking casino?”
“You know what the business requires.”
“Where’s my sister?”
My tone is dry. “At this hour, she’s sleeping cozily in her bed.”
“Yeah, well, excuse me for not taking your word where my sister’s welfare is concerned. My mother is worried about her.” He adds after a pause, “So am I.”
“I’ll be home tomorrow night. I’ll let you speak to her then.”
“Why can’t I call her now?”
“Goodbye, Ryan,” I say, disconnecting the call.
Pocketing my phone, I continue to the exit. It’s a pity Ryan and I are enemies. In different circumstances, I would’ve respected him. Liked him even. He’s reliable and discreet, and he gets the job done. He’s got that classy vibe going, a certain panache that well-educated men of his status possess. Not rough around the edges and uncivilized like me. The logical side of me can’t blame Benjamin Edwards for never wanting his precious daughter to marry me. Even I hate myself most of the time. It’s difficult to like someone who has no redeeming qualities.
Outside in the crisp, cold air, I dial Heidi. “How did it go?”
“She’s safely in the new house.”
I hesitate, not sure how to phrase the question and not sure why I care. “Did she like it?”
“She loved it. As always, Fabien did a great job. I think he’s a little smitten with Sabella.”
Even though I know he prefers men, that phrase fucks with my head. “I think I’ll fire him.” Or better yet, kill him.
She laughs. “Then you’ll have to fire me too.”
Not sure what to make of that, I scoff. “Don’t make my wife out to be an angel. Fabien just loves anything that’s beautiful. Correction—Fabien only loves beautiful things.”
“Yes, well,” she says with a haughty tone, “some people are blessed with external as well as internal beauty.”
Not in the mood for a lecture, I tell her in a gruff voice, “I’ll be home late tomorrow. You don’t have to prepare dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
I end the call.
It strikes me then how much I’m looking forward to going home. I’ve never felt the pull this strongly, not when my family was alive and even less after their deaths.
It must be the prospect of laying claim to my wife’s sweet pussy. Of wanking off in her perfect body. Of using her for only as long as my cock stays hard. It can’t be wanting to spend time with her. I resent her way too much to crave the pleasure of her company.
Chapter
Eleven
