“Some nerve she has coming in here after all this time, demanding things from us.” Logan huffs, now breaking his gaze to look at Christian and I.
“Oh, you know I agree. I have to admit I didn’t see this coming. Neither of you knew about the fact we’re related to the O’Deas?”
Logan shakes his head from left to right, “No, if I had maybe I could’ve avoided this whole ordeal. No matter, she thinks she’ll be working with us on this issue but she won’t. If our dear uncle really needs ammunitions, then I’ll contact him directly. Hell would have to freeze over before I do anything with that egg donor of a mother we have.”
“Hasn’t it already?” I ask, raising my brows. I slide my hands into the pockets of my trousers and don’t let up. Logan isn’t ready for what I’m about to say but there won’t ever be a good time.
“Excuse me?”
“Hell must’ve frozen over if you fired the one woman who did the job the way your picky ass required. Esme isn’t just an employee of the company, Logan, but you already know that. She’s family.”
“Family who shouldn’t have let you in here.” Logan snaps back.
“Oh, so I shouldn’t have come in to see mom here? That’s why you’re so angry?”
“We all know you have a soft spot for her. She was there for you when you were sick and I think you are more lenient to anything regarding our mother because of it. Hell, I hate her because of what she did to us. Christian doesn’t remember her . . . but you . . . deep down you want her to be something different than she is. Jordan, that’ll never happen. As you can see she’s a selfish bitch.”
“One who had three children and a marriage to fulfill a contract. Hot damn,” Christian mutters, letting out a whistle at the end of what he’s said.
“It’s the way of the world we live in,” Logan responds.
“And the one we work in. There are no written rules. We do as we please.” I speak up. This life has never been something Logan wanted to be involved in. In my opinion his heart will be the downfall if he doesn’t make changes soon. Our father is dead, which means he doesn’t have to keep running the business. He’s more than willing to let the old man turn over in his grave and hand the keys over to me. Logan can keep his focus on Steele Enterprises and handle the legitimate business. He’s the good twin after all. Obviously, I’m the bad one.
“Shit, I don’t want to say this but Jordan’s right. What you did a few minutes ago was a little much, even for you.” Christian agrees with me.
Logan darts his eyes between the two of us. “She shouldn’t have walked in here without double checking.”
“I don’t disagree with you there, but Esme is older and even you’ve said a few things have been slipping her mind as of recent.” I state.
Logan closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. “Fuck, I might’ve overreacted a bit. I was just so angry mom showed up after all this time, out of the fucking blue, wanting something from us.”
“Which is completely understandable,” Christian adds.
Logan rises from his seat and walks over to the door of his office. I follow him as he opens the door and walks up to Esme’s desk as she’s putting things in a box. From the corner of my eye I can see the two women at the receptionist’s desk staring and whispering about what must be going on over here. Hell, ten minutes haven’t even passed and the office rumor mill is already beginning.
Esme looks up from what she’s doing for a second, “Come to make sure I don’t steal something?”
“No, of course not. I . . . fuck, I’m sorry. I got really heated and I didn’t mean what I said. Please, forgive me?” Logan pleads with the older woman.
“Language, Logan!” Esme snaps back, rolling her eyes. I hear Christian snicker from behind me and about break my neck whipping it back around as she starts to speak again, “Christian, I’d love to take the position you offered me as a nanny.”
“You offered her a position!?” Logan hisses, turning back to our younger brother.
Christian ignores Logan and goes over to Esme, giving her a hug. “It’s not official. Think of it more like a grammy position. You help with your pseudo-grandkids and I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about anything financially. Given the amount of time you had here I don’t think you need to worry anyway, but nonetheless, you’ll be comfortable. I’m sure Logan can get your retirement paperwork started.”
“You snake,” Logan grunts, clenching his fists.
“It’s not my fault you acted a fool. Esme was about to retire anyway. You went and acted like an asshole, though. I simply played the right cards like I always do, dear brother.” Christian smirks, walking off back toward his office.
“He and I aren’t finished with our conversation,” Logan charges after him, leaving Esme and I alone.
I take the box from her hands and hold it while she continues putting in her knick-knacks and other odds and ends. She heads toward the lobby and ventures toward the elevator doors. I follow her, wait for it to arrive on our floor and ride down with her until we’re in the parking garage. We go up to her car and she pops the trunk, allowing me to put the box down.
“Have you checked on Lacey today?” I inquire, wanting a little bit more information if I can get it.
Esme narrows her eyes on me for a moment, “Yes, she said she wasn’t feeling the best but was better than yesterday. You seem to be very interested in how Lacey’s doing. Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
Fuck. She’s an observant old bat.
“You’ve known me long enough to know I won’t lie to you. Yeah, there’s something I haven’t told you, but I can’t tell you right now and I need you to respect that.”
Esme’s smile grows like a weed, “Fair enough, Jordan. I can only hope it’s what I think it is.”
“I can neither confirm nor deny such thoughts,” I chuckle.
“Understood. You know, soup is so good on the stomach when it’s upset. Regardless if it’s a virus or maybe just nerves.” Esme gives me a wink and unlocks the car door before she hops in. Well, damn. She just gave me a splendid idea.
Chapter Thirteen
Rewinding time is not possible, but “do-overs” are, sometimes we get another chance to do something right the second time that we got wrong the first time.
~Unknown
Lacey
What am I doing? Honestly. I’ve called out of work the past two days but headed into my office for my scheduled appointments last night. No one at Steele Enterprises knows about my other job, and I didn’t want to be sitting around all day. I don’t go back into my office until tomorrow evening, so I’ve spent all day watching romantic Hallmark movies, eating Ramen and drinking a bottle of champagne I’ve had in the fridge for the last few weeks. I don’t even know why I bought it, but hell, what better time than the present?
I’ve just finished my cup of instant noodles and go into the kitchen to discard the Styrofoam in the trash when I hear a rap on my front door, move out to the hallway and stare at the deep chocolate wood, thinking I’m suddenly hearing things. No one would have any reason to show up here today.
Oh fuck. Abuela! I rush over to the mirror in the hallway, run my hands through my hair and fluff it up, giving me a sense of bedhead. I don’t have any makeup on right now so I look a bit paler than usual. My outfit looks like something a sick person would wear to be comfortable around the house. Ugh, crap. Why did I have to tell her I had a stomach bug? Now I just need to continue my lie and pretend I’m an actress trying to win a Golden Globe.
The knocks are heavier on the door so I approach them, “Coming!” I shout to whomever is on the other side of it.
Placing my hand on the door I open it, having a nasty habit of not locking the deadbolt. My eyes immediately focus on the extravagant suit on the other side and slowly float up to Jordan’s mean mug. “You don’t lock your door?”
“I live in a safe neighborhood.” I grumble, crossing my arms. “What’re you doing here an
yway?”
He scoffs, “Safe neighborhoods are nothing but a fable. You’re really gonna ask the man who brought you Panera why he’s here? Esme said you were sick. Obviously, you’ve been calling in hooky. I fucking brought you soup because I was worried. Although, seeing the open bottle on your kitchen island I think you’re just fine.” Jordan shoves his way into my apartment, shuts the door and locks the deadbolt before heading up the hallway to the kitchen. He puts the paper bag on the island and picks up the champagne, smirking as he looks back to me.
“You celebrating something special?” He asks.
I shake my head, “No. Bought the bottle a few weeks back. Thought I’d savor the taste.”
Jordan picks up the bottle, brings the nose to his lips and I watch as the champagne passes through into his mouth. He sets the bottle back down on the island, “Ah, crisp and light.”
I cross my arms as I lean against the wall and watch him, “Never thought Mr. Jordan Steele would do something so classless as drink straight from the bottle.”
“Oh, please. I’m not the classy one. You’ve mistaken me for Logan I’m afraid.”
I let out a small chuckle at his crass joke.
Jordan’s eyes lock on mine, making me feel like everything else in the room has gone quiet. “Have you been avoiding me?”
“Yes,” I nod, being completely honest with him. There’s no reason for me to lie. I’m not a young, naïve woman anymore. I won’t play games with him and if he asks me a question, I’m going to give him an honest answer.
“Am I really that terrifying of a boss?”
“Boss? No. As a man, yes. You shake me to my core because of who you are. Jordan . . . I let down every wall with you the other night. I swore I’d never do it again, but I crashed and burned like I always do with you,” I close my eyes, suck in a deep breath and admit the ugly truth. “You make me question everything about myself. Whenever I’m close to you the darkness inside you suffocates me until I don’t recognize who I’m looking at in the mirror. Last time we went down this road I nearly lost sight of everything. I won’t do that again. I refuse to.”
His brows draw together as he takes a seat on the barstool, not wavering his eyes from my own. “What’re you talking about?”
“I . . .” I’m even more afraid to tell him what I did, or how I felt, or what I had them do to me. “Your . . . tastes are infectious, compromising my system like a plague. After that summer when we went our separate ways, I tried to bury the memory of you under other men. I found myself always pleading for them to wrap their hands around my throat and choke me the way you did. You were my drug, Jordan, and I was an addict.”
I’d been in a couple short term relationships but nothing ever stuck. At the end of the day they were never really what I wanted, only what looked good on paper. I dated the men who were charismatic, charming and successful. However, the one thing I wanted was a man with a sense of denseness that could only match my own. I’ll never admit this to Jordan, but I was a little afraid when we were younger because of our age gap. I was barely eighteen and he was . . . well, in his early thirties.
“I won’t sit here and keep repeating the same thing to you. I’ve said this once before and this will be the last time I repeat myself. I fucked up by letting you go. I could’ve responded to the lovely note you left for me, but I didn’t. There’s no way I can go back in the past and change that, however I can change our present and hopefully our future. I’ll be the first one to admit giving up on you has been my biggest regret. I think you know me well, Lace. I hope you know I’m not the type of man to make the same mistake again. It’s why I won’t be fucking this up. I’m not losing you. Not ever again.” Jordan stands up from his chair, approaches me and backs me up against the door. He yanks my pants down with one hand and wraps the other around my throat, tightening it to where I’m barely able to get a breath in. I rasp as I breathe, feeling heat flow throughout my entire body and close my eyes, reveling in the feeling of his touch.
The sound of his zipper being undone is the only thing that causes me to open my eyes again. I peer down and see his cock swollen and hard, precum seeping out. “Bunny, do you want me to fuck you like the little slut we know you are?”
There’s a small part of me that tells me to say no. To lie. To avoid Jordan Steele and everything that I crave about him. I’m sure my past is trying to keep me from the man who can wreck me more than anyone else . . . but I’m going to give in. I’ll let him rip me apart piece by piece if it comes down to it.
“Take me back, Sir.” I call him the only name I’ve ever called him. Others have pretended to be dominant, but they weren’t. They were only kinky fucks. Jordan Steele is nothing like them, even if he is a bit kinky.
He’s rough, rugged and demanding but at the same time can be slow, sensual and sweet.
Jordan lifts up my leg and shoves his cock inside me. My pussy practically ignites at adjusting to his massive size. His grip tightens even more around my neck to the point I can’t breathe, forcing me to look right at him. “You’re mine, Bunny. No one will ever have you again, and you’d better not run . . . or else.”
As he plows himself in and out of me, I can’t help but wonder what he means by his open threat. Surely he wouldn’t hurt me, but the thought of him doing this, fucking me while I can’t breathe only serves to excite me.
If anything this only proves one thing— I can’t keep fighting this anymore.
Chapter Fourteen
People who feel the need to control others, don’t have control over themselves
~TenAngles.com
Jordan
I woke up ten minutes ago to my phone going off. I was lucky that Lacey didn’t wake up and I was able to answer the phone before she did. Cal, one of the men who works for Reggie’s security company called me. I pay him to keep one of my secrets. More specifically, to keep watch over one of mine and notify me if there are any issues.
He was calling to let me know the thing he’s guarding is ill and getting worse. Cal told me he didn’t think it would survive the night so I’d best get over to where I have it stored and take a look for myself. Cal knows the history we have, the betrayal after trust was given and the harm that was done to my family.
I’m swift in my thought process and texted Lacey that I had a lovely time but a business issue came up I needed to go take care of, but that I’d see her at work. Hopefully she doesn’t get upset I left, but regardless I’ll be seeing her later today. Maybe if she’s a good girl I’ll fuck her on top of my desk. I’ve always wanted to do that. It’s typically a big no-no, but HR doesn’t need to know about my relationship with her.
I make my way out of her apartment, sure to grab one of the extra keys she has hanging on the other side of the wall before I leave and lock her deadbolt since she never does. It takes me a couple minutes to get to my car and head outside of the city. I can’t have my dirty little secret too close, so I keep it just out of arms-length. It’s better this way, especially if the authorities were ever to come looking.
It takes an hour to get there but everything is as it usually is. Secluded, quiet and dark. A row of trees cover both sides of the driveway, giving the illusion of a prestigious estate down the private driveway. Only, it simply isn’t the case here. At the end of the driveway is an almost completely fallen over farmhouse that was built back in the early nineteen-hundreds. A barn is on the eastern end of the property which is where I’ll be headed. It’s in a bit better shape, but not much.
I spot Cal’s SUV from a few hundred feet away and pull up beside it. He must not have left for the night yet. Hmm, odd. He only comes out here twice a day to check on things, so I wonder why he’s deciding to stick it out and stay here for longer.
I put my car into park, take the key out of the ignition and head inside. As soon as I’ve moved the barn door over to the right I lean down and grab the hatch for the trap door and walk down the steps, ensuring to close the door behind me.
If it
were possible, I’d say it seems darker than it did the last time I was here. I know it’s only my mind playing tricks on me as I continue down the narrow hallway and walk to the room at the end. Pieces of hay are scattered across the ground to pick up any moisture that comes in here from being underground and a low illumination comes out from under the doorway. I place my hand on the door and push it open, seeing Cal give me a look that tells me he thinks I should get the man some help.
The thing, man, or monster sits on the ground, holding onto his arm as he coughs repeatedly. Based on the color of the floor I’d say he’s been coughing up blood for a good while, but it could be red because of his arm as well.
It looks like he still hasn’t pulled off all the barbed wire I wrapped around him yesterday. “We should take him to a doctor. His breathing is becoming even shallower. Plus, look at his coloring.”
The man is white as a sheet and I can’t help but smile, knowing the man who killed my unborn niece and mutilated my little sister will soon meet his maker. Ever since that fucking day I’ve ensured he’s only felt one thing— suffering.
“Give me my knife,” I order Cal.
Instead of following my instruction he simply stares, acting like he didn’t hear a damn thing, or maybe he’s acting a fool. Regardless, it isn’t a good look for him. “You can’t be serious. Show the man some mercy, Jordan. He’s dying.”
Show Franco Falcone mercy? I don’t think so. “You mean the same mercy he showed my sister when he cut her hip to hip, ripping her child from her. That type of mercy?”
Cal instantly shuts his trap. He knows why I won’t show Franco one bit of kindness. He shouldn’t be forgetting what happened to his boss’s wife, my little sister . . . fuck. I feel like it’s all my fault in the first place.
Steele Her Heart: Steel Bros Book 4 Page 7
