"You shouldn't have Belle here. That’s a disaster waiting to happen," Luca warned me for what had to be the millionth time.
"Belle knows if she utters another word of bullshit to my wife, I'll cut her tongue out." I didn't want to kill her unless I was left with no other options. She was desperate to take Morgana's place.
While it would remove a huge amount of stress to have a stable woman taking over everything Morgana should have, I couldn't replace her.
I'd gotten email after email of people wondering why she hadn't been introduced into to the 'inner circle,’ why the mistress of my establishment seemed to be a phantom. There was no fucking way she was ready for any of it.
I kept my hands clasped in my lap, staring over the deck railing at the tall trees that swayed in the autumn breeze.
Gia, some form of help that sucked at her job, sat in the chair opposite of mine. She thought I was back to normal, that I was fine.
Further proof she sucked at her line of work. She smiled over at me, her green eyes sparkling with a joy I couldn't relate to.
I envisioned her dying in a multitude of ways. If I asked Julian, I knew he'd kill her for me. I knew if I asked for something, he would acquire it with no questions asked. If I wanted him to hurt me, he would do it happily. If I was his obedient little doll, everything was perfect.
A solid month alone with a mind that had no reason to be trusted gave me some clarity on things. Julian loved me in the only way he knew how to love. I loved him when I should hate him for the way he came in and destroyed my life.
Killed my friends.
Strung me along with lies.
And had zero remorse for any of it.
But here I was, still astride the merry go round of a thing I called life.
The exact moment he stepped onto the deck, my head turned towards him.
Dressed as he always was, looking as good as ever, it felt like only days had passed instead of a month. He studied me, taking in my appearance. Seeing what no one else could.
Gia had her eyes trained on him as if I no longer existed. He ignored her, coming straight to me.
"You can go; your services are no longer needed." He knelt in front of me, resting his hands on top of mine. "Now," he snapped when she remained seated.
Like a frightened little mouse, she scrambled out of her chair and darted around the side of the house.
Without asking, he pulled my dress up to see if I had any new marks, an unreadable expression on his face when he saw I'd only been tracing over his name.
"She helped me." In a sense, she did. Because of her constant nagging, I had pulled myself out of bed almost every day. I even stopped feeling sorry for myself.
"You gained some weight. It looks...good on you." He stroked my cheek with his fingertips.
I refrained from squeezing my thighs together, reaching out to run my hands through his midnight hair. "I know she didn't help you. Only I can. I'm what you've needed from the first time I made you feel pain. I gave you your space, Morgana. Twice. You won't be away from me ever again."
I surprised him, grabbing hold of his face and pressing my lips to his. A small kiss turned into something feverish. I pulled him closer, causing our teeth to clash.
This wasn't how this was meant to go; we were supposed to be talking about everything that had transpired between us. He was supposed to be giving me the answers I'd been after for so long.
"Julian." Pulling away from him, sucking on my lower lip, I placed my hands on his chest and tried to push him away.
"Let's go inside." He took my hand, helping me stand and leading me through the sliding back door. The guesthouse was a decent size, cozy and homey. Unlike the Chateau.
I sat on the pigeon gray loveseat; Julian sat on the matching armchair.
"Why don't you tell me what you do know." He rested his elbows on his knees and watched me.
"I know your mother went to school with mine, and there was a woman named Lacy Tidwell that looks disturbingly like me. I know my father isn’t who I thought he was.” I shrugged. "All I know is bits and pieces of information. No one wants to tell me the truth. That's all I want."
He rubbed his chin, no doubt contemplating how much he wanted to tell me, and what he didn't expect me to know.
"It seems to me you've already figured it out."
"After everything I just said to you, your conclusion is that I have it figured out?"
"It seems like it. I think the most important answer is that you now know your family is worthless.”
I rocked back and stared him down.
“You said you would give me answers. Stop feeding me tidbits of bullshit! I'm not going back to that hellhole you call a home."
The Dahlia was like a private island. Only those with malignant minds could visit. It sat alone, secluded from everything else. The perfect outer shell hid the ugliness that resided within. I hated it.
I couldn't allow myself to be sucked back into his vortex. It was hard to straddle the fence between enabling my husband to do the sick things he did and trying to stand alone on the other side and change him.
"That is our home." He turned around and faced me.
"I...we can't keep living like that, Julian. You can't keep killing people and thinking everything is okay afterward."
"Has the world stopped turning? Is poverty no longer an issue? Did someone cure cancer? Because what I do inside our home isn't making a difference in anyone else's. No one misses these people once they're gone.”
A resigned sadness settled in my bones. I hated the back and forth limbo we were constantly stuck in.
There was no escaping the depravity that was part of each of us. Guilt lashed at my chest every time I thought about the innocent life we may have tainted.
"It isn't just us anymore, Julian," I stated quietly, running my fingers through my hair. He remained silent. When my words sunk in, his eyes went to my stomach as if he had x-ray vision.
I didn't blame him for not knowing. There wasn't any morning sickness or overwhelming nausea. My body had had minimum changes, aside from a small amount of weight gain, and we'd been apart for the past month.
"How long have you known?"
"Since the first time I left."
He stalked towards me and wrapped his arms around me. His calmness was worse than him yelling.
"Lacy Tidwell was an unstable whore our fathers’ used to fuck. Let's hope her daughter doesn't end up like she did."
Chapter Forty-Three
She demanded answers when she had secrets of her own. Hypocritical fucking bitch.
Why had she kept something this crucial so silent? She’d yet to be any type of physician.
Had she been someone I didn’t care for; I would have already punished her.
As things were, it was impossible to string her up and tear the flesh from her body, because I needed her to live. Holding her head down and waterboarding her was out of the question because she was pregnant.
My warning threat was real, however. I didn't want her to end up like Lacy, but my father's patience was worn thin, and mine was gone.
She squeaked in pain as I crushed her hand in mine, hearing the bones grate together. It was the least she could do for me. I was so worried about her all the time; I was losing focus of why this all started.
Phillip was meant to die, and the Sanchez family would be eliminated from the Chateau. We could expand without cleaning up his messes, and Morgana would inherit all he and his slut of a wife had a stake in.
Her being heir wasn't an issue; I already had a lawyer ready to draw up paperwork that gave me power of attorney. It was why she was so perfect. I had not one but two forged medical reports about her mental state.
Morgana stumbled, trying to keep up with my brisk pace. Letting go of her hand, I turned around and grabbed her by the arms. She gasped in surprise, her round eyes looking up into mine.
Tugging her off the worn path that lead back to the main house, I backed her against a
tree.
She was a cancerous tumor growing on my brain. She wasn't supposed to matter this much. The pawn had become the queen without realizing it. I adored her just the way she was. My need to feed her addiction and hook her on me even further couldn't be helped.
Tearing her thong away from her, I hoisted her up, shoving her back into the bark. She told me to stop. I ignored her, grinding my cock against her pussy, feeling how wet she was.
"Julian, no...oh." Her protest ended in a moan when I eased two fingers into her perfect cunt, pushing until my second knuckle disappeared.
Taking my thumb, I circled her clit, continuing to pump in and out of her sopping pussy. She clung to me, moaning, burying her face in the crook of my neck to silence her soft cries.
I inhaled her warm vanilla scent, needing to be inside her.
Pulling my fingers away, I made quick work of my pants, slamming inside her the second my dick was lined up with her slit. She cried out, grabbing at me in any way she could.
The harder I fucked her, the more my anger ebbed. "You are the only thing that makes me crazy," I growled in her ear.
She hissed from the tree digging into her smooth skin, moaning with abandon, neither of us caring who heard or saw us. Her hands grabbed my face; forcing our mouths to collide in a brutal, carnal frenzy.
I sucked on her tongue, biting down and making sure it hurt.
"Do you like the way I fuck you, Dollface?" When she didn't answer me, I ground my dick into her g-spot.
"Y...Yes. Jules!" I wasn't sure if she was answering me or crying out from coming.
Her pussy tightened. I felt her entire body go taut. My balls slapped almost painfully against her slick skin, and she rained kisses on my face as I continued to fuck her, pushing her into another climax as I found my own.
She cradled my head, her body still trembling in my hands.
As we held one another, that’s when the news sank all the way in.
I was going to be a father.
Chapter Forty-Four
Things had been relatively quiet the past two weeks. Julian made me see a doctor, or rather, he made a doctor come visit me.
Every morning, he made sure I ate and took the disgusting, large prenatal before going off and doing whatever it was he did all day. He was overly attentive in that regard.
But things were different with him.
I couldn't put my finger on it. Every night and every morning, he was inside me.
Nothing about our sex life had gotten gentle—if anything, it had gotten worse Something was still off, though.
I stared at the bruises around my neck that I couldn't hide. Between my legs was so sore it hurt to walk. It seemed the only thing between us was depraved sex, leaving me stuck in a constant state of melancholy.
What happened when he tired of me completely? Sitting on the library settee with my legs curled beneath me, I stared absentmindedly into the fireplace flames.
The innocent baby inside me was the only thing that had me determined to keep going, because truthfully, I was so tired. My life was a never-ending storm of chaos, one psycho after another, each swearing they were sane. Each using me for their own gain in a sick, twisted game.
From somewhere off in the house, a bell chimed, signaling it was time for dinner. Julian had insisted this one would be much better than the last. "
When I stepped into the dining room, just like last time, I froze. For an entirely different reason. Phillip rose from his chair, smoothing a hand down his cornflower shirt. The last time I saw my 'father,' he was brutalizing my sister.
His eyes went to the slight bump that was my stomach, causing me to shield it involuntarily.
I wasn't sure what this new tactic was, what angle Julian was playing, but I hated it. Phillip was a sick man I had no desire to see again. Julian's hand landed on the small of my back as he entered the room and stepped up beside me.
"Breathe. You wanted answers. If he upsets you, this won't end well for him," he whispered in my ear. His navy suit was pressed, flawless. He looked delectable. As if reading my mind, he gave me a sly, dimpled grin. Once we were all seated and dinner was served, a pregnant silence surrounded the table.
"I'm sure you have questions," Phillip began, fiddling with his fork. "No matter what, you are my daughter."
"Why don't you tell me about my real mother? About Penny. And why I'm here, since he can't." I jerked my thumb in Julian's direction, purposely avoiding his gaze.
"I'm not sure how much he's already told you. Lacy fooled around with his father, Gareth, and me for a good year. She saw something here she shouldn't have. And, well, I guess you can figure out what happened to her after that," he somberly explained.
"You guys killed her," I mumbled to myself. "So, where do I come into this?" Sipping my water, I waited for his answer.
"I don't know what you mean. After Lacy's death, it seemed like the perfect fix to take you in. Your mother and I had already adopted Penny, and we couldn't have children. As for the situation here, Julian was interested in you, and we needed someone to—"
" Penny was still your daughter, blood or not. How could you do that to her?" I watched his face go through a varying change of emotions.
"I forgot to tell you she knows about that," Julian shrugged, sipping his wine.
He remained quiet, watching the whole shebang with a skewed smirk on his face. The twisted bastard loved wreaking havoc for his own entertainment.
"I...I'm not sure what to say. We were told how to condition you...by outside sources." Condition me?
"I'm not sure what you saw, but everything with Penny was consensual up until..."
"You killed her?" The idea that a man who raised a little girl as his own had no qualms sleeping with her made my stomach curdle. I shoved my plate of garlic chicken away.
"I told you this would happen," he growled, turning his attention to Julian. "She can't be whatever it is you were searching for. All of this was for nothing; she isn't ever going to understand any of it. I gave you my daughter, and you fucked me!"
Glancing between them, it dawned on me that there was still a game being played, and I was the only one not knowing where the pieces were.
My head felt like it was going to explode; I could never keep up with what was happening around me. "I'm not doing whatever this is anymore." Pushing away from the table, not bothering to look back, I stormed out of the room with one specific destination.
I locked myself in the bathroom, gripping the steak knife in my hand. I hadn't realized I had it until it was too late to put it back.
"Morgana," Julian called from the other side of the door, trying to turn the handle.
I ignored him.
He sighed and a split second later, the wood cracked as the door was kicked in. And what did I do? I laughed—and didn't stop until I could barely breathe, and tears were streaming down my face. Julian remained in the doorway, looking adorably confused.
"Here." I slid the knife across the dark marble floor, then leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "I'm tired.”
Chapter Forty-Five
It took me five minutes to pretend Phillip had played his role with an Oscar-worthy performance. Another five to drag the man's body into the same room Penny had been in and tie him down after I knocked him out.
Winded, I ran across the house to my bedroom to make sure my wife wasn't slitting her wrists.
I'd had a long day; all I wanted was a joint and a stiff drink. The universe clearly had other ideas. Stepping over the steak knife, I loosened my tie and sat on the floor opposite Morgana.
When she said she was tired, I was aware it wasn't in regard to sleep. Words of comfort and pretty lies failed to come to me. If I was being honest, I was tired as well. I'd begun to wonder how she was going to be a mother when she couldn't be trusted on her own.
It took a long talk with my father to get me back on track. Was I tired of her? No, that would never happen. But I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to do everyth
ing I'd ever imagined doing to her in the Red Rooms. This was a good indication as to why I'd never had a real long-term relationship.
I’d killed for the first time when I was thirteen. To celebrate my birthday, my father brought me a whore he’d used on more than one occasion. He told me to do whatever I wanted with her, but not to let her leave. She ended up dead, just like he wanted.
My father had realized very early on that I was a boy after his own heart. He molded me into the way I was today, ensuring whatever I wanted was at my disposal.
Women, money, and other luxuries no normal young adolescent should have access to.
I didn't think much of it. I'd gotten laid, and I was turning into what my father wanted me to be. Lacy was a sweet woman, but as I said, she was a whore.
That was where my obsession with Morgana came from.
Her mother was the first woman I killed.
She could be her twin, only sexier, and much more stable than Lacy was. I often battled with myself on whether to tell her any of this.
"Hey, did you know I fucked your mother? Sewed her eyelids open, broke her left leg (this wasn't intentional) and watched her die a slow, steady death as I took her again? If that makes you uncomfortable, my father helped me fold her up inside a water barrel to decompose." It wasn't exactly bedroom chat.
"Please don't let him see me again," Morgana sighed, bringing my attention back to her.
"He won't ever be coming back here again." Because I'm going to kill him. S
he rested her head on the stairs of the jacuzzi tub. One hand cradled her small bump—our baby. The other was beneath her. I knew she felt me pulling away, but it was solely for her safety. This was all new to me.
"You're a psychopath." She lifted her head and looked at me. I chuckled, not surprised she'd think that.
"I can't be a psychopath."
"Why not?"
"Because love you." Scooting around so I was beside her, I pulled her into my arms.
"Crazy people think they're in love, too," she said into my chest.
Malice (Dahlia Saga Book 1) Page 15
