The Devil's Daughter

by Ophelia Bell

  I feel like I need jewelry to have something there, especially because when I turn around, Baz’s eyes drop right to my breasts and he gives me a salacious grin.

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

  26

  Drake

  I don’t think I’ve ever known what true fear is until this moment. I was freaked out about the vague threat that was mailed to me, and the invasion of privacy that ensued when I refused to relinquish control of my company. Whoever’s behind the threats seems to be escalating, so I admit to being concerned about what will happen next, but I’m not scared.

  What I’m scared of is that Arturo Flores will somehow know I’ve been fucking his youngest daughter, and imagining the things he might do to me pales in comparison to any fear of my mysterious extortionist.

  But when I hear the unmistakable though muffled sound of pleasure come from the other room, I’m distracted enough not to care. My dick twitches, and I’m glad Severino is checking the line of my jacket at the moment, not my trousers. Did she wear the plug like I asked? If she did and Baz found out, maybe he’s already getting some benefit from it.

  But when he steps back into the room, his face is flushed, and the glare he directs my way is enough to know he didn’t get what he wanted out of the encounter. I can’t help but smirk. His eyes narrow.

  “You’re a fucking bastard, Stavros,” he says.

  “You found my surprise, I take it?”

  “Fucking tease,” he mutters, plopping down on the sofa nearby.

  Every other thought in my mind evaporates when Elle steps back into the room in the black dress. The garment was clearly made for her, because she is the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen, and she isn’t even completely done up. Her dark hair is a loose, windswept cascade around her tan shoulders, and she isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, but her cheeks are flushed and her eyes bright, looking for all the world like she just had an epic orgasm.

  “Fuck me,” I mutter. “Elle, that’s… wow.”

  She does a perfect little pirouette with arms held high, then bows like a proper ballerina, the dip offering a spectacular view of her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress. The little shimmy she makes when she rises is all I need to see to know she’s still stuffed with the plug, and it’s all I can do to maintain my dignity in front of my tailor. She breaks into laughter when she catches both me and Baz fixated on her plunging neckline.

  “So you guys are boob men. I get it now. No wonder my video broke your brains.”

  “You’re more than your pretty face and beautiful body, Elle. I hope you know that,” I say, face heating because it’s as if she read my filthy, broken mind.

  She arches an eyebrow at me and sweeps toward me in a rustle of expensive silk, taking hold of the lapels of the tuxedo jacket Severino just finished pinning. She looks up into my face, eyes narrowed.

  “I’m on to you, Stavros. You aren’t just a boob man, are you?”

  “Guilty,” I admit. Under my breath, I say, “Having fun?”

  “Yes, but I can’t say the same for Baz. This is supremely unfair to him.”

  “You’ll make it up to him, I’m sure.”

  Ines urges Elle up onto the coffee table so she can adjust the hem of the dress, then sends her back to change so she can make the necessary alterations. I follow her and Baz back into the dining room afterward, leaving my tailors to do what they need to do to our outfits.

  “We need to get our stories straight for Flores,” I say.

  Baz gives me a weary look. “It’s not going to matter. I recommend preparing yourself for the worst.”

  “It won’t be that bad,” Elle says. “And don’t listen to Baz’s horror stories.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Actually, I’d kind of like to know what I’m in for here.”

  Baz presses his lips together and hunches over his laptop. “It’s your funeral, hermano.”

  When I lift an eyebrow at Elle, she sighs. “Flores might have had a man murdered for messing with Celeste when she was younger. And before that, my brother Maddox learned firsthand how much Gustavo Delgado likes his brass knuckles when Papá Flores found out he and Celeste had been intimate. But in Arturo’s defense, she was underage at the time. I think Maddy was seventeen and she was thirteen when it started. He survived, and now he’s practically a permanent fixture at the Flores estate.”

  I wince. “Okay, I can see I need to tread carefully around him. If I don’t survive, at least I’ll know I died with honor and the love of a good woman.”

  “Celeste didn’t seem worried when I told her what was going on,” she says with a dismissive shrug, then turns back to her work.

  Baz slams his laptop shut and stares at her. “You told Celeste? Do you actually want us dead? Because this is how we die.”

  “She’s my sister!” Elle snaps. “And there’s a sister code. She won’t say a thing.”

  Baz’s nostrils flare and he glares daggers at her, but she doesn’t flinch.

  “Is that actually a thing?” I ask. “I was an only child, so the whole sibling dynamic is foreign to me.”

  Baz reluctantly nods. “It’s a thing for me and Ben, at least. And I know for a fact Celeste has known some of Toni’s secrets all along, and never said anything to either our parents or hers. But the old man just knows some things. I don’t think it’ll be that easy to hide.”

  “Then we’ll be honest,” I say. “Just enough of the truth is probably better than lying. We don’t need him to know we’re all sharing a bed though. Just that there are real feelings involved, and that we’re even more invested in keeping Elle safe because of those feelings.”

  It sounds reasonable, at least, and does the job of defusing the stand-off between the two of them, but it does nothing to settle the churning anxiety in my gut.

  No—anxiety is too benign a word. Pure and utter terror is what I’m actually feeling. Fear that Flores will decide I’m no longer worthy of watching over his youngest offspring, and that I’m disposable.

  It’s a longshot that he’d have me killed, or at least that’s what I tell myself. Typhon’s an asset to him, especially now that he knows we share the same principles. He and my father hadn’t done business in a decade, but he started using our company to move his black-market antiquities again after Dad died. I might have even gone so far as to say we’re friends, but now I’m not quite confident enough in that relationship to know for certain he wouldn’t inflict serious pain on me if he knew even half of the things I’d done with Elle.

  “I need to go let Chef know we’re having a dinner guest,” I say, and leave Elle and Baz to their work.

  27

  Ben

  “You did what?” I can’t believe my ears when Elle explains what happened while I was away. I’m in a tuxedo, being checked over by the tailor to make sure everything fits right. It does. Though I’m in danger of popping a button and hulking out over this news.

  Baz looks ill. Drake’s nowhere to be seen. I thought we’d have at least another day before we had to face our former boss—Elle’s father.

  “It’ll be okay,” she argues. “I bet he’s not even as scary as you two make him out to be.”

  “Elle, you don’t know the man the way we do. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”

  “But he’s also calculating and ruthless, and isn’t known for knee-jerk reactions. He always makes sure he’s well informed before he takes action. Not to mention, he’s making this trip to help Drake, not to check up on me.”

  “You don’t think that’s on his mind too? We didn’t call him the minute something was wrong.”

  “Because you don’t answer to him anymore,” she says. “And the cameras were about Drake, not me.”

  I sigh. “We’ve been over this. Everything we do is about your safety, Elle. Flores knows as well as we do. He’s going to punish us somehow, and once he actually sees us together, chances are it’ll be worse than it would’ve been if all we’d done is neglec
t to fill him in on your status.”

  She stubbornly clenches her jaw as I shed the tuxedo and hand it back to the tailor. He carefully bags up all four outfits and hangs them on a curtain rod. I thank them both as they begin packing up to have Duffy shuttle them back to the mainland.

  I need a shower and a change of clothes if I’m going to face Papá Flores for dinner, but Elle has dug her heels in and as much as I hate it, I know I won’t have any peace until I agree with her.

  The thing is, I’ve always loved pushing her buttons, getting her riled up just to see that wildness flare to the surface. I must be a fucking masochist to keep doing it now and I’m on the verge of saying something dumb when my twin catches me.

  “She gets it, brother. In her own way, she gets it. I think Drake had the right idea when he suggested we don’t bother trying to hide it. Maybe he’ll go easier on us if he’s aware of how we feel.”

  I’m skeptical, but I give in with a nod anyway, then join the pair of them as we head to our separate rooms to privately freak out while we get ready for dinner.

  A little later, I’m pacing the lounge in dress pants and a button-down dress shirt, trying to be chill while we wait for Flores to arrive. Baz sits on the leather sofa, staring blankly at his phone. Drake finally showed his face and poured us all drinks, but remains seated at the bar, staring out at the water without drinking. I took a sip, but my stomach’s too turbulent right now, and I really want a clear head for tonight.

  Elle appears a few minutes later in a flowery blue cocktail dress I haven’t seen before. It’s a far more conservative outfit than I usually see her in—very tailored and proper—and her hair and makeup are perfect. But her eyes are wide, and for the first time, it hits me that she might actually be scared too.

  “Ooh, let me have some of that,” she says, striding toward me and plucking the untouched Scotch from my hand to take a swallow. Her eyes water a little, and she lets out a soft belch as she hands the glass back.

  “What do you have to be nervous about? I thought you were sure we weren’t in any danger.”

  “I don’t think you are. That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified of what he thinks.”

  “That explains the dress. It’s not what I’d expect, and nothing like the snapshot Baz sent me of the dress you picked for tomorrow.”

  She looks down at herself, flaring the wide skirt with her hands. “Ines… the tailor… had this in their collection. She offered it when I told her I didn’t have anything decent to wear for a casual supper. I’d hoped for battle armor, but this was good enough. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how he doesn’t really know me. We’ve spent one Christmas together right after that whole ordeal with Mason, and I left for college a few months later. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea. I want him to like me.”

  “You want my honest opinion? I don’t think it would matter to him if you showed up in a burlap sack. You’re his daughter. You’re so important to him, he called in a favor from one of the richest men in the country to protect you. Try not to overthink this. He will probably kill the three of us by the end of the night, but you he’ll just pat on the cheek and say, ‘You’re beautiful, mija. Never change.’”

  She doesn’t look convinced, so I hand her my drink and she takes another sip.

  The sound of a speedboat approaching makes us all turn toward the island. Baz rises and Drake rushes out of the lounge, past the dining room and galley, and toward the stern of the boat. We follow, reaching the rear deck just as he heads down the steps to the bathing platform at the end of the lower deck.

  “Moment of truth,” Baz murmurs. “Kiss me, Elle.” He turns to her, and she gives him an astonished look.

  “Why?”

  “Because it might be my last chance.”

  “Oh, god. For the last time, he won’t hurt you guys. And I told you I’d make it up to you both after he’s gone.”

  “You already know you owe me big time,” Baz says just before she kisses him. He grips her hips with both hands, then lets out a groan as his hands roam south to squeeze her ass.

  She slips away to go stand at the rail overlooking the platform below, where the speedboat Arturo took from Catalina is docking. Evidently, he opted to fly himself out solo, taking the small plane he owns from the airport to the airstrip on the island, then a speedboat across the harbor to where we’re anchored.

  “What the hell was that about?” I ask in a low voice.

  “It’s a surprise,” Baz says, smirking at me before going to join Elle at the rail.

  I’m annoyed, but at least I’ve stopped fearing for my life, for the time being.

  My intrigue over Elle’s surprise disappears when Arturo climbs the steps up from the platform below. His wavy salt-and-pepper hair and goatee look freshly trimmed, and his cream-colored suit is immaculate. I’m relieved to note that he isn’t carrying his gun, either. His jacket hangs open, revealing nothing but his fit midsection beneath a sky-blue dress shirt when he reaches the top step. Drake is close behind, looking all business as the pair join us.

  “Papá, it’s so good to see you. Thank you for coming all this way,” Elle says, capturing his attention immediately and moving close for a hug.

  “Mija, it’s been too long. My fault for not making more time to spend with you. You’re doing well in school? How is the new internship working? Aside from all this nonsense.” He waves his hand at the boat, as if whatever threat we’re hiding from is no big deal.

  “I thought you kept tabs on me. Don’t you already know the answers to all that?” Despite her sweet tone, the challenge is evident, if not blatant.

  I brace myself, but Papá Flores just chuckles and pats her cheek. “You’re smart like your sisters, I will give you that. And I admit to keeping tabs on you for most of your life, but not lately. I’m trusting Drake and the twins to keep you safe now. I taught the twins everything they know.”

  She darts a quick look my way, smiling. “Well, they’re good at their jobs. But we’re at a loss right now. Can you help us? Do you know anything about who might be after Drake?”

  He waves a hand and looks at me, then turns to glance at Baz, who still leans against the rail behind him. “There will be time for that later. Right now, I think the twins and I need to have a talk. If you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” she says. She nods to Drake, who follows her back toward the lounge.

  Just before they disappear, Drake lifts his hand to the small of her back, and I look at Papá, gauging his reaction. He’s attentive, but I see no sign of dismay, only a tiny tightening around his eyes before he returns his gaze to me, his stare intense.

  Baz and I both remain still, waiting for him to make the first move. I hope I come off as standing my ground, even though inside I’m battling the flight instinct. Every part of me wants to disappear back into that bedroom with Drake, Elle, and my brother and never come out.

  “Do you want a drink?” I ask, deciding to make the first move, because fuck waiting. Maybe if he drinks a little, it’ll give me an advantage.

  “Scotch, if you have it,” he says.

  I nod and gesture to the breakfast table the four of us share each morning. “I’ll be right back.”

  In the lounge, Elle and Drake are seated a chaste distance apart. Elle holds a fizzy drink with a cherry floating at the top.

  “The man wants a drink,” I say by way of explanation.

  “The good stuff’s down below,” Drake says, gesturing at the bar. “His favorite is the Lagavulin. Take the bottle. Maybe if you get him wasted, he’ll go easy on us.”

  I chuckle and wink. “My thoughts exactly. You two staying sober too?”

  “One shot of whiskey was enough for me,” Elle says.

  “Yeah, for now anyway,” Drake says.

  “Mazel tov,” I say, lifting the bottle and grabbing three fresh glasses to carry back out to face my imminent doom.

  28

  Baz

  I remain at the rail, arms crossed
, while my brother retrieves a bottle of Scotch. Papá sits down and crosses one ankle over his opposite knee, regarding me.

  “Whose idea was it to come here?” he asks.

  “Drake’s.”

  He nods, appraising his surroundings. “Stavros has always had a good head on his shoulders. Unlike his father.”

  “You couldn’t keep his old man under your thumb, could you? What pissed you off more, that you couldn’t control him, or what he actually did?”

  His gaze hardens just as Ben returns with a bottle of Scotch. He pours a glass for each of us, then sits, sniffing his, but not drinking. Arturo takes a whiff and closes his eyes in enjoyment.

  “Gregor wouldn’t have offered me this, that’s for sure. His son has much better manners, and he’s kind to women. But you two are the bigger reason I came all the way out here tonight.”

  He drops his foot to the ground and sits up straighter, looking at us both. “Baltasar, please sit.”

  I begrudgingly oblige, parking myself in the chair and glaring at him. I pick up my glass and take a swallow, absently realizing that this is some good-ass whiskey, so I probably shouldn’t just pound it, as tempted as I am to dull the edge of my anger. On the plus side, he doesn’t seem to have caught on that anything’s going on with Elle—or if he has, it’s not his first priority.

  He looks between each of us, takes a drink, then nods as he says, “You two have a right to be upset with me. I had my reasons for keeping you in the dark, mostly because I didn’t believe it affected you. Antonia was the one who stood to suffer the most from knowing the truth, not either of you. But I didn’t consider that you might be hurt by the truth too. I’m sorry for that, and I beg your forgiveness.”

  I’m not sure what to say. His earnest, direct apology catches me off-guard, so I only nod.