She arched against me, a sultry moan sliding from her mouth. I began to pump inside her, rocking myself in and out; going deeper, thrusting harder. I wrapped one hand around her throat, bracing myself above her with the other. Her nails clawed at my back. Her pussy drenching my cock down to my balls.
"Hate me, Rebel. I need you to hate me," I growled.
"Fuck you; I can’t."
I felt—watched—her come apart beneath me. Leaning low, I buried my face in her neck, forcing myself not to follow.
She held onto me, threading her fingers through my hair. Her soft mewling, the feel of her wrapped around me, and her hands grabbing at me to pull me deeper had me losing any small semblance of self-control. I choked her hard, riding her body and finding my own release.
When I felt the dampness on my shoulder, I pulled her into my arms and let her cry it all out, willing her to be strong for just a little longer.
Our situation wasn’t conventional. Fuck, it was toxic, and like an addict, I couldn’t fathom giving it up. I needed her to be here, always. She was the perfect fit for me. There was a thin line between love and obsession, and she’d had me walking it since she was seventeen years old.
The worst of things were almost over, and when it was, I would spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The next four days passed in a repetitive cycle.
Pierce disappeared for large hours at a time, always coming back and using my body until early morning. I was beginning to wonder if the man ever slept. If he did, I was always too gone in my own slumber to notice. Besides our animalistic sex, we never talked.
I was beginning to feel like a mindless vessel, just there for him to play with when the mood struck. Being stuck inside the house was starting to drive me mad. I knew he needed me for something, but I drew a blank every time I thought about what it could be. I needed answers, and spreading my legs for him was not the way to get them.
That’s how I ended up sitting at the dining room table until three in the morning. My eyes were heavy; I was bored out of my mind. When I heard him enter the house, my hand with the pen in it froze over my Sudoku book.
"You know, some people get off on hurting other people. On watching them suffer. Building them up just to tear them down." Classic Pierce style, he couldn't just give me a standard greeting.
"Is that what you're doing to me?" I eyed him warily. He looked more relaxed than I’d seen in a while.
"Sometimes. I don't get off on it, though. I just want you to hurt. For some reason it makes you cling to me a little stronger. It's more of a control thing. Haven't you noticed how much more agreeable you are? The only time you open your mouth is to scream my name."
He removed his tie and started towards me. I held my posture even though I felt like slumping to the floor. I should have never grown attached to the twisted bastard. Not that I had a choice in that matter. Purely hating him was much easier said than done.
The only person I had to talk to was him. When I shared a meal with someone, it was him. Sleeping, sex, arguments, and even small moments of laughter were all with him. He forced me to have tunnel vision. Nothing else was visible in my head. I felt like an addict always needing a fix.
Even as I wanted answers—needed answers—my body ached for him.
My mind longed to hear all the fucked up things he had to say. This was disturbing on a psychological level. I was the girl who didn't need anyone and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t live without him. I didn’t understand.
"Is that...blood?" I asked in alarm. He glanced down at himself, looking back up with a half grin on his face.
"I guess things got a little messy. Some people aren't always...agreeable." He eyed me on the last word.
My fingers curled around the pen to the point of pain. He was such an asshole.
"When I look at you, I wonder if I'd still fuck you if we were brother and sister. Guess we'll never know. I need to shower." He headed for the stairs, leaving me to dissect his new riddle. Brother and sister?
"I expect you to be waiting for me when I get out," he called from the top of the stairs.
On a whim, I tossed my pen down and headed for the front door. I attempted to fling it open, even though there were two suited men outside and the security light was flashing. It was almost laughable because I knew better.
My eyes popped open at the sound of Pierce's voice. I must have after fallen asleep on the sofa. Pierce had me in his arms, cradled against his chest, and we were halfway to the bedroom.
"Have you?" he asked.
“Have I what?”I grumbled, not fully awake.
“You’ve heard of something called OMR?”
"I don’t know what means, but I've heard about it from you...I think," I added, unsure if it was from him directly or from my eavesdropping.
"It’s made up of old money families; a few years back they brought in new money. Things started to fall apart when men like my father, your real father, and Seth took positions of power they should have never been given.”
As I woke a little more what he was talking about started to ring as familiar. “I thought that was a myth?”
“So did I. Turns out, they just like being discreet. I was lucky enough to be brought into that inner circle.”
“And?”
“We're purging out all the weak links, all the failing corporate companies, the weak business fronts, and the families that threaten to ruin what many have worked for. Taking back control, in so many words."
"You want power…” I mumbled, finally waking up fully.
"I already have that. This is a business arrangement. I scratch their backs, they scratch mine. It's how all the partnerships work. The men I deal with…we are each significantly connected."
"What does that have to do with me?" I pushed up on my elbows after he laid me on the bed.
"In regards to me? Everything." He didn't elaborate.
Instead, he dropped the towel from his waist and climbed into bed beside me. Surprisingly, he didn't touch me. I stared up at the dark ceiling, trying to piece all of what he had told me together.
"Does it bother you that I kill people?" Pierce asked suddenly.
What a change of topic. I narrowed my brows in contemplation. Did it bother me?
No. If it did, I'd have flipped shit when Jason was killed right in front of me. When he came home far more than once with blood on him, and sometimes bruised knuckles. I told him as much.
"I wanted to keep you separate from all of this. Leave you some small act of kindness. You don't need to witness everything I have, deal with the shit I deal with. And it pisses me off, because you should."
I rolled onto my side, poking him in the chest. "I don't know why you keep blaming me for my sister’s death. I didn't slit her throat. I didn't tell her to make the choices she did, and I never told her to start messing around with you. How do you know it's not your fault?
“Do you know how tired I am of this back and forth bullshit? Tell me what it is you want from me because I don't understand."
He made a sound in his throat, a sound of annoyance and his own frustration. Before I could make another remark, he was above me. My hands were pinned above my head, and my body was swallowed by his. Even in the dark, I could see the anger in his eyes. His tone sent goosepimples racing across my skin and his venomous words slashed at my crippled heart.
"It was supposed to be you that night. We all thought it would be you—the young girl who had always been forgotten and shoved into the background. Who the fuck would miss her? I had your sister eating out of the palm of my hand. She wasn't supposed to mean anything to me. She did.
“Everything went to shit because your mother was a stupid whore who let men breeze through her pussy like it was a truck stop. Cassie had to go. I couldn't do anything about it. Sometimes you make me forget what I had with her, and I hate that.”
I tried to cut him off but he spoke over me.
&n
bsp; "You're mouthy, stubborn, and constantly trying to piss me off. I don't want to like you, Rebel, but I love the shit out of you and it pisses me off. Emotions make you weak. They fuck up your judgment and cause people to make rash decisions. This life isn't one where I can afford to let that happen." He glared down at me.
I was speechless for once. Angry. Hurt. Turned on. I wanted to shove him away but he had my hands pinned.
"You're...arg! Let go of me."
He laughed, a full blown.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"I can see you breaking, and this is the only thing I can do to help you. Hate me. I don't deserve you. It's better for you to hate me than to try and love me."
"You stupid fucker; it's too late for that." I loathed crying.
It always made me feel weak, but I couldn't stop the dam from bursting no matter how hard I fought to keep it together.
He kissed my tear stained cheeks, using his body instead of words. We simply couldn't be anything other than what we were. This was the consequence for consuming something forbidden.
He was my consequence.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Holy shit.
He loved me.
The thought didn't hit until two days later. I was lounging in the sunroom, trying to do another Sudoku, when it rushed to the forefront of my mind. I was wondering why he'd been around the last two days, making me eat three meals a day, correcting my posture and telling me which silverware to use.
He also expected me to be in fancy dresses and slutty heels all the time. And there was no lounging comfortably in those outfits. I wondered if he had just said it to pull me further under his deceitful spell.
He hadn't said anything else about it, and he wasn't acting any different towards me. He was still being a pompous ass and burying himself inside me whenever he felt like it.
I was hung up on the fact that it was supposed to be me who died that night. It was supposed to be my neck that was slit from ear to ear, and not my sister's. Did he know Cassie was going to die? He made it seem like he did. If Pierce didn't have the communication skills of a caveman, we might actually get somewhere.
Sighing, I scrubbed my hands over my face and looked out the windows.
"Rebel." Pierce walked into the room carrying a glass of iced tea. He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and handed it to me.
"Thanks," I mumbled, taking a healthy swig.
"What?" I lowered the glass, eyeing him the same way he was eyeing me.
"You're beautiful."
"Right," I scoffed.
"Why do you think otherwise?" He looked at me like he already knew the answer. I looked away, not able to admit it aloud, and certainly not able to talk about it with him. I thought I was over what Richard had done to me and the sick way he’d ruined my body.
Somehow finding out he was my uncle and not some random man my mom decided to marry made it worse. It nauseated me, bringing back memories I thought were burned from my brain.
"Your mother loved you," he started. I went to object, but he cut me off and kept going, taking a seat on the wicker sofa. "In this life, it's not unusual for men to be away, working long hours, sometimes being gone for a day or two. When we come home, I guess the notion of a family gives us something to look forward to. Your father went back and found your mom fucking his brother.”
I already knew my mother was a whore, but I kept quiet and let him continue.
"My mother was a sweet woman. She raised two boys and cared for my dad's bastard—my baby sister—as her own. She wasn't meant for this life. I loved her, but fuck, was she weak. And everyone knew it. Dear old Dad no longer hid his affairs, disrespecting her whenever he had the chance. Imagine how surprised he was when he came home to your father fucking my mother in their bed.” He paused, staring out the windows as if picturing the scene in front of him.
An ice cube lodged in my throat, I remained mute, taking it all in. With just that bit of information, I began to have a semblance of understanding as to what had happened. I waited for him to continue, needed him to.
"Our mothers were best friends, our fathers as close as two men dare to get in this life. It all had a domino effect. My dad let yours live but only because he had a bigger plan: to take everything Lou had. Clients, money, and his daughter." He gave me a pointed look. "That fell apart, too. I remember in the middle of the night, he said he needed me. There was a woman down on her knees, crying and beaten. He told me to put a bullet in the back of her head. I didn't question him. I just did it.
I had plans of my own to knock my father down a few pegs."
"And you were going to use Cassie," I added absentmindedly.
"At first. Then, I got to know her. The sober her. The night she died, I got a call. See, no one even knew about you until you got a little older. Your mother had hidden you away. My father started sleeping with her and found out who you were, and began paying her to sleep with Richard to get information on your dad. It was a ‘keep your friends close and enemies closer’ kind of thing. He told me everything, thinking he could trust me."
"And you cut his heart out, so clearly that was a bad idea. What does any of this have to do with me?" Setting my glass on the side table, I looked to him for the remaining answers.
He stood back up and looked down at me.
"We were all fucking someone over and using each other to get what we wanted.” He expelled a deep breath, running a hand over his mouth. “Your mother thought Richard would love her. Your father took advantage of my mom, blind to the fact she was just like yours. My father...well, he orchestrated the entire thing. No one accounted for your sister being a junkie who started screwing her dealer and telling him everything.
I trusted her. My father died, and I moved forward with his plan. And that's where you came in.
"I couldn't figure out who you were at first. It should have been easy; you look just like your dad. Your mom tried to pass you off as Richard’s. I needed his daughter and it was discovered Cassie wasn't the girl we thought he had. You were. She became expendable. She told Seth, and he killed her and took you. That brought me all the way into it. I could no longer watch from the sidelines. I found out a few more vital pieces of information and failed to kill him. I won't make the same mistake twice."
Was he referring to trusting me? Killing Seth? Both?
This was all so screwed up. We both came from corrupted families; the problem was that his wanted to destroy mine. And they had. He had. There was nothing left of my family but me...and my father.
"What is it he has everyone wants?"
“Just you. He’d been wiring Seth money to keep you safe. When he found out his real intentions, he contacted me. Let's just say the news of our engagement traveled fast, and he isn't pleased. Your father wanted me to keep you safe, still trusting the wrong people.”
I felt a million different emotions at once, but anger was in the lead. Standing from the chair, I faced off with him.
"Did anyone consider that I'm a human being and not a game piece? That I want more out of life than to be someone's pawn!" I was a glutton for punishment. A stitched breath rattled my chest. Tears burned in my eyes; I tried to hold them back but a few strays escaped. When did this end? When would I no longer be yanked back and forth in this game of his?
"And what do you want? Revenge? His money?"
"I want a lot of things," he answered, not responding to anything else I had just said. "Right now, I need to go handle a few things before all hell breaks loose."
He kissed my cheek and then my forehead before walking back inside the house. He’d given me a handful of answers that each came with their own questions, keeping me in a constant state of unknown.
This had to stop. I had to take control of my life back.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I had told her more than I ever thought I would. What I didn’t tell her was that it was her father who had made a colossal fuck up and killed my baby sister.
A c
ar crash he’d set up turned her into a brain-dead corpse. She was so young and innocent, born into a life she had no choices in—just like Willow.
But she didn’t need to know that. She knew enough.
It had been five days since I'd been home. I'd only gone back to take care of a special package with the help of my brother and cousin.
Everything had come down to this. There hadn’t been any room for error. I had men with families loyal to me and relying on me to come through, and now I had Willow.
"I told you it was a bad idea to fall for this girl," Enrique muttered from beside me.
The glare I gave him had his hands shooting up in defense. Of course, the motherfucker was right. I wasn't supposed to fall for my charge. Truthfully, I hadn't thought that was even possible.
Emotions. Love. The disease was given to humans by the devil himself. A disease people fought over, died over, and made too many fucked up decisions over. I didn’t think I was capable of it, not in the way most people were.
Obsession, however.
Well, that was another story entirely.
"Hey, I don't blame you. She's beautiful, strong, and doesn't put up with your shit. Not like..." my cousin's voice trailed off. I knew who he was referring to, and once again, he was right. Willow was so much different from Cassie. They were night and day.
"I want her for all the reasons I hate her." No one said anything. Not Enrique, Jax, or Tito. They all nursed their drinks and looked to the stage, where a brunette was twirling around upside down.
"You should stop this then, before—"
"I said I want her, not that I'm ready to throw everything away and say fuck securing our future. If we don't do this, she may not have a future. It's a bit of pain to reap the reward in the end. She's resilient; she'll be fine." Silence ensued once more. They all knew I was right. I didn't add what was already known.
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