"Okay, the house on Cactus," I say, fishing for more detail. I thought I'd been pretty clear with Nixon that day at the Mona Lisa. It will be a cold day in hell before I'll live with him in his mansion like a paid whore. I'll stay in touch with his brother but only because I'm madly in love with the little guy. Otherwise, I'm Hunter bound, and nothing's going to stop me outside of nuclear war. Not even my brother. By letting gambling own him, he's losing the three most important things in life. Time, money, and family.
"It's your house, Marcella," he suggests softly. "I need to know what you want me to do with it."
Do with it? It's not my house. I sigh and sit down on a chair in my kitchen, not believing my ears. "Why do you keep saying that? It's not my house, and I don't want it. I ripped up the contract that day in Dante's office, so just draw up a new one in Nixon's name. I'm not taking anything I didn't earn or deserve on my own merit. Especially, not something bought with dirty money!"
There's a long pause followed by a sigh. "Nixon warned me you were stubborn. Here's the deal. The paperwork was filed with Clark County before you ripped up the contract, so this is a done deal. You're the proud owner of a really nice house. The taxes and other bills have been paid for the next ten years. So, you can sell it and use the proceeds from the sale for your future, or you can hold on to it and live in it once you're done with college. Either way, you win."
I don't fucking win, asshole. I'm the season champion of the biggest loser. Because I lost everything that's important. My love, my virginity, but most of all, my self-respect.
None of this is Reagan's fault, so I struggle to remain calm when all I want to do is go off on him. The only thing he's guilty of is having a douche for an older brother. My broken heart throbs in my chest. I don't know what to do, what to say. All I want is to go into my bedroom, crawl into bed, and throw the covers over my head. But somehow, I know that my house will still be there when I get up. I have to face this head-on.
"What do you recommend? I mean, in your legal opinion?" Can't hurt to know his thoughts on what would be best for my future. He's a guy who managed to make it rain out of the eye of a familial shitstorm.
"Dante Giovanetti says he'll buy it from you for the same price Nixon paid for it. Apparently, he does some real estate investing on the side. If you meet him at his office today at three, he'll have all the paperwork ready to go. I'd recommend you just get it off your hands so you can move on with your life. Oh, and Marcella, get a good financial adviser. You're going to need one."
* * *
I can't believe that I have to deal with Dante again after everything that's happened. Between his greasy looks and the mental image of him whacking off, a revulsion churns in my gut. But after a great deal of thought, I decided to face the bastard a final time. I'll take his fucking check, and in that moment, it will be clear that he's never owned me, brand or not.
I valet because I want to be able to get the hell out of the Mona Lisa as quickly as possible with the Nixon Caldwell scholarship fund in hand. A small part of me believes my parents would be glad to see both men giving me the freedom to escape this town.
Upon entering the lobby, he's not waiting for me, so I ask the concierge for his location. "And you are?" the man asks.
"Marcella Castillo, we have an appointment at three."
He narrows his eyes and checks his computer screen. "I see. Mr. Giovanetti is in the Van Gogh room. Second floor, that way," he says, pointing toward a bank of elevators.
I punch the button, heart racing. Part of me wonders if I'm doing the right thing. The other part doesn't want even a snowball's chance in hell of being alone with Dante again. I'm afraid of what he's capable of doing to me. Once I exit the elevator, I look for wall signs pointing to the Van Gogh. Shit. It's all the way at the end of the hallway. Too damn far from the elevator or stairs if I need to make a run for it.
When I'm about ten yards away, a voice raised in anger stops me dead in my tracks. "You fucking killed her parents, you disgusting piece of shit. Just like you killed my father."
I shrink down as small as I can make myself and try to fade into the floral wallpaper, pressing my hand to my mouth to stifle the cry that wants to escape my mouth at this new knowledge.
"I did nothing of the sort, and I'll thank you not to disparage my good name inside my own establishment. Too bad your father died before he could teach you proper manners."
I rear back in shock and hit my skull against the hard wall as I hear what sounds like glassware crashing to the floor. I want to run, but at the same time, I want to hear the rest. Even if I willed my wobbling legs to move, they wouldn't. It's like someone poured plaster of Paris over my head, and I'm some kind of human mummy made of fear and suspense.
"I have proof right here, asshole. Right in my hand. Proof that's going to put your criminal ass behind bars."
"Now, now, whelp. Don't go raising your blood pressure. Wouldn't want to mar that pristine complexion with some mottled red. What would your whores say when they saw you? You think you're going to scare me with that empty flash drive."
Flash drive? Nixon has evidence?
"Everyone knows that Hawk is in your back pocket, and he's a master manipulator of anything tech. It's fake as shit, and you know it. You've got nothing. Besides, you already know that I have the entire Nevada Gaming Commission on my payroll. Wouldn't it stand to reason that I have the judicial system there, too? Who do you think funded the Clark County Prosecutor's election bid? Cost me millions, but it was so, so worth it. And everyone sitting on the criminal court bench. There's not even one of them who can't be bought."
"You unethical motherfucker!" Nixon growls. "You know what? I don't even give a shit. Because I know what you did. You know what you did. And now she's going to know what you did. She's all I care about anyway. And if you don't want this to go public, you'll leave me, my casino, and my family alone."
The bastard barks out a sharp laugh. "But I won't leave her alone. I'll never leave her alone. You might have stolen her virginity before I could take it, but you'll never take anything from me again. And you're going to pay for what you stole from me. She might have enjoyed your puny dick, but I bet she's still got one virgin hole left, and it's about time she learned from a real man. You'll hand her over with her legs and mouth open, or I'll destroy you and delight in seeing you fall to the ground brick by brick."
There were footsteps, then Nixon's deadly voice. "That will never happen. I made a mistake when I thought I could get her brother out of trouble, but I will never withhold anything from her ever again. I'll thank you not to talk about my future wife that way."
I hear a scoff and then a burst of maniacal laughter. "Your wife? You're forgetting something important, whelp. I own her. Just like I owned her parents. They'd never have gotten safely across the border and gainfully employed without me. And when they tried to leave me without paying their debt in full, I put them in the ground. And I'll do the same to her if she doesn't worship at the altar of my cock. Do you think I can't have her? Think the fuck again!"
Wave after wave of nausea flows over me, and I retch into my hand. Nothing comes up but bile. Since Nixon betrayed me, I haven't eaten much. But maybe he didn't really betray me. From what Dante's saying, in his warped way, he was trying to help Manny and me. He just didn't know how. My heart breaks all over again. But this time, it breaks for the parents I loved and lost through something that didn't have to happen. And it aches for Nixon, the man who tried to put all the pieces back together again.
I grab a tissue from my purse, clean up, and throw it back inside. I have to go in there before something happens we'll all regret. Nixon needs me. He's embroiled in the fight of his life, and I want and need to stand beside him. I slide my phone out and bring up the emergency button, just in case. If Dante does one fucking thing to threaten me, I'll push it.
"You killed my parents," I say from the doorway, and my voice isn't even shaking. It's calm. Dead ass calm. I spear Dante with a loo
k that says he better not fuck with me if he knows what's good for him.
"I'm not sure what you think you heard, little girl, but this is an adult conversation, and you were just leaving," Dante says, never taking his eyes off Nixon. He can't even humor me with eye contact after what he did. He's a despicable piece of shit.
I start to shake. With rage. With sorrow. With emotions I can't even explain or articulate because I've never felt them before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nixon move toward me, but I beg him with my mind to stand his ground. The last thing either of us needs is for Dante to sense a weakness that he can exploit. Better he think that I still hate Nixon with every fiber of my being. But the moment I found out what he did for me, we became a team unified by a shared future and a tortured past. And when we're together, anything is possible. Even bringing down the biggest piece of shit my hometown has ever seen. And there are four people looking down on us right now, supporting us, urging us forward. They need to be avenged.
"I know what I heard," I say, my voice rising on each syllable. "You disgust me. I will never belong to you." I touched my stomach. "No matter what you think. If you ever contact me again, I will not go to the authorities. I will go to the press. And they'll start digging and poking and prodding until they release the stench that surrounds you. That smell will become so unbearable, you'll gag yourself. So I'm only going to say this once. Never come near my brother or me again. Do you hear me?"
He stands and stares, not moving, not acknowledging. So I hold my phone up and threaten him with an unspoken move. He doesn't know who I might call, so he finally exhales and concedes defeat. Even before he speaks, I know I've won the battle.
Just as surely as I know the war will wage on.
"Yes, I heard you, but don't think this is over, little girl. Every single person who's stolen from me has lived to regret it. Man, woman, child, it doesn't matter. No one fucks with Dante Giovanetti and lives."
Chapter Twenty-Four – Nixon
My eyes must be deceiving me. I can't believe she's standing right in front of me. Close enough to touch. To treasure.
To love.
I almost say the words I've felt almost from the first time I saw her. But I can wait. First, I want to worship her body the Nixon way. The way I've wanted to ever since our ridiculous separation. There will be time for declarations for the rest of our lives.
With Marcella beside me, it feels like I've been reborn. Like we're creating something from the burned out ashes of what used to be before we met. Each of us leaving the torturous ghosts of our pasts behind so we can forge a future together.
"I can't believe we spent so much time apart," I say, reaching for her.
"I know. I think we both have stubborn streaks."
"Streaks?" I question with a tight laugh. "More like raging infernos of wanting to be right so bad it hurts swirling through our bodies. It will be something we'll need to be aware of and communicate the moment we realize it's happening. Because I want something from you, Marcella Castillo. More than your body, more than your heart, even more than your soul."
She looks at me through narrowed eyes, and I know she's wondering what I'm about to say. It's the ultimate promise, and it's all for her. "What more could there be?"
"I want forever."
She flings herself forward and into my arms. I stroke her hair, mumbling things about safety, protection, and respect. Marcella slides her hands alongside my jawline and presses her thumbs against my lips. "Those are man things, Nixon. They're great, but they're not what a woman wants to hear."
"They're not?" I can't even imagine how I would feel if I didn't get the respect I've earned and deserve. I make her wait it out a few more seconds before I hold her tight. After kissing her lips, I lift her up until her petite body is eye level with mine.
"I love you. I think I've loved you from the moment I saw you on my casino floor, all five foot two of feisty and pissed female perfection. I knew I had to have you. I've made some mistakes because I'm an idiot who's never been in love before. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to handle myself. What I can promise is that I'll try to do better this day and every day for the rest of our lives. Because you inspire me to be a better man."
Tears form in her expressive eyes, and in that moment, I realize that honesty will always be the best policy with this woman. I can be vulnerable with her and tell the truth because she's my safe place to fall.
She kisses me softly, her fingers running through my hair. "I love you, too, Nixon. So much. Now, show me how much you love me."
I growl and throw her back down on my bed before ripping her panties off in one yank. The rip of the fabric doesn't piss me off, it delights me. I'll just buy her some more. In fact, if I want to rip every single pair of underwear she owns off her body to expose her sweet pussy to my eyes and mouth, that's what I'll do. Because I can.
Gripping her thighs, I pull her to the edge of the bed and hold them open to my hungry gaze. She's mine. All fucking mine, and it's about time she knows it. I stare down at her exposed pussy, relishing the glistening wetness.
Her eyes are shut, but that's not acceptable. Not anymore. Even though she's still an innocent in so many ways, I can train her to be so much more.
"Look at me, Marcella," I demand, staring at her gorgeous face until her eyes flutter open. "I want you to know something. Really know it in the depths of your soul. Even though I'm glad I'm the only man you've ever been with, I wouldn't care if there had been a hundred before me. You belong to me. I'm going to be the first and the last man to ever touch you."
She doesn't even hesitate when she answers, "Yes."
I drop to my knees after her admission, leaning in and taking in the heat and scent of my woman. She's bare, and I want her to know how much I love it. She needs to keep it this way.
"I love that you have no hair," I say, rubbing my cheek against her.
"I like the way it feels." She squirms under my touch. "Like I have a secret that only two people will know about. Me and you."
"You're even perfect here," I say, placing a kiss on her inner thigh. "I can't find one flaw in your beauty."
Her hand moves to her stomach and she starts to protest, but I give a little swat to her leg. That's not acceptable, and it stops now. I'll never see a flaw on her body. Ever. Not after we're blessed with children. Not after we're old and gray. Someday, she'll believe me when I tell her she's perfection in my eyes. And I can start right now with the way I look at her. The way I touch her. She'll know.
Instead of telling her again, I just lean in and lick her with a slow and lazy swipe of my tongue. Her unique taste explodes in my mouth, and I savor it as her body jerks in response. My hands on her thighs tighten, digging into her tender flesh. I want her open to me. All of her. There's nothing she can hide from me. Not anymore.
"Nixon," she moans, writhing underneath the weight of my hands and mouth. I let her. I want her soft and hot at the same time. I want her begging.
My tongue picks up speed when I sense she's close, sliding across her swollen clit, dipping down and then back up again. I can't get enough of her. I want to taste every single crevice.
"Please…" she begs, her hips bucking upward, bringing her even closer. I latch on to her clit, sucking it into my mouth as she jerks, coming all over my lips. I take it all in, every single ounce of her release because I caused it. It's mine. Just like she is. And I'm not through.
I rain slow kisses on her thighs again, letting her recover. But only for a few seconds. Starting with those same slow, lazy licks, it doesn't take long until her passion builds again. Savoring her taste will become my heaven, and I can't get enough. I tease her until she begs again. Once I have what I want, I let her come, relishing the way her whole body jerks against my mouth.
As she comes down again, I hit the switch on the remote and send all the shades up, flooding the bedroom with light. I want her to see me. And if she thinks she's going to keep her eyes shut again, she won't get
away with it. She owns me, body and soul.
"What are you doing?" she asks, moving to cover herself.
I walk over to the bed, toss the remote on the nightstand, and grab both wrists, holding them above her head. "Keep them up there," I say, spearing her with my gaze the same way I'm about to spear her with my cock. "I want to see every inch of you, and I want you to see every inch of me. Nothing will ever stand between us again. Even the light. Because you've chased away all my darkness, Marcella. You can't even begin to know what that means."
I strip off every item of clothing I'm wearing in a rush and throw them in a pile on the floor. Under normal circumstances, I'd at least toss the designer garb on the back of a chair to avoid the dry cleaner, but I don't give a shit about anything else but Marcella. It's her and me and our love. Even rational thought isn't welcome now.
Her eyes move over my every muscle, and for the first time, I'm proud of my body and my efforts in my private gym. Before, working out was an inane task I forced myself to do, but Marcella's heated gaze makes every rep at high weights worthwhile. Hell, I might even increase the sessions with my trainer if she continues to look like she wants to devour me. I raise my eyebrows when her eyes fall on my stiff cock.
"Is that for me?" she teases, her eyes softening into deep chocolate pools.
I chuckle and stroke myself a few times, feeling the blood rush to the surface, making me harder than ever before. "Only for you."
She licks her lips. "Good, because I've got some place for you to store it."
I laugh. My little virgin is turning into a vixen, and I love it. I love everything about her.
"You do?"
She blushes and nods her head slowly up and down, and despite her embarrassment, her legs fall open in welcome.
I growl. "You're driving me crazy. When you stare at me like that, it makes me want to come." My voice sounds heated, strangled, and I hope she knows what she does to me. I slide up her body and take her lips, feeling her legs wrap around me. "In fact, every single time you fuck me with your eyes it makes me want to explode."
Buyer Beware (Caldwell Brothers Book 1) Page 16
