by K. M. Raya
I don’t know what he thinks I know, but he’s barking up the wrong tree. He and the others have been nothing but suspicious of me since I arrived here and it’s really starting to grow tiresome.
“You know . . . you and I could have some fun around here and our parents would probably condone it.” He sips his drink casually, as if he hadn’t just blatantly propositioned me.
“Not likely, Casanova,” I laugh bitterly, shoving down the excitement his words shoot through my whole body.
“Besides, my Papa isn't in charge of that part of my life. I don’t need permission to fuck someone,” I lie.
His grey eyes flash with heat.
“Is that so,” He moves in closer. We’re chest to chest now and all that separates our bodies is his glass of whiskey. “You do a lot of fucking then?”
I can tell he’s trying to unnerve me and it’s beginning to work. If he had just been any other guy, I could finesse my way right out of the conversation, but something about Ellis just draws me in and makes me turn into a pile of goo. Watching his sensual lips as they form over the word ‘fucking’ sends shiver right down to my toes.
The doorbell rings in the distance, but Ellis makes no move to answer it. His dark gaze stays latched onto my mouth. Suddenly though, the clicking of heels returns and Aria rushes for the front door. I’m really hoping she hadn’t just witnessed all that but I’d been too wrapped up in Ellis to notice.
Three people enter the room and I can’t restrain a groan as I see Captain, Carter and Holden saunter into the dining area.
“Are we interrupting something?” Carter asks with an accusing smirk. I want to slap it of his stupidly pretty face.
His long blonde hair is tied back in a bun, much like Holden’s and they each wear fitted dress shirts and slacks but still retain a casual air about them. Captain looks perfect too— as usual, but looking a little closer, his bottom lip looks a little swollen.
“What are you guys doing here?"
I place my hands on my hips, attempting to appear annoyed, all the while my heart races and I can feel sweat start to bead on my neck. Having all of them in one place makes me nervous. These guys have a presence to them that tends to suck the air out of a room.
“We were invited, little bird,” answers Holden, stepping forward and placing a small kiss on my cheek. I would have pulled away if I wasn’t in a state of shock. “Isn’t that right Ellis?” He smiles.
Ellis nods, still watching every expression that crosses my face..
“Well isn’t that just awesome . . .”
Strolling my way over to the bar at the corner of the room I pour myself a glass of whiskey and knock it right back. I'm not normally a drinker, but the situation calls for it. The last time we’d all been in the same place they were holding me down and screaming accusations in my face. How the fuck is it possible for them to waltz in here acting like nothing happened?
I can feel each of their eyes on my backside as I swallow another.
This is about to be a long night.
Chapter Thirteen
Ellis
The longer I stand in this room so close to Angel, the harder it becomes to keep my hands off of her. She’s on my turf now and it makes me want to do bad things.
My mind flashes back briefly, to the woods where we held her, torturing information out of her. But that was before I found out she was affiliated with my father. I still don't understand why, but this morning he seemed unusually giddy when he told me she'd be joining us for dinner.
Cole Faux doesn't get . . . giddy.
Her luscious curves are almost too enticing, and the smell of jasmine wafting from her creamy skin makes my mouth water. A dark part of me wants nothing more than to bite down on that exposed shoulder of hers—to hear her whimper in both pain and pleasure I know I can bring her.
I study her as she sips her drink while surveying my three friends as they stand in the doorway to the massive dining room. Those dark eyes of hers don’t miss a thing. I notice as they linger on each man, slowly scanning them over from head to toe. From the serene expression on her face so at odds with the fire in her whiskey colored eyes, I can tell she likes what she sees.
“I wish someone would have told me we’d be having a party,” she grumbles unhappily before sipping once more.
My eyes hone in on those dark red lips as they caress the crystal glass and my body tingles all over. My slacks are uncomfortably tight and I have the keen sense that I’m not the only one in the room with this problem.
One glance at the guys and it’s plain to see that every single one of them is just as captivated by Angel as I am. Even Carter looks affected, and he’d be the very last person anyone would expect to catch feelings of any sort.
But it’s way too soon for feelings.
Sure, she’s a striking woman. Not just in looks, although I can confidently say that I’ve never seen anyone more gorgeous in my life . . . but it’s her aura as well that draws us all in. Something about her is undeniably dangerous.
I like dangerous . . .
“Ah, Ms Valentino, how lovely to see you, dear.” My father strides into the room with a big fake smile on his face. It's almost unnerving and he shows way too many teeth.
His dark blue suit is pressed to perfection and his russet hair has not a strand out of place. Cole has charm for miles, but like many deadly predators, the surface is just what draws you in—what hides beneath it is what you have to be smart enough to sense.
I think Angel can sense it.
“A pleasure.” She strides forward with surprising confidence and reaches out to shake his hand.
“Forgive me, but have we met before?” she asks him, knowing damn well she’d have remembered.
She’s being needlessly coy.
Angel’s smile is serene but her stare is calculating.
“As a matter of fact we haven't, but I have met your sister. What’s her name again—oh yes, Sophia right? Pretty little thing though it’s been years.”
Angel winces ever so slightly. The movement is almost too small to catch, but we’re all trained to look for subtleties like that. Every single man in the room realizes that her sister is a sore spot.
I make a point to file that nugget of information away for a later date.
Cole gestures to the chair at the end of the table across from his seat at the head. We all watch as Angel takes a seat on the plush, high back chair and sets her glass down on the table. We follow shortly after. I’m the closest to Angel on her left, while Holden takes up her right with Carter across from him and Captain next to Carter.
Something about our positioning makes me crack a small smile. From where I sit, Angel looks like a queen, surrounded by her loyal guards—lording over her subjects confidently. It's a stark contrast to the way we’d surrounded her the other day. She'd been at our mercy then and now she sits as our guest.
The raven haired beauty has that way about her though. She commands a sort of respect without even asking for it. I’d seen it at school from her very first day. The same girls who would have normally torn a new girl to pieces, walk on eggshells around Angel. They’re afraid of her. The guys at Draven don’t have the balls to breathe the same air as her much less approach her, although we may be responsible for some of that.
“So you know my Papa then . . . ” Her statement snaps me out of my own head as I observe their back and forth.
“Very well actually. Salvatore and I go way back. He and I attended the same military academy as boys before he returned to Italy in high school. He and I have remained rather close through the years.”
My father studies her with pucker between his black brows.
“I’m surprised though, that Sal never mentioned a second daughter. This came as news to me, but when Ellis told me that a Valentino was in town, my curiosity got the better of me and I gave Sal a ring,” he tells her, but something about his words ring false.
Something tells me he’d known damn well she was coming
to Seaside.
Angel smiles but her jaw is clenched.
“Papa preferred to keep me out of the spotlight. I spent most of my childhood in boarding school overseas,” she supplies.
Cole nods, “I see, well I’d like to welcome you to town—if a bit belatedly. We're not a metropolis as you're probably used to, but Seaside does have it's charm. I hope you're finding your new school to your liking, Draven Prep is one of the finest institutions on the West Coast.”
“So I hear.”
She smiles sweetly. It’s very fake and forced, and so is this conversation.
Aria strolls into the room, holding platters of food with a bright but strained smile on her pretty face. Sometimes I feel bad for my stepmother. I can constantly feel the anxiety rolling off of her in waves. It’s like that every day. She flutters around the house—cooking, cleaning and basically doing anything my dad asks her to do without complaint.
I can’t exactly blame the woman who’d only married Cole less than three years ago. While I know that Cole has never been a physically abusive man like Cap’s dad, he has a way about him that just makes you want to please him. Danger surrounds my father like a dark fog. He’s an imposing force of nature and anyone who comes across ‘The Fixer,’ knows it.
“Why are you here?” snaps Carter suddenly. It’s like he’s been bursting at the seams.
All eyes fly to my blonde friend who glares at Angel from where he sits next to Holden.
“Watch your tongue, boy,” warns my father lazily while he pours himself a glass of scotch.
Carter only deepens his glare, not caring that Cole just threatened him. Carter knows that Cole wouldn’t touch him.
“I don’t trust her. Why Draven of all places? And who the ever loving fuck is Salvatore?” he snarls.
Carter’s never been one to trust blindly. His father, Jack has been in the Brotherhood for decades and his grandfather before him. Naturally, he’d learned that trust was a precarious thing, as were coincidences. We’ve been betrayed too many times.
We all knew from the start that something is off about this dangerously beautiful girl. People like her don’t simply fall into place in a place like Draven Prep without something else working in the background.
No, I don’t know who her father is—have never heard the name Salvatore Valentino before, but I’m also aware that the Brotherhood is in a lot deeper than our father’s liked to let on.
Looking at Angel, I wonder just how deep she goes.
Cole glares at Carter for his outburst, but quickly wipes his face clean of any emotion. It was a valid question, however irritating.
He sighs, running a hand over his face before looking at Angel.
“Would you like to introduce yourself to my son and his friends here, or should I?" he asks her politely.
Angel clenches her jaw but I can tell she’s barely containing an eye roll.
“Oh don’t mind me, go ahead and fill them in— I’m just along for the ride apparently.” She waves her hand absently, sitting back in her seat folding her hands neatly in her lap.
Squinting at the girl, my father huffs out a low laugh. It’s bitter, but I can tell that he’s at least mildly amused with Angel. Her charms really do know no bounds.
Cole clears his throat.
“Salvatore Valentino is one of my oldest and dearest friends,” he informs the table, ignoring his wife fluttering around us like an eager hummingbird. “He also happens to be the ‘Capo Famiglia’ of the New York outfit.”
Silence.
You can hear a pin drop.
The blood in my veins runs ice cold.
The Mafia.
Angel Valentino is the daughter of a goddamn mob boss?
‘Fuck me!’
So many things are beginning to click into place.
Her posh attitude, the grace she exudes—the power in those eyes and the danger that hovers around her. We all watch her suddenly with something new in our eyes. Carters face has turned to stone and I can see that his hands are balled into fists at his side. The vein in his neck is thumping and pulsing rapidly.
“Are you kidding me?” growls Holden. “The fucking mob . . . Cole, do you realize how dangerous she is here?”
Angel’s eyes shift passing over each man at the table. She’s coiled and ready to strike at any moment. She looks like a lion being cornered by wolves.
“What are you going to do about it? You know can’t tell anyone.”
My father interrupts any retort the guys and I might have flung at her.
“Nothing,” Cole assures her with a hard look at each of us. “They’ll do nothing. While you reside in this city, any daughter of Salvatore Valentino will be placed under my personal protection. You have my word.”
I can tell Carter’s fuming. He doesn't like surprises and rarely has he ever lets himself be blindsided. Angel showed up out of nowhere and took us all by surprise from the very first day and it threw him off.
I, on the other hand, can’t suppress the thrill that sings though my body. Looking at her now with new eyes, something about her mob ties makes her so much sexier and I’m a sick fucker for thinking it.
Mark my words, I’m either going to fuck or kill this girl. If it’s the last act of my mortal life, I’ll have her beneath me—and soon.
✽✽✽
My hands still tremble, even as I watch her car glide down the long driveway and away from my estate.
My old man left the room the moment the front door clicked shut and Aria scampered off somewhere to hide herself away from her husband's temper. I don’t envy her this lot in life. She didn’t choose Cole, she’d been sold to him. I know she’s just trying to make the best out of a horrible situation.
Sighing, I join the guys back in the dining room. With my hands deep in my pockets and a scowl on my face, I head straight for the minibar where Carter stands, sipping straight from a bottle of dad’s favorite whiskey.
"Somethings not right about that bitch," my perpetually skeptical friend murmurs in between deep slugs. "And how the fuck did we not know about her mafia ties? The god damn mob for fucks sake!"
I grab the bottle from Carter’s fingers before slumping down into a dining room chair.
"Don't call her a bitch, dude. She’s classier than that," I chide him half heartedly, earning me an eyeroll.
"Looks like our dear old dad’s have some secrets." This coming from Cap, who hasn’t moved from his seat at the table.
A bitter laugh bubbles up and out of Holden's throat as he lounges lazily in the seat across from Cap.
"You fuckin think?” he huffs. “The question is, does she?" He asks.
"Fuck that!"
Carter drunkenly kicks at the mini bar, making the glass bottles clink and rattle together.
"We cant even trust our own blood, let alone some bitch from the fucking mafia!" He throws his hands in the air hysterically.
He’s fucking drunk, and nobody wants to see drunk Carter.
"You break any of those bottles and Cole’s gonna kick your ass," I warn him but even I’m starting to feel my first buzz of the night.
"We need to get ahead of this. I don't know what she wants or why her father would send her to this hellhole, but I do know it can’t mean anything good—even if he’s close with Cole. None of this looks good, for her or us," Captain wisely suggests.
He’s always been the one with the good head on his shoulders. Surprisingly, since his dad’s punched the shit out of it at least a thousand times.
Cap stands up, walking to the edge of the room and just to the side of the gilded door frame, staring thoughtfully at nothing. His normally impeccably combed white hair is disheveled—like he'd run his fingers through it too many times.
It worries me. Captain has his idiosyncrasies and when something throws a wrench in his well laid out world, he's prone to flying off the handle. With the beating I know Cap’s father had given him recently and the way his golden eyes are shifting around the room, I feel li
ke my friend is seconds away from losing himself.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, causing my spine to stiffen and my breath hitches. The guys notice and I watch as each of them sit up a little straighter.
"Fuck . . ." they groan almost collectively.
Pulling out the phone, I check the message only for appearance sake. I know what it’ll say and who it’s from.
"I have to go. You can stay or show yourselves out," I tell them as I scoot my chair out and stand.
"You don't have to do this, you know—" Cap whispers before I stop him with a sharp look. His golden eyes flare with something dark and knowing.
Pitying.
"You know I do," I sigh heavily before slipping my phone back in my pocket and nodding to the guys.
They watch me leave—none of them saying anything further. We all know it would do nothing to change what’s about to go down. It’s the same thing week after week. There’s no way to escape the fate my father has laid out for me, my place in the Brotherhood. This is my job, my duty . . . my oath.
Leaving the main house, I follow the stone path out back until I reach the ‘pool house.’ The building itself looks like any other pool house at any other rich assholes estate. Hell, even the windows are pristine, surrounded by blooming vines and flowers. Not a person in the world could guess at the horrors this little building holds inside.
I can smell it the moment I walk through the front door. The coppery tang slams into me like a truck making me stumble. Nausea pools in my stomach as I approach a secondary door just off of the small galley kitchen which leads my father’s . . . chamber.
The Edison bulb flickers as my foot crosses the threshold. My heart hammers as I watched the slender, pale man hang from the ceiling by rope wrapped around his wrists. Blood drips down his face and a gag sits firmly lodged between his teeth. Wild eyes watch me as the man's breathing picks up.
"Took you long enough," Micah mutters from the corner of the room.
I ignore him.
Some might call him an artist—a morbid one, but his craft is honed all the same, just like my father. Micah chose the ‘Fixer’ route, surprising us all, especially his own father, Giles who he calls Uncle.
