“Can I call her?”
“No.”
“If you don’t want to be the enemy, don’t treat me as your prisoner. She is my cousin. She is probably worried sick. I just want to tell her I’m okay,” I plead.
He narrows his eyes at me before he releases me in annoyance and gets off the bed. He walks his naked body to the mahogany liquor table on the far side of the room and pours himself a drink. I honestly don’t think there is an untoned muscle in his body. I observe his every move, watching the tension build up in his torso. I can feel the energy shifting, the air in the room getting thicker within seconds. This man has the ability to change the weather in a fucking room.
Is he related to Zeus or something? Jesus, fuck.
I cover my body with the black silk sheets, showing nothing more than my face as I wait until he finally turns around. The sight is dazzling, watching this wall of a man standing in front of me in his full glory. Holding nothing more than a tumbler of whiskey. I swallow at the sight of him, relieved that he has no pockets to pull a knife from.
“I can’t trust you.” It’s not a question, and it actually kind of hurts. I get it. I really do. But I’m so sick of people misjudging me. I know I’m his prisoner, but I didn’t do anything to betray his trust. I kept my end of the deal. So far, at least.
“Because I’m a Reyes?” My voice is filled with disdain.
“Yes.”
I sigh in disappointment, shaking my head.
“We made a deal. I behave, and you keep your men out of my pants. Why would I betray that deal? You think I would risk that? You think it’s fun to be raped? To be treated like a piece of meat?” I throw my legs off the side of the bed and get up, draping the silk sheet around me. I know this thing, or whatever it is, is weird as fuck, but I kind of thought we were past the whole ‘you are my prisoner’ thing.
He did that.
He did that when he started kissing me. Again.
He did that when he started fucking me. Again.
I storm towards the bathroom, having every intention of locking myself in my own room. This man keeps confusing the hell out of me. I am confusing the hell out of me. How can I hate and want someone at the same time? It’s like my mind keeps telling me to run away and keep myself locked up in that luxurious room, yet my body wants to launch myself at him every single fucking time he’s near me.
I keep my eyes focused on the bathroom door, determined to not even grant him a glare.
My hand reaches for the door when the buzzing vibration of something besides my ear startles me in my tracks. The small thud draws my eyes to where the blade enters the door in front of my face. My mini heart attack is not as big as the first time he threw a knife at my head, but my rage compensates for the lost emotion.
How the fuck did he magically make a blade appear when he is butt naked?
“You-cock-sucking-piece-of-motherfucking-shit!” I yell at him. This time, I yank out the blade without effort and point it at him while he saunters towards me like he’s walking through a goddamn park.
This ain’t no picnic, motherfucker.
“Throwing knives at my head is not going to stop me from seeing you as the enemy, asshole.” He effortlessly grabs the knife out of my hand, tossing it on the floor before he pushes my back against the door. This seems to be his preferred position whenever I defy him. He better not think caging me in with his arms is a way to cage my mind, because that sure as fuck ain’t happening.
There is no taming this girl.
“I told you to never walk away from me again,” he growls. I should be scared. His energy is overwhelming, but I’m getting used to it. He barks a lot, but he has yet to show me that he bites.
At least when it comes to me.
I hold myself together and aim my rebellious gaze on his.
“Yeah, well, I told you to stop throwing knives at my head. I guess we both suck at listening.”
He presses his forehead against mine.
“God, woman, you’re a fucking enigma.”
“Really? I thought I was pretty damn transparent?” I counter, pointing one finger in the air. “One, don’t treat me like a dog. Two, don’t throw knives at my head. Three, keep your men away from me. See, it’s really not that hard.” I mock, trying to seem unaffected.
“Shut up,” he whispers before he presses his lips against mine. I should be used to his lips on mine by now, but this kiss is different. Instead of my lower body jumping to life, it’s the flutter in my stomach that makes it different. It’s the way he is touching me. The frenzied lust and madness is missing. His touch is full of affection, like that first kiss in the elevator.
But heavier. A shit ton heavier.
Like he feels the same intensity, he jerks his head back, locking his gaze with mine.
“What the fuck,” he mutters. I can see the confusion in his eyes. Hoping to snap him out of it, I wrap my arms around his waist, trying to stop the panic from creeping farther in to his head. I don’t want to lose this moment, not when I feel like he’s about to open up.
A little.
My hands seem to have the same melting effect on him as his touch has on me, making his eyes soften a little, and I reach up to give him a small kiss. When I look into his eyes again, the panic is gone, and he’s just looking at me.
“Just let me tell Imogen that I’m alright. That’s all I ask. You can trust me,” I emphasize the last words, looking straight into those blue lasers. I need to show him he can trust me.
I won’t betray his trust. Not just because I don’t want to break our deal, but because I actually want him to trust me. Because my gut wants to trust him.
He takes a few steps back, breaking our connection while he rubs the palm of his hands over his face before lifting one finger in the air. His face is filled with contradiction.
“One call. And I’m not leaving the room. If you fuck this up, I won’t be able to keep Liam away from you, and you’ll be on your own. You got that?” His face is troubled, but I’m not sure if it’s because he doesn’t know if he can trust me or because he doesn’t like the thought of Liam getting a free pass.
I hope it’s the last.
I nod submissively, trying to show him how serious I am. He walks to the nightstand on his side and opens a drawer. I wait patiently for whatever he is doing, still wrapped in his black sheet. He pulls out a phone and hands it to me. It’s the same rose gold iPhone as I have, and it takes me a second to realize …
It is mine.
“You brought my clothes, and you brought my phone?” I ask incredulously.
“I’m thorough.” He shrugs as he directs me to the bed, pushing me to sit down on the edge of it.
When my ass hits the bed, he takes a seat next to me, still naked and distracting as fuck.
My gaze locks with his, looking at him with new eyes.
Why bring my stuff if he doesn’t care?
“Three minutes. You get three minutes, and you’re not moving an inch from this bed. You got it?”
“Yes, sir,” I affirm. He nods, and I swipe the screen to open my phone. Thirty missed calls from Genny. A text message from Ronnie. And half a dozen missed calls from an unknown number.
Probably Italian as well.
I decide to look at Ronnie’s text first, hoping he hasn’t done anything to Genny.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: WHERE YOU AT, AMORÉ? YOU BETTER NOT RUN, BECAUSE YOU CAN’T HIDE. CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU ;)
Yuk. The bastard actually gave me a winky face.
I meet Kane’s eyes, and the questionable look in his eyes tells me that text didn’t go by unnoticed.
Great.
I ignore him and dial Imogen’s number. She answers after only two rings, like she has been waiting by the phone for the last few days.
Which she probably has.
“Holy shit, Callie. Is that you?” she screeches so loud into my ear, it hurts. I can’t really blame her, though. If I were her, I would be freaking out too.
&nb
sp; “Yeah, it’s me,” I sigh.
“Thank the lord, I was worried sick. Where the fuck have you been? Are you home?”
“Not exactly.”
“Girl, tell me you’re not on some kind of fucking spa retreat, because I even went to Ronnie to look for you.” Her voice sounds worried, but it’s laced with attitude.
My heart practically stops, and I take a deep breath.
“You went to Ronnie?”
“Yes.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes,” she answers dryly.
“You went to the fucking home of a mobster and just walked in?”
“Yes.”
“Like into the lion’s den?”
“Yes.”
“Into the dragon’s lair?”
“Goddammit, Callie! Yes! I went to that goddamn restaurant of theirs and asked for an audience with Distucci,” she continues, aggravation obvious in her tone.
“Senior?” I question incredulously, holding in my breath. Fuck, this girl has no brain sometimes. “Please tell me you didn’t piss off the old man?”
“Yes, senior. And no. One of those spaghetti eaters called Ronnie, and he came instead.”
I exhale in relief.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind, Genny? You don’t mess with the mob. I told you that a hundred times,” I reprimand her. I feel Kane’s gaze burning a hole in my cheek, and I quickly glance over before pointing my eyes back at the floor. His eyes are tiny slits, and he looks like he’s dying to know why we are involved with the Italians.
“Well, what the fuck was I supposed to do? You were gone. I thought maybe Ronnie snatched you earlier than he’d agreed, so I went there to demand more time. Don’t school me for shit you would have done while drawing a gun, sister.”
She is not wrong.
I would do that if she was the one who’d been taken.
But she is not. I am.
“They were following you?”
“Hold up. Ronnie said he didn’t have you, so if he doesn’t, then who the fuck does?” she asks, dodging my question. I look at Kane, who is entirely concentrating on my face.
“Where am I?” I mouth to him. His lips form a straight line, and he shakes his head from left to right.
“No,” he states with force, even though no sound comes out of his mouth.
“I can’t tell you.”
“So you were taken?”
“Yes.”
“By who?” she chirps out louder than expected. I can hear her brain trying to figure this out as Kane nods his head, giving me permission to answer her question.
“The Carrillo brothers.”
“Holy motherfucking shit. What the … Since when are we in trouble with the Carrillo brothers?”
“We are not. My dad is.”
“Oh,” she grunts. “Well, shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So … you’re livestock, but for a different crime lord?”
“Yeah.” That basically sums up the situation.
“Fuck, Callie. Are you alright?” Pity is etched through her words, and I hate it. I don’t want her to worry. I’m the one who always takes care of us, and there is no one to take care of anything when I’m stuck on a ship.
“I’m fine, they are treating me very well, and it’s really not that bad,” I admit, looking into my capturer’s eyes. A smug smile appears on his face, and I roll my eyes at the sight of it.
Cocky son of a bitch.
“I’m confused, though. I heard the Carrillo brothers were ruthless, senseless, and fucking handsome. Are they not?”
“Yes, yes, and yes. The last one being a hell yes.” Kane shoots me an approving look then scoots a little closer, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Hell yes? That good, huh?” I hear her say through the phone while Kane starts planting kisses on my neck.
“That good,” I say, trying to concentrate on the conversation. I swallow at his touch and let out a soft moan.
Fucking asshole.
I swat his arm and try to push him away.
“Stop it,” I hiss.
Genny stays quiet, and I can hear her brain working through the phone. My cousin isn’t dense. I may be the boldest of us two, but other than that, she is exactly like me.
“Huh, funny,” she comments with a judgy tone. “Kane and Liam Carrillo, right?”
I hum in response, knowing exactly where she is going.
“So two Kane’s in one week. What a coincidence.” I keep my mouth shut while I push off the bed, avoiding Kane’s lips. I can’t concentrate when he does that. He snatches my wrist, tugging me between his legs while his naked butt is still on the bed. His height places me only an inch higher than him, and I look into his coercive eyes, while his hands hold me firmly by my hips.
“Fucking hell, Callie. You’re sleeping with the enemy, aren’t you?” Imogen blurts through the phone when I don’t respond.
I let out a loud sigh and close my eyes, listening to her breathing heavily through the phone.
I know this girl better than she knows herself. She’s freaking out because she doesn’t understand the situation.
“Are you still sleeping with him?” she whispers.
I open my eyes, Kane still studying every motion on my face.
“I’m okay, Imogen,” I say with force, telling her to not push any further. I don’t know how much Kane wants to share, and right now, he’s my biggest problem.
“Well, I’m happy for you.” Sarcasm is dripping through the phone. “But I’m freaking out. What the fuck is going on?” I hear the panic in her voice. I knew this was coming, and the sole reason I needed to call her.
“Look, I’ll be fine. They will trade me for whatever my dad took from them, and I will be home before you know it.”
“What about the Italians? You only have seven days left. I’m really freaking out, Callie.” I know what she’s saying. I know there isn’t any other option left. Not if I want to have a chance at keeping her safe. Keeping us safe.
“I will find a way. Look, just take a spa day. Relax, get a massage, order some of those tuna thingies you like, and I’ll be home before you know it, okay?” I hear her sniffling on the other side of the line because she knows this is serious. She knows life will change, and she is scared to do it without me being there next to her.
But I will be there soon.
“Really? Are you sure about that?” she asks with a thick voice.
“I promise, Genny. I will be home before you know it.”
19
Callie
Four Days Ago
I traded my walk of shame outfit for my ever-comfortable camel timberlands and a gray hoodie as I walk the New York sidewalks. It’s a day and night difference compared to how I strutted out of his hotel three hours ago. Kane insisted that his driver give me a ride home, but I snuck out when he was in the shower after he fucked me senseless. Again. I don’t know what it is with that guy, but I didn’t trust myself to actually leave if he got his hands on me once more. Or what the fuck I would do if he was to turn up on my doorstep after his driver took me home.
Since that would’ve required me to give him my address.
I would love for that to happen, but I’m already in as much shit as it is, and putting another alpha male in the mix is surely going to stir everything up even more.
But fuck me, what a shame.
I could’ve strangled him when he kept denying me my orgasm, but once he pushed me over, all was forgotten. That guy really was something else.
I push the heavy pink door open and walk over the threshold to enter Daisy’s. I feel slightly hungover from getting barely any sleep, and normally, the bright pink and girly colors in this place would annoy me in this state, but the amount of orgasms I had in the last twelve hours has me feeling nothing but utter bliss. The latest Pink song is playing in the background, and I shoot the barista a smile before I notice Imogen in the back of the room at our regular table. The table is covered
with a pastel green cloth, and on top of the table is a big étagère filled with small pastries, sandwiches, and cupcakes. This is our ritual after a night of clubbing.
High tea at Daisy’s.
I walk across the room and fall down onto the pink velvet wing chair, giving my cousin a big smile.
She raises up her aviators in order to examine me before she puts them back on and runs her hand through light blonde hair. She’s wearing dark, high-waist jeans with a tucked in AC/DC t-shirt. Her black leather jacket makes her look like she’s a die-hard rock chick, even though she hasn’t listened to anything other than country music since the day she was born.
“Oh, fuck, the world is too bright today,” she croaks out in an agonized voice. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”
I grab the pink floral teapot and fill both of our blue mugs with steaming water before I throw an orange flavored tea bag in each one.
“Six times,” I reply with a smug grin.
Her jaw drops to the table, and she raises her sunglasses again to look me in the eye. Her bright baby blue eyes seem dim from the lack of sleep and the amount of alcohol still running through her veins, but the sharpness of her judging eye is still there.
Like only she can.
“You little skank. You stayed the night?”
I casually shrug one shoulder like it’s no big deal.
“I was too tired after the fourth time. He told me to stay, and I fell asleep before I could tell him I would just go home.”
She studies my face for a few seconds before she takes a sip of her tea.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“You actually like the guy,” she announces.
“Wouldn’t you if he made you come six times in one night?” I cock an eyebrow. Seriously, what is there not to like?
“No, you actually like this guy,” she repeats while she leans back and shoots me a knowing look. I roll my eyes at her comment and sink my teeth into a mini ham and cheese sandwich.
“Oh, whatever. Just let me enjoy a night of marvelous sex before I’ll have to eat spaghetti for God knows how long.”
“Not so fast, girl.” She throws her hair over one shoulder while raising her ass up to put a leg under it and settle back into her seat. She leans back in the chair and grabs her tea with one hand while she drapes her other hand over the back of the chair.
Chasing Fire (The Fire Duet Book 1) Page 15
