by Jax Hart
REQUIEM
JAX HART
Copyright©2020 by Jax Hart
[email protected]
PROLOGUE
Chloe & Roque
The Present…
The pen taps between my parted lips. How can I describe what we had? How I feel? Why I can’t let it the fuck go?
The words fill my head. I need to get them out. Taking the pen from my mouth I put it to the page:
You.
I never saw you coming. But your flame-colored locks wrapped around my heart. Choking it. Owning it.
We both wear crowns of thorns twisted vines of deep-seeded hate slash love.
I finally understand now. How one is the same as the other.
I own your life and you own mine.
How many nights have a dreamed of you little butterfly who morphed into a different animal all together? You’re even more beautiful now. But I damaged you, broke you, just as you broke me.
Who will win?
The past?
The future?
Or our bloodies and bruised destiny of neve ending circles?
“More poetry? Pining over your lost beloved?”
“Shut up,” Chloe. “I’m shipping you out in the morning.
She sighs, pushing her blonde hair off her anxious face. My heart clenches for a split-second; torn in its decision to send her away.
“I really wish you wouldn’t.” She stares at me with large, sad eyes.
“It’s what’s best for you.”
“When do I get a say in what’s best for me?”
“When you’re eighteen?” I smirk.
“Ass.”
I shrug. “Never denied it. You all packed?”
“Three Louis Vuitton suitcases full of 20k of designer clothes and beauty products… does it help you feel less guilty?”
“I’m not familiar with that emotion.”
“Liar. You’re full of it when you speak of her.”
“She’s out of my life. Has been for a long time. I’m over it.”
“Now, I’m really calling bullshit.”
Frowning, I stand, lazily walking over to the wet bar to refill my tumbler of scotch. “Language. I won’t be in Switzerland to save you from bullies.”
She bites her lip. “Your name would protect me if you adopted me” He chin wobbles. Fuck. I rake my hands through my hair.
“Having my name would be a death sentence. I have enemies, Chloe.”
She shakes her head. “No one could ever beat you. You’re the king. Untouchable.” She looks out into the night skyline over Chicago from my penthouse. “Well… only one person can bring you down.”
“Not if I find her first…,” I mutter under my breath. But she still hears me.
“I knew it. Fine. Send me away but make me a promise, Roque. Find your dark queen, put a ring on it, and make crazy beautiful babies.”
I shake my head, my heart sneezing at the image she creates. I’m allergic to love and commitment ever since my Blue slash Little Red ran. Probably because deep-down my heart knows she’s the only one who can come back to claim it. But Romina never came back. I’ve been in enough tabloids and news stories that she knows how to find me. I never changed Ralph Smith’s cell. I kept the phone filled with our phots, kept every text and voicemail. Johnny would laugh his ass off if he knew what a sentimental lovesick loser she made me.
“Doubtful that will happen. Go to bed. It’s a long flight.”
“I can’t sleep and you know why.”
My hand tightens around my drink. I haven’t told her, but I’ve managed to track down every creep whose care she was in. Every fucked-up foster home she felt afraid in and did what I do best. Eliminate. Chloe thinks I’m some hero, but Romina saw the truth—I was born a monster. A killer. She saw the darkness in my soul and fooled me into believing she could love me anyway. But who’s idea of happily ever after is the villain? The devil? I was a fool for thinking there could ever be redemption for me.
“Do you want me to make you some warm milk?”
“Gross. Can we read more of her journals?”
“I don’t have any.”
“But there’s so much more to your story to be written.”
“Not as much as there is to your story.”
She turns, a smile finally curving her lips. “And I have you to thank for that.”
“Then go to bed. Tomorrow is the first day of many blank pages to be filled with ink.” I open a drawer in my desk, taking out a wrapped gift box and hand it to her,
Her eyes finally light up as she gingerly takes it from my hands. I watch, pleased as she opens my gift.
“It’s perfect.”
In her tiny hands is a handcrafted, journal made form the finest Italian letter and filled with lightly perfumed cream pages. I had it flown from Paris along with a silver and gold pen with diamonds from Tiffany’s.
“Only the best for my girl.”
Her throat works. “Roque?”
“Welcome to my fucked-up family, squirt.” My place my drink down and lift the envelope from my desk handing it to her. It only took a few phone calls and fifty grand in cash to a judge but she was mine. It was selfish as fuck and I could’ve had the papers torn in a whim but the way she looks at me like I;m her world shredded me.
“Chloe Salvatore. That sounds totally badass.”
“It does.”
She springs forward, flinging her arms around me. My own throat feels scratchy. Fuck. I breathe deep fighting back tears. Bad ass villains don’t cry. They don’t cry. The words loop on repeat in my mind.
“See? I knew you were a good man. I prayed every night that you would decide to keep me.”
“I’ve never been the answer to anyone’s prayers.”
“Maybe it’s time you change. Use your super villain skills for good. Like saving girls like me.”
“I’ll think about it. Tomorrow’s a big day. You should try to sleep.”
“I think I can now, especially since you’re stuck with me for good. I can’t wait to find Romina. She’s going to be the best mom ever.”
“What?” I bark. “Don’t you dare go looking for her.”
“Why? Because that’s your job?”
“Maybe,” I grin. I turn to the windows picturing the three of us around a ridiculous Christmas tree as the wind blows drifts of snow outside. My hand fists inside my trouser pocket because I know better. There are no happy endings for men like me. I’ll be lucky if I survive long enough to sure Chloe gets hers through. I’m going to make damn sure that girl gets the world.
***
A low growl emanates from me. I pull Chloe closer to my side, shooting daggers from my eyes at every high school punk eyeing her. In her new school uniform with knee high socks, she’s cute as a button. But to them she’s a shiny new piece of meat they’d like to sink their teeth into. What the fuck was I thinking sending her to a boarding school in Switzerland?
A smartly dresses woman greets us, “Welcome Mr. Salvatore and of course welcome to Chillmark, Chloe.”
“Thank you.”
Chloe’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes and her hand tightens in mine. Shit. She’s scared and I just send her directly into the wolfpack as more hormone-crazed boys dressed in their impeccably pressed school uniforms give me girl some serious side eye.
“Chloe will have 24/7 bodyguards accompanying her while she’s here.”
“Of course, Mr. Salvatore…”
“What?” Chloe whips her head around, causing her blonde waves to fly out around her. Her blue eyes narrow and I’m already having acid reflux at the stunning beauty she’s become.
“Give us a minute, Miss….?�
�
“Headmistress Diamandis.”
“Right, thank you.” I turn to Chloe. “You’re a Salvatore now, Chloe. With the name comes certain risks. You know that.”
“Look around, there is nothing but snow-capped mountains leading to valleys. The air’s so fresh. I never knew air could smell so… clean. Where’s the danger?”
“About twenty feet behind you,” I mutter. She glances over her shoulder and gives a cute finger wave to a group of boys gathering on the courtyard. They all grin back. Mother fuckers. “Forget it. We’re leaving. Going back to Chicago. This isn’t the right place for you.”
She bites her lip. “I didn’t want to come. But now that we’re here. I want to give it a try.”
“No.”
She places a hand on my forearm. “You know how I feel about boys and sex. You don’t have to worry, Roque.”
My chest tightens. I feel the nerve under my left eye twitch. “I’ve only been your “father” officially for two days and I’m already having a stroke.”
“Calm down,” she giggles. “I’ll be fine.”
I shake my head as feelings of possession flood through me. Feelings I haven’t felt since Romina. Although these are paternal it still burns.
We walk back to the head mistress who gives us a tour and leaves us outside the girl’s dormitory. I snap my fingers indicating my men to fetch Chloe’s luggage.
We use her fob key to gain access to the building. I prefer stairs to elevators whenever possible for safety reasons and we climb to her room on the fourth floor.
Her hands tremble slightly as she uses the ancient key to turn the lock. Although most of the buildings have modern updates, there’s something about using a heavy key to unlock a door that keeps an old world feel to the place.
“No. No way am I leaving you in this dump.” My fingers pluck an imaginary piece of dust by my cuff links. Chloe rolls her eyes.
“This is a palace compared to the places I’ve lived before you.”
“It’s simply not good enough.” My jaw clenches as I inspect the dark wood floors with a few scrapes and the plain white paint. In one corner is a lonely desk with a few scratched marring the surface. Under the window is a plain metal frame bed.
I unlock my cell and dial my personal valet, Ken. “Mr. Salvatore?”
“Hire an interior designer for Chloe’s dorm room. I’ll text the dimensions with a few pictures. Hire the best. Spare no expense and I want it done in twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, sir.” I disconnect with a grunt, snap my fingers for my guard to wheel out her suitcases again. “You’ll stay in the hotel with me tonight. I won’t have you sleeping here.”
“You’re being ridiculous. If I’m seen as some pampered princess… the bullying could be intense for me.”
I grab her close. “You are a pampered princess. You’re mine. We’re leaving. No one would dare bully you either or I’ll bury them and their parents.”
“Roque… we talked about this. You’re going to be a good super villain remember?”
“I never agreed to that,” I growl, yanking her hand taking her out of that depressing room.
“I’m re-thinking this whole alpha dad super villain family thing.”
“Too bad. It’s legal. I’m your guardian now and what I say goes.”
She rolls her eyes, “No wonder she ran.”
My blood boils. But I don’t say a word not trusting myself to snap. Snapping at little Chloe is the last thing I ever want to do. The girl is the only bright spot in my dark cavernous heart.
My face is tight as we walk out across the courtyard to the helicopter with the Salvatore logo. That’s right. We didn’t roll up in the stereotypical Range Rover. I sent a message choosing the chopper. I’m above the so-called elites. IF they fuck with my girl, Chloe I will return with hellfire.
I usher Chloe in the chopper and signal the pilot to start the rotors. With my head set on and aviators blocking the emotions in my eyes—I’m thrown back in time as my gaze collides with hungry appreciative ones, eyeing my golden girl ascending with me into the sky.
I was one of them. Once upon a time. Instead of a golden girl, my queen had bright blue hair. I sigh, sinking against the plush leather seat feeling a headache come on. How can I protect Chloe from horny teen- aged boys while running my empire a world away? I’ll double her guards if need be. Little Red had no one to protect her. Even her Uncle knew what I wanted, and knew he couldn’t stop me. I’ve had other lovers over the years. But none quenched the fire, the thirst or made me feel utterly spent. Damn her. I’ll continue my search over the world for her. If for no other reason except to get closure.
My hand balls into a fist. As the chopper glides forward, my memories go back to the days and months after she left Jersey. I was broken-hearted, angry, and determined to save her from the wrath of my wife. You see my wife had a bet with the other remaining families from Italy on who could capture her first. They were going to make a sport out of the hunt and torture her. Killing her was at the top of my wife’s wish list. I was determined to spare Little Red if for nothing else but to torture her myself. I wanted to hit her back the way I felt sucker punched when my “wife” told me my Baby Blue was the Fiorelli girl. That Little Red was the same woman I had fallen so irrevocably in love with. But my torture would be sexual and she knew it. Hell, I bet she ran because she knew she couldn’t handle me. But Red had her pride. She’d rather run from love than ever admit she’s a slave to it.
I had almost caught her too. Almost. If only I could change the past, I truly would be the most powerful man in the world. But there’s no hope for lost souls like me. The Pope himself could hold a million Requiem’s for me and it wouldn’t do any good. My fate was sealed that day in the woods. The day when I almost extinguished the best thing that had ever happened to me…
ROQUE
1
THE PAST
She looks stunning, a fiery goddess hell-bent on revenge. I held my breath at first as she took my video call. But seeing her glorious titan hair tumbling down her back as sparks shot to the sky form the bonfire, she had burning has me hard as fuck. She was glorious, my Little Red.
“Her lips might be pressed to yours but it’s mine you crave,” she taunts.
Damn her. She’s right. I might have had my wife’s lips pressed to mine, but it was hers I’s kill for. My hand stills on the crystal decanter if whiskey seconds before I hurl it into the fire. It explodes against the back wall of the hearth creating a fireball of flames. I shake my head. That’s us. Her and I. One big ball of fire. How can we love one another without third degree burns?
What was I thinking leaving her in Jersey? I should have never left America. Nothing good ever happened in Palermo. Italy was my past and Blue was my future. I need to find her. Hunt her the way she hunted me. I need to know. I need to know if it was all a lie. Or if what we had was real. But I have a hard time believing she could love me after what I did to her when we were kids.
“I still don’t understand what you crave about that girl. She barely has any tits. Definitely no ass.”
“Just fucking go. Leave already Gabriella. I don’t want you.”
“Really?” She purrs, inching her talon-like nails up my chest. “You fucked me like a god on our wedding night. I couldn’t walk straight for two days.”
“That wasn’t me, you soulless bitch. That was Johnny. I’d never stick my dick in you,” I sneer. “You knew that.”
“I don’t believe you,” she cries, flinging herself in my arms. I pick her up, kick open the backdoor and dump her ass on the wet ground. “Believe it,” I snap, turning my back and locking the door with a click. Fuck her. She can figure out a way out of her own self-created mess. I have a heart thief to catch and not one second to spare for anyone else.
My fingers tap the keys on my laptop. I login to every signal camera blanketing Princeton. But I can’t find Blue. She covered her tracks well. I grin. There’s nothing like the hunt. Catchin
g her is going to be a high like no other. My fingers already itch, yearning to hold her in my arms. The question is what I am going to do with my Little Red when I catch her…
2
Romina
2018….
“HE’S SO DEAD! ARGH!” My hand grips the handle of the knife. It sings through the air and lands dead smack in the middle of his sexy face. He’s all over the tabloids. His cousin’s wedding to some schoolteacher was hardly newsworthy. But him? Roque Salvatore, mob king extraordinaire dancing the night away with a mystery brunette? That was big news.
He’s a recluse.
Private.
Heavily guarded.
The dark king’s rule is absolute.
“And who in the hell is she?”
My blood heats as I pluck the knife from the board where I pinned up their tabloid pic. His eyes. Those damn mesmerizing, hypnotizing bedroom eyes stare down at the woman in his arms. His face is all angular planes, with a classic Roman nose and full lips for a man. His perfect teeth gleam.
He’s a shark.
A demon.
A damn nuisance.
A splinter festering under my skin that I just can’t get out.
A man I loathed and loved for a heartbeat. A stupid, foolish moment in time where I deluded myself into thinking he changed.
I was seventeen and he was brutally sexy and dark. Everything a high school girl should run from instead of running to. And yet I still hoped he didn’t grow up to be the monster I glimpsed one night a lifetime ago.
“I’m going to destroy you like I always said I would. Right after I make that black heart of yours beat only for me. You’ll only look at me like that. Want. Breathe. Live. All for me. Then I’m going to burn your empire to the ground and end your reign.”
My hair the color of a burning sunset in autumn flies around me as I use my anger to fuel my plans. On bare feet, wearing black leggings, I’m as swift and graceful as a prima ballerina. My feet are light, but my hits are hard when I make them.
And I’m saving the hardest one for Romeo Roque. While he slowly built up his empire, I’ve been watching and waiting from a distance making contacts with those who want to see him burn just as much as I do.
