Twisted Bitch (Sick and Twisted Book 2)

by Jaci J

  ~~~~~

  “Dante probably sent one of his goons to make sure you made it home and didn’t wander your hooch-ass around the city,” Matt’s disembodied voice says from outside the shower.

  “You’re probably right.” I ponder my evening in the shower, leaning against the cool tile wall.

  The man wasn’t threatening or upsetting, but still scared the shit out of me. He very well could be one of the many men Date probably employs to stalk me all over the city when he’s too busy to do it himself. And with Dante, it’s very possible it was his way of keeping an eye on me.

  Washing my hair, Matt rambles on about this and that while plucking his eyebrows at my vanity. “So, do you think I should go for him?” Matt asks. I don’t even have the chance to answer him because someone begins to viciously bang on the door.

  “What the hell is that?” Matt’s concerned voice floats over the shower curtain.

  “Not a what, but a who,” I correct him.

  “I’ll get it,” Matt huffs, walking out of the bathroom.

  I know who it is. I’m surprised he’s even knocking, actually. How very gentlemanly of Mr. Personality. Rinsing the conditioner from my hair, I count down.

  Four … Three … Two … One ...

  The curtain flies open and I don’t bother covering myself. He’d probably remove my hands if I did.

  “You know there are these great little inventions. It’s a slightly new technology, a way of communicating,” Dante growls down at me. “A way to reach someone anywhere as long as They.Take.It.With.THEM!” Oh, he’s in a mood.

  His sleeves are rolled up and his shirt is wrinkly and un-tucked, making him look unhinged.

  “Did you lose your phone London, or are you screening calls?” He’d probably have a coronary if I said I was screening.

  “Well, isn’t that stick shoved particularly far up your ass this evening. After the pussy I so kindly gave you, you’d think you’d be a little nicer to me.”

  Shaking his head, he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath. Reaching a hand into the shower, he jerks on the handle, shutting the water off. Grabbing the towel from the hook, he tears it down and shoves it at me. “Hurry up and get dressed.”

  I’m beyond caring why he’s here because let’s face it, he’s not going anywhere so instead of arguing, I do as I’m told before he tries to dress me himself.

  Walking into the living room, I find Dante standing by one of the windows, his hand wrapped around the other, twisting his watch. I can’t see his face, but I know. When it comes to Dante, I always seem to know. He’s nervous.

  “Sit down, London. I brought you food.” He’s trying for calm and soothing, but it’s not working.

  “You did?”

  “Yes. Believe it or not, I know you, and I knew you’d be hungry.”

  “Why are you here?” I know there’s a reason. The true test is to see if I can pull the truth from him. It’s a delicate balance between the truth and a lie for him. “I mean, you did just see me; panties around my ankles and all.” He looks at me in disgust. He doesn’t think I’m funny at all lately.

  “Well you tore out of those panties and took off before I could even take a breath. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “Why?” I don’t believe that for a second.

  “Because I fucking care about you,” he yells, throwing his arms out to either side of him to emphasize his point.

  A laugh, coming from a not so pleasant place, bursts from my lips before I can stop it. It bubbles up from deep down inside, coming from my chest sounding hysterical and delirious.

  I laugh at the absurdity of this whole situation. The only two people who ever gave a shit about me are gone, and I’ve only been left with a shitball father, a lying asshole for a Grandfather, and finally, a man who came in and opened my eyes, showing me that my hopes and dreams have all been one epic joke. All this crazy is laughable. Looking up through blurry, tear soaked eyes, Dante and Matt stare back like I’m the bat shit crazy one here.

  “What the fuck are you laughing about?” Dante demands.

  What am I not laughing about? Here is this scary, vindictive, crazy psycho calling me a little monster. He loves me, but thinks I’m a monster? He stalks me, bosses me, steals and takes whatever he wants from me. It’s insane that I can love and hate him, all at the same time.

  “You call me the monster.” He truly doesn’t see it, or he doesn’t want to own up to it. I can see how difficult it would be for him to believe he’s done anything wrong. I might fight him at every turn, but he’s the sick bastard … the monster.

  “You are. You’re an unruly little monster. You constantly terrorize me, ripping apart my life.” See what I mean? It’s laughable.

  “You’re fucking delusional, Dante.” I can’t even begin to understand the crazy that goes through his mind and pours out of his mouth, so I let it go. He’ll never see it until he’s ready.

  ~~~~~

  At one in the morning, I’m eating a mozzarella, tomato, and basil Panini on my couch with a man I want to hate most in this world, but sitting here, I’ve come to the sickening realization that this is it. This is my life, no matter how hysterically absurd and laughable it is. It’s the good, the bad, the ugly, and Dante.

  He left us to it; said he needed to handle a few things and then disappeared through the door, but not before issuing one more order. “Eat your food, baby.” So I’m eating my food. Matt and I sit on the couch staring at the TV and I can’t help but remember a time just like this not so long ago, a time Dante showed up to rescue me and here he is again, Mr. White Horse in Shining Armor guy to my rescue. Or maybe it’s me, Miss Damsel In Distress asking for it. Either way, he’s here and I feel better, no matter how much I hate it.

  ~~~~~

  The couch dips and my body shifts. My legs are carefully lifted and placed gently back down as warm fingers circle my ankle, giving it a soft squeeze. For a moment, neither of us say anything. Having Dante here touching me feels so right, but so wrong. I want him here as much as I want him to go.

  “Dante, we can’t do this.” I whisper, my voice lost in thought. His strong fingers tighten around my ankle as he shifts uncomfortably under me, and it’s not because of my weight.

  “Why not?” He asks, his voice rough with uncertainty.

  “Because I don’t trust you.”

  “What can I do?” There’s no amount of back talk, insults, or back and forth is going to fix this … fix us. The fighting is pointless. The mean insults are worthless. The lobbed insults are childish. There is nothing he can do, I lie. I lie to him to keep him from breaking my heart again. “Nothing.”

  Taking a deep breath, I wait for his rebuttal, but instead, he does something he’s never done. He leaves without a word.

  ~~~~~

  Watching the street blur by, I stare out of the window aimlessly. Dante is next to me, banging on his phone and shouting at it while Branson drives, humming softly to himself. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’m stuck in this terrible, unhealthy life choice that is Dante.

  The car slows and pulls off the main road, onto a cracked, gravel driveway. Glancing out the window, I notice the neighborhood has shifted from family to industrial. Cranes, shipping containers, big rigs, and docks dot the landscape. Dante had ushered me towards the elevator after lunch with, “We have an appointment.” There was no point in arguing.

  Pulling into a big lot, the car stops in front of a giant pair of metal sliding doors attached to a warehouse. A big, wooden sign hangs from the doors with the word ‘Ships’ scrawled across it.

  We step out and stand by the car when a familiar black car pulls into the large gravel lot. Oh, hell no. My heart hits the gravel at my feet. He didn’t … he wouldn’t, “Dante?” I ask hesitantly, but get no response.

  The car stops a few feet from us and my heart does a small twirl in my chest. Bastard. Turning towards Dante, I reach out and smack his phone from his hands, landing on the gravel
with a thud.

  “Jesus, London.”

  “You set this up.” Looking back at the car, the door starts to open. I could kill him right now and dump his body in the bay.

  “I’m still mad at him,” I protest.

  “It’s time for you to get over it. You’re going to need him someday.”

  “It’s time I killed you,” I mutter under my breath as I plaster on a fake smile for the man hoisting himself from the car.

  “Ah, il mio bambino.” My grandfather says as he throws his arms open for me, his grand gesture of love and affection.

  “Hello, Grandfather.”

  ~~~~~

  I won’t lie and say I haven’t missed him, or pretend that seeing him doesn’t make me happy, but it wasn’t Dante’s place to go behind my back and do this.

  My grandfather sits stoically across from me, hands clasped in front of him and eyebrows drawn down in a serious fashion. “You must forgive your dear old grandfather.” It’s not a question. I might, but I still don’t understand why he did what he did.

  “Why, Dante?”

  Rubbing his thumb and finger over his gray beard, he nods thoughtfully. He hesitates a moment, choosing his words carefully, “Dante is the lesser of two evils.” So I’ve heard.

  “I know, but why not keep the business in the family?” I’m not sure what is so hard about my question. Why would he just throw the company and me to the sharks?

  “I have my reasons … I have plans.”

  “What?”

  “He was coming for it either way, London. Dante’s connections are much greater than mine and he would have found a way to take it all. This way was much less messy because he was not the only one coming for the business. Those men were much worse and much more messy. I had you to consider also, so I made my deal with Mr. Marcello. Years ago, I sold part of my soul to the Devil, and he came eventually came to collect. I took a chance, thinking Mr. Marcello was the one who would keep the company, and you, protected. Things will work themselves out, il mio bambino, they always do.”

  Being one of the most important men in my life, he kept important things from me, so I try hard to stay pissed at him.

  “You know Dante and I were a …” I’m not even sure what we were. A couple? Friends with benefits? A mess would be the most accurate.

  “Yes, I know,” he says evenly, but his lips are tight. He’s holding out on me.

  “Now we’re nothing.”

  “I know.” Like Dante, he knows everything.

  “I want this business back in the family. You promised me this company. It’s what I’ve given my life to for years, going to school and learning everything I needed to know. I gave up a lot for this.” I tell him.

  Standing up from the small bench, he rights his jacket before offering me his hand to pull me up. He places his lips on my forehead and says quietly, “You will, my darling granddaughter. Like I said, these thing will work themselves out. This business has a way of weeding out the infections. Have patience.”

  I watch my grandfather give Dante a curt nod before sliding back into his car. Sometimes I feel like everyone around me is speaking a language I’m not fluent in. I catch bits and pieces, but I never truly seem to get the full meaning.

  Dante comes to stand next to me, his hand on my back. A sign of ownership or support? I don’t know. “Lets go. I have a meeting and you need food.”

  “How do you know I’m hungry?” I ask him without looking at him. I am hungry.

  “Because I know you, London … inside and out, baby.”

  Dante

  Tapping my foot, I nod vigorously in an attempt to hurry this along. My ass is on the edge of my seat as I stare him down with impatient eyes. He’s not getting the fucking hint.

  I sent London to lunch with Matt as soon as we were back from the port, pointing them in the direction of a new place across town and sent them off with a, “take your time,” hoping they would do just that.

  Leaning forward, I can’t seem to sit still. Ever since my ambush on London at the shipyard, she seems less mean and a little nicer. Not too much nicer, but there is progress there, and currently I’m one step ahead with the possibility of taking two steps back if she comes back from lunch on time.

  Leaning down, Cam whispers, “You look like a fuckin’ junky. Calm the fuck down.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I whisper back. Righting himself, he shrugs.

  Twisting my hand around, I encourage the man in front of me to hurry the fuck up and get the words out of his mouth before I pull them out my damn self. Why must he describe everything to the smallest detail? His words are taking up my precious time.

  “The cameras were disconnected.” Yeah, yeah.

  “You’re telling me things I know, Leo.”

  “I think they were disconnected before they showed up, and. …”

  Shifting through a file, he stops mid-flip and raises his eyes to me when I don’t respond. I haven’t acknowledged him in hopes he’ll carry on and hurry the fuck up.

  “Okay?” I say, shaking my head. I don’t know what the hell he wants me to say. I want the information and then I want him gone. He doesn’t need a response from me. This is not some casual conversation.

  The elevator doors ping and I almost bolt out of my seat. Fuck. Leo looks from me to the door, clearly not understanding my near fucking heart attack.

  “Mr. Marcello?” He asks carefully.

  “Keep going.” I urge him along. London should be back from lunch soon and Leo needs to be gone before then, like down the block and around the corner, gone.

  “So, like I was saying,” he starts to say, but it looks like my fucking luck has run out.

  “Dante?” her voice floats in from the hall. My back stiffens and I hold my breath, bracing myself with my hands on the top of my desk. I’m so fucked.

  It’s like a car accident; slow, painful, and unavoidable. She walks in, looking at me, none the wiser. “Could you …” she stops midsentence just inside of the door as her eyes widen and her mouth snaps shut. Fuck, I’m so stupid―so fucking stupid. It’s a wonder I’m still alive sometimes. Cam snickers to himself beside me. He’s going to enjoy this.

  I watch her eyes land directly on Leo, who is fidgeting with his paperwork. He looks a tad bit like I feel―sick. Those enchanting green eyes narrow and her lip curls in a deranged little smirk. She’s going to enjoy this, but in a different way than Cam. She’s going to tear me limb from limb and drain me dry, all while Cam watches and enjoys the show.

  “Oh, you sick fucking bastard,” she seethes.

  I’m up and out of my seat just before she starts coming toward me. I have no clue what it’ll accomplish, but I’m not going to be sitting when she’s like this, that’s for sure. London is scary and she’s even scarier when I’m below her. I’m up, but I make sure to keep my distance in fear of losing an appendage.

  “I want to kill you with my bare fucking hands right now.” I’d love to see her try, I want to say, but in fear for my life, I shut my goddamn mouth. “

  “Cam, gun!” she demands, holding her hand out to him, wiggling her fingers impatiently. She’s going to shoot me with my men standing by, enjoying the show.

  “London, dollface, I can’t let you shoot the boss, no matter how much he deserves it,” Cam calmly tries to soothe her. He’s on her side, the fucking traitor.

  “Hit him for me, Goldfish,” she commands since he’s standing directly behind me. For fuck’s sake.

  “London,” This has got to stop. She can’t kill me, no matter how much she may want to, or turn my guys against me.

  Tearing her purse off her shoulder, she hurls it to the floor with a flip of her wrist. It’s game time. She may not be able to end my life, but it won’t stop her from threatening it. “Knife through your heart, rope around your neck, balls in a vise kind of kill you.” Oh, baby is good.

  Is it normal to be terrified of a small little woman? Probably not. Is it sick to be so goddamn hard it hurts
when she threatens me? Yes. That fury, unadulterated hate would scare any man, but does it make me want to spread her thighs wide and fuck her until it hurts us both. Abso-fucking-lutely.

  “Baby …,” holding a hand up, she stops me before I even get started. Jesus, I’m going to tape that little hand back down at her side.

  “You are a delusional, devious fuck,” she spits at me. “I knew you were crazy, but that,” she points at Leo and then looks back to me, “is extra crazy. Sending someone to watch me halfway across the fucking world, even after I told you to stay the fuck out of my life is insane. You always have to have some sort of control over me, no matter how big or small it seems to you.”

  I don’t think it was crazy or insane at all. In fact, I think it was a fucking necessity―a fucking priority. The most important person in the world to me was out there, away from me, so you bet your goddamn ass I would send someone to keep an eye on her. She’s goddamn lucky I didn’t pick up shop and move myself there with her.

  “And you,” Oh hell, now it’s Leo’s turn. “Drew, was it? Did you have a nice vacation, Drew?” Poor Leo looks like he might throw up.

  “Il mio amore,” I try cautiously to stop her before she tears his head off and gets blood all over my office. Swinging her eyes back to me, she looks like she’s ready to go in for the kill.

  “I hate you so fucking much.” I wonder when she’ll stop saying it. I fucking get it. She hates me, yada, yada, yada.

  The ringing of my cell phone slices through tension and I almost sigh in relief. Glancing down, I notice an important name flash across the screen. Bringing my eyes back up, I stare at my crazy looking London. These motherfuckers are picking some terrible times to interrupt me today. Looking back at London, she shakes her head, clearly disappointed.

  “Just answer your stupid phone. I don’t have time for your shit anymore. I’ve got deaths to plot. And all of you,” she whirls an angry finger around the room, pointing at each man, “better watch your backs.” She finishes with a sweet smile just for me before turning and walking out the door. Not to her office, but straight to the elevators, leaving her purse on the floor and her hatred of us all filling the room.