Blood Script

by Airicka Phoenix

  Cora’s chest muscles tightened, a faint flutter that didn’t last as James pressed on.

  “Here’s how this is going to go, you’ve seen your daughter. You’ve seen she’s unharmed. You’re going to invite me to dinner, just the four of us, where we are going to discuss Cora’s continued survival and our future together.”

  “You have some nerve—”

  “What I have, Mr. De Marco, is full control over this situation,” James cut in sharply. Cold steel glinted in his eyes, a warning as frigid and brittle as an arctic squall. It lashed over the crowd with serrated tips. “There isn’t a move you can make that I haven’t already utilized, analyzed, and countered. We will have dinner and you will listen to what I have to say or this will be the very last time you see your daughter.”

  Cora shuddered.

  No one noticed.

  “Dinner sounds nice,” Elise cut in, speaking up for the first time. “I can call Jerome and let him know there will be one more—”

  “No.” While dismissive, James’s tone was gentler when addressing her mother. “I’ve taken it upon myself to book us a table at Raj.” His gaze slanted sideways towards Cora. “Cora’s favorites.”

  How he knew that was beyond her. But then again, he seemed to know everything there was to know about her. She wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that, especially considering she knew next to nothing about him.

  “Very well.” Giovanni returned the gun to its place inside his coat. “You can follow us there.”

  “Cora will be riding with me,” said James smoothly, before her father could usher them to the car.

  “Absolutely not!”

  James met Giovanni’s furious glower with a patient one of his own, never wavering, never so much as batting an eyelash.

  “My wife will be riding with me,” he repeated slower, pronouncing each word carefully.

  For a full, tense moment, no one moved. It seemed to take that long for the full impact of his announcement to set in; Cora wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her parent’s look so stunned.

  “That’s one of those things we can discuss over dinner.” James stated, putting his palm out towards Cora. “Come.”

  She hesitated for just a second, a second where she debated whether or not to try and explain the situation. But her hand had already slipped itself into the devil’s palm without her consent.

  No one moved to stop them as James turned and started for the car. Nicholas waited until they’d crossed ten steps before pivoting on his heels and following. The others remained where they were, their confusion and concern a heavy blanket smothering the chill.

  At the car, James opened the passenger’s side door for her and let her slide in. He closed it behind her and turned to his first mate. They exchanged words Cora couldn’t hear, but from the look of outrage on Nicholas’s face, whatever it was, hadn’t been part of the plan.

  “What is it?” she asked when only James got in behind the wheel.

  “Nothing.” He slammed his door closed. “Seatbelt.”

  Cora reached for the safety harness and dragged it over her lap.

  “Where’s Nicholas going?”

  The man was jogging down the slight incline and trudging into the woods.

  “He’s going to catch a ride back to the ship with the other men.”

  She wanted to ask what other men. She couldn’t see any. But he’d already stuffed the key into the ignition and was starting the car.

  Cora got one final glimpse of her parents climbing into the back of the Lincoln before they were doing a U-turn in the middle of the road and turning back towards the city.

  “I wish you’d let me explain,” she murmured, slumping in her seat. “I don’t like leaving them like that. I could have eased them into it.”

  “I don’t need to ease them into anything.” He shot his rearview mirror a quick glance. “They don’t deserve anything from me, especially not your father. The only reason you’re here at all is because I allowed it. I could have met with your father alone and he would never have seen you. But I allowed it for you.”

  Cora peered at his side profile, the deep angles of his beautiful face, the firm set of his mouth, the hard furrow of his brows. She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him to be that close to the man he thought hurt his sister. He was certainly hiding it well, even if his anger was suffocating the air in the car.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, wanting to reach out and touch the tension in his shoulders, but knowing it wouldn’t be welcomed.

  He flicked her with a quick peek from the corner of his eye. “Don’t thank me. Do not mistake my indulging you for weakness, or kindness, Cora. These are debts that you will be paying back in whatever manner I wish.”

  She nodded, having already accepted that. “I know, but it doesn’t mean I can’t thank you.”

  He said nothing for a long stretch of time. Trees and road blurred past them in a rush, carrying them further and further away from her family. It took all her restraint not to look back, knowing she couldn’t handle not seeing them in the rear window.

  “Are we really going to have dinner at Raj?” she asked after a moment of silence.

  “Yes.”

  “I like Raj,” she murmured, needing to fill the silence he seemed to relish in.

  “I know.”

  Why was it so hard to get him to talk? Why couldn’t he just say something? His sullen existence was painful to endure.

  “You’re not going to goad my father into shooting you again, are you?”

  “I didn’t goad him this time. He drew the gun.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t have to urge him to shoot you.” Her voice rose with every word as the anxiety of that moment returned to hit her. “What if he had? What if he’d shot you in the face? You can’t come back from that.”

  “Would you have really cared?”

  Cora blinked. “Of course I would have. I may not like you, but it doesn’t mean I want you dead.”

  He hummed quietly. “That is almost sweet.”

  Cora rolled her eyes. “You seem to have this death wish—”

  “It’s not a wish,” he cut in. “It’s a fact of life in my world. Do you honestly think that was the first time I’ve been threatened with a gun?”

  No. She supposed it wouldn’t be.

  “But telling him to shoot you...”

  “I knew he wouldn’t.”

  “No, you didn’t!” she snapped. “You couldn’t possibly. He’s my father and even I was terrified...” she broke off to compose herself and lower the high shrill in her voice. “You’re not allowed to be shot in front of me.”

  His head turned briefly, one eyebrow raised. “Get shot, but not in front of you. Is that the new agreement?”

  “Well, I don’t want you to get shot at all, but since you seem so hell bent on it.” She blew out a lungful of air and turned towards the window. “Just don’t be stupid like that again in front of me.”

  “Speaking of stupid, if you ever put yourself between me and a gun again, I will put you over my knee and spank you until you can’t walk for a week, do you understand?”

  Cora pursed her lips when her ass cheeks actually tingled at the threat. “Well, you don’t get guns pointed at you while I’m around and I won’t get in the way.”

  He barked a steely laugh. “No, this isn’t a negotiation. Stay the hell out of the path of all bullets meant for me. I won’t tell you again.”

  There was no arguing with him. He’d made up his mind.

  “Fine.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  James chose to ignore the lie.

  He focused instead on the road and the black Lincoln racing up behind them; they must have had the pedal right to the floor to have caught up that quickly.

  Maybe they didn’t trust he would keep his word.

  Maybe they were worried he’d take their daughter to some hidden part of the world and they would never see her again.

  Wh
atever the reason, he kept his own speed steady. He wasn’t going to risk his life, or Cora’s, trying to prove something.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Cora’s interruption of his concentrating silence caused him to blink. His gaze darted off the rearview mirror to her, then back to the road.

  “Tell you what?”

  “That we were going to meet my parents today.” She shifted in her seat to face him. “Do you know how much drama you could have saved us both? All that stuff this morning, my ass hurting ... avoidable. I mean, even when we were talking about it, you never once said—”

  “Because I didn’t need to.” He flicked a glance at the mirror, at how close the Lincoln was getting to his ass. “I don’t need to run my plans by you.”

  She was quiet just long enough to make the back of his neck prickle.

  “You’ve never been married before, have you?”

  The question creased his brows. “What?”

  “Unless this is a temporary arrangement, your business is my business. Marriage is a partnership. We talk things out and make plans together.”

  “It’s not that kind of marriage.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What do you want from me then if not a partner?”

  He ignored the plume of hurt that seemed to be coming from the seat next to his. “I want you to be a wife. Loyal, respectful, and dutiful.”

  Her eyebrows crinkled. “Dutiful? Like bear your children?”

  That hadn’t even crossed his mind, but faced with it now, he had to repress the urge to shudder.

  “No children.”

  She blinked. “You don’t want children?” A muscle clenched around her jaw. Her eyes hardened. “Or you don’t want children with me?”

  It was the latter. As much as he wanted her, and lord help him, he fucking wanted her, her blood was tainted with that of a psychopath’s. How could he have children with the daughter of a man who ruined his sister, destroyed his family, stole his entire life? Fucking her was one thing, but he wouldn’t bring a child into that line.

  “No children,” he repeated. “You will be a wife. A crime lord wife. A dutiful wife. I know you know what that means. Your mother is one.”

  The term, behind every great man is a greater woman was a solid fact in the crime world.

  The women were the glue.

  The foundation on which an empire was built.

  They were the sweet talkers.

  The coordinators.

  The brains of the operation.

  One seductive whisper and they could send their men to war for them.

  They could mend political fences with a single dinner.

  A good wife, a perfect crime boss wife held her husband up, protected him, cherished him, obeyed him.

  In return, he would shed blood for her, die for her, take over worlds for her. The perfect powerhouse couple was the one who conquered together with a united face.

  Elise Harris was famous for that.

  She cleaned up Giovanni’s messes.

  She kept his secrets.

  She worked the strings from behind the curtains.

  She was the queen of high society who could bake cookies in the morning and plan a funeral in the evening. Without her, he was nothing more than a ruthless murderer who had no qualm about brutally slaughtering children.

  She made him likeable.

  She made him memorable.

  She masked his transgressions from the public.

  She made his shit smell like roses.

  That was what a crime boss wife did.

  “I don’t know how to be that,” Cora whispered. “I never wanted ... it’s not me.”

  “You’re going to have to learn,” he told her flatly.

  There wasn’t another word exchanged between them the rest of the way. They pulled out of the wilderness and back into the city just in time to watch it come to life with lights. The evening rush thickened the deeper they merged with the dinner crowd. The restaurant district was choked with people and cars. It was nearly impossible to navigate. But they reached their destination just in time to make their reservation.

  James found a parking spot at the back and pulled in.

  “Should we wait—”

  “No.”

  He unfurled from his seat and skirted the back to her side. He opened her door and offered her his hand. She accepted and he tugged her out.

  “I’d like to wait for my parents,” she insisted once she stood in the damp parking lot with him. “They’re just behind us.”

  “You haven’t had breakfast,” he reminded her. “You haven’t had lunch. It’s now six o’clock and you haven’t had anything to eat or drink all day. We’re not waiting.”

  He took her elbow and guided her around the side of the building to the front.

  Indian had always had to be carefully approached where James was concerned. The rich textures and spices never failed to keep him locked in the lavatory for days afterwards, but he could eat it in moderations, so long as he stayed away from the really spicy dishes.

  He’d never been to Raj. The elaborate replica of an Indian palace had always struck him as too fancy for his taste. Burgers and fries were his main go-tos. But Cora loved the place. He wasn’t entirely sure why it mattered as much as it seemed to, except that he’d wanted her to enjoy her first evening off the ship in a week.

  He prayed to God he wasn’t going soft. He couldn’t handle that shit.

  Their hostess led them to their table, an out of the way, tucked in the corner booth he’d been very specific about. He wanted absolute privacy, a feat when the place was already packed for the dinner rush.

  “We have two more coming,” he told her before she could scurry off. “Just send them over.”

  The hostess smiled politely and promised she would. Then she vanished into the crowd and James turned to Cora.

  He helped her with her coat, then made sure she took the seat with her back to wall. He draped her coat over the back and took the seat next to her with his coat still on.

  “I still think we could have waited,” Cora grumbled. “They were right behind us.”

  “They’re not my concern.”

  Hazel eyes met his. “But I am? I’m nothing more than a glorified fuck toy with minimal wife options.”

  He didn’t know how to explain to her that he didn’t need a cook, or a maid. That he didn’t need someone to care for his house or raise his children. He needed a buffer. He needed a wall between him and Bishop, between him and De Marco. Fucking her was just an added bonus.

  Somehow, he doubted she’d take any of that kindly.

  “Do you really want children with me?” he asked instead.

  Her cheeks went pink and she avoided his eyes, but she shrugged. “I’ve always wanted children. I always thought I’d have a couple with the man I married, which happens to be you. I get that our relationship is severely fucked up, but if I’m in this for the rest of my life ... I can’t be just this. I can’t simply be a pretty face who can throw lavish tea parties and keeps her vagina waxed to please you. I want a family. I want a home. I want babies and a husband I care about. I want ... love.”

  She said the latter so quietly he almost didn’t hear it over the clang and clatter of silverware.

  “You made a mistake.” Her eyes shone bright in the soft, golden light. “I can’t do this forever. I can’t ... I won’t be your prisoner for the rest of my life.”

  “You will be for as long as I say,” James said, never one to be given an ultimatum. “We have an agreement. The moment you break that agreement, all bets are off. I told you, this isn’t a negotiation. You have no rights. It’s what I say, for as long as I say.”

  Fire sparked behind her gaze, mirroring the defiant rise of her chin. “I’m not asking for your love, Captain. I’m not asking for you to be a warm, loving husband. I’ve accepted that you’re incapable of such things. But I will not join you in that darkness. One way or another, I will have the lif
e I’ve always dreamed of, with or without you.”

  He disliked the implication in her subtle threat. He disliked the hidden meaning woven tastefully into each word. It was enough to make him want to haul her from the restaurant, drive her back to the ship and tie her to the bed for the rest of her life, especially if she had any notion that she would ever have a family with another man.

  “What are you implying, Cora?”

  He kept his voice calm, quiet, but even he felt the razor sharp drag of frozen fingers skating down his spine as each word crackled into the air between them.

  “I’m not implying anything,” she replied with a snide little curve of her lip. “But if I were, it wouldn’t be your business. You’ve already established that we make our own plans, live our own lives.”

  He felt his fingers tightening along the edges of the table. “You have no plans. You have no life that I don’t allow you.”

  “Of course, because I’m a prisoner.” But it was the way she said it, as if it made no difference one way or another, she would get what she wanted. “They’re here.”

  James never looked away from her, from the face she kept deliberately averted from his as though he were no longer of any importance.

  “Careful, sweetheart,” he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. “I’ve only so far shown you my good side.”

  Her face blossomed into a wide smile as her parents joined them, but it was edged with fine blades when her head tipped ever so slightly in his direction.

  “So have I ... sweetheart.”

  Her parents reached the table and she rose quickly, breaking her battle of wills against his. James watched as she hurried to her mother and embraced the woman again. The two exchanged words he couldn’t hear and laughed as they pulled apart.

  De Marco settled a hand on each Cora and Elise’s backs and guided them back to the table. He pulled his wife’s chair out.

  James rose and did the same for Cora. But he didn’t regain his seat.

  “Why don’t you ladies order while we have a quick drink at the bar.”

  It wasn’t placed as a question, nor did he wait for an answer when he rounded to the other man’s side.