Vincent (Made Men Book 2)

by Sarah Brianne

  Lake took her bag from her mom, confused.

  I always leave it there. Fuck it, I don’t even care. You want him, you can have him. She had already had enough of watching her mother flirt with Vincent. Clearly, she was in the way and she would gladly remove herself from the situation.

  She headed up the stairs, trying to pretend she wasn’t actually hurt that her mother would do that to her. Why would she do that? She had never done anything like that before, but then again she had never introduced her to anyone, even Adalyn.

  Turning down the hall her room was on, she heard someone come up behind her. Run!

  Lake ran down the hallway, afraid John or even Ashley had followed her up. At the end of the hall, she felt someone wrap their arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was.

  Lake was out of breath as she whispered, “You scared me to death, Vinc—”

  Vincent quickly turned her around to face him, still holding her to him. “Why the fuck did you just run?”

  She turned her head, unable to look him in the eye. “You snuck up on me. It just startled me.”

  He grabbed her face and turned her to look at him. “Bullshit! You don’t fucking run from someone in your own house.”

  Looking at his predatory face, she had to keep lying.

  A bad feeling in her gut started to form at how the night could end. It screamed at her that the shit was about to hit the fan.

  “I told you, Vincent, you scared me. I’m just so tired.” She pushed away from him, unwilling to have him continue to hold her. “Now, go on back downstairs. I’ll be down there after I put my bag up.” She picked it up off the floor from where she had dropped it when he had grabbed her.

  “I’m not going down there without you. I told your mom we planned to hang out for a bit.”

  “Y-you want to go in my room?” she asked, her mouth running dry.

  Vincent crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes. Is that a fucking problem?”

  “Well, yes! I didn’t want you here in the first place. I know you stole my phone off me, and now you want to go in my room? I draw the line there.”

  “Why are you making such a big deal out of me seeing your room? If you don’t want me to see it so bad, I’ll wait here for you to put your bag up.” He leaned against the wall.

  Lake looked up at the string that pulled down the steps leading to her attic bedroom. Dammit! She had to make a decision. The closest bedroom to hers was her old one, but it contained workout equipment and she was afraid of him peeking his head inside. If she just admitted to the attic bedroom, it would hopefully be fine because it wasn’t all that weird. Right? It’s a normal thing now. She was going to own her room being in the attic. If she made it a big deal, then he was going to take it as one.

  Reaching up, she went to jump for the string yet missed. Of freaking course. Ashley had cut it way too short the last time. She quickly jumped again, but the tips of her fingers could only brush it.

  “Is your room up there?” he asked, sounding confused.

  “Yes.” Lake laughed it off and went to try to grab it again.

  Vincent came over, stopping her from trying to jump again, and easily grabbed the swinging string to pull it down, revealing the stairs.

  Great, now he’s definitely a god—perfect and tall.

  “Thanks.” She smiled at him as he unfolded the stairs.

  Lake crawled up them, feeling self-conscious until her feet touched the ground and her butt was no longer available for him to view. She hurriedly went to set her bag on her mattress, which rested on the floor, so she could get back down there.

  Lake’s head snapped back when she heard a creak on the stairs and she saw Vincent’s face peering out from the hole on the ground.

  “I-it’s cool, isn’t it?”

  When he fully came up the stairs, he did a three-sixty of the room, his face becoming more horrified and disgusted by the second.

  “Lake, look the fuck around you! Is this really your fucking room?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “Ye—”

  “Grab anything in here that’s fucking important.” He was starting to shake.

  “What? Why?”

  “Now!” he growled at her.

  Lake jumped at his demand and glanced around the dark, sparse room. “T-this is all I-I need.” She put her bag back over her shoulder.

  “Fuck’s sake! That’s all that’s important in here?” He shook his head, pointing down the steps. “Just go back down. I don’t want you taking anything from this fucking place, anyway. There’s probably mold and rat shit all over.”

  “I don’t understand. Where am I going?” She was on the verge of tears at that point.

  Vincent came over and grabbed her hand, taking her to the hole. “You’re fucking leaving, Lake, and you’re not fucking coming back.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  You Better Say Your Prayers, Motherfucker

  She went to argue, but his face scared her against it. There was no winning with the animal standing in front of her right then.

  Tears fell down her cheeks as she crawled back down the steps, her gut sicker than before, telling her the something terrible was going to take place.

  Vincent came down the steps right behind her and looked at the silent tears falling down her face. Reaching for her, he took her face in his hands and wiped the tears away with his thumbs.

  “You can’t stay here, baby. I’m sorry.”

  Lake closed her eyes, trying to stop the crying. “I can’t leave my mo—”

  “She’s no mother to you,” he said as he continued to wipe at the tears. “Can’t you see that? What is she letting John do to you?”

  She couldn’t say anything, unable to lie to him any longer. Nor could she argue against him, as she knew everything he said was true.

  When he saw defeat in her tortured eyes, he placed a tender kiss on her forehead and took her hand. “Come on.”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” John asked, turning the corner with a curious Pam and Ashley.

  “She’s fucking leaving, that’s what.” Vincent took a step forward.

  John started walking toward them. “No, she ain’t. I don’t know what gives you the right to come in my damn house and act like you fucking own it. Get out of here before I call the cops.”

  “Call the fucking cops. Let’s explain why she’s living in an attic. How many bedrooms you got here?” Vincent dropped Lake’s hand and opened the door closest to him, revealing a big room filled with exercise equipment. “Well, here is a perfectly good room she could sleep in.” He stepped forward, giving John a thorough once-over. “I bet you haven’t stepped a fucking foot in this room.”

  John’s face contorted, knowing Vincent was right. “Get the fuck out.”

  “Not a fucking problem.” Vincent grabbed Lake’s hand and started walking down the hall.

  God, please help me.

  Lake thought her heart was going to stop at any moment, and she could hardly breathe. She just wanted Vincent out of there before he did anything she could never forgive him for. At that point, she had to leave with him because if she didn’t, Vincent was going to go one of two ways: he would slaughter them in front of her or leave and bring back the entire Caruso mob to do it.

  As Lake and Vincent started to pass John, he reached for her. “You are not taking tra—”

  Vincent pushed Lake behind him before John could grab her then he slammed John against the wall, pinning him with his arm over his throat. “What the fuck were you going to call her?”

  Lake covered her mouth, unable to allow the screams and cries to escape her throat like her mother and Ashley had done.

  When John didn’t respond, Vincent pressed his arm harder into his throat, cutting off more of his circulation. “Not once have I fucking heard you address her by name. Now. What. The. Fuck. Were you going to call her?”

  “Trailer trash!” John choked out as if he was happy for it to finally be revealed.


  When Pam covered her mouth and gasped like she was shocked, Vincent looked over at her. “Don’t you fucking act surprised. Can you even remember the last time he said her name?”

  “I didn’t kno—”

  “Yes, you did, bitch. You just fucking ignored it and pretended it didn’t happen.”

  With those words, she acted as if he had struck her.

  Vincent started to cut off more of John’s circulation. “What else have you done to her, motherfucker?”

  “Vincent, please!” Lake cried. If he kept going, she was sure John’s head would pop off.

  He gave one more squeeze of John’s throat before letting him fall to the floor where he lay, trying to catch his breath.

  “If I find out you laid a finger on her, I will come back here and slit your goddamn throat.”

  Going up to him, Lake lightly touched his arm, somewhat afraid to touch the rabid animal. “Let’s go. Please, let’s go.”

  “I said you’re not going anywhere. You’re mine, you piece of shit,” John snidely said through rough gasps.

  Vincent kicked him in the teeth in one swift movement. “You better say your prayers, motherfucker, because the only reason I’m not sending you straight to Hell now is because she’s here. You do not own her, and you will never own her. Lake is mine. She will never see you again. Try and you will find out what happens to fuckers who mess with the Caruso family.”

  Clearly satisfied, he grabbed Lake’s shaking hand and went down the hall.

  As he passed a horrified Pam and Ashley, he gave them a warning. “That fucking goes for all of you.”

  Terrified, she let Vincent take her to his car.

  When he got in the driver’s side and started the engine, she was ready to piss herself. She couldn’t see Vincent anymore. In his place was a man she was utterly petrified of. She knew he had a personality problem, but that was the most extreme she had seen him and he had actually admitted he was holding back because of her.

  If this is him holding back, then… One thing was for sure, she needed to get the hell away from scary Vincent.

  “W-where are w-we going?”

  He forcefully squeezed the steering wheel. “Right now, I’m thinking about turning the fuck around.”

  No!

  “D-don’t.” She couldn’t stifle her crying.

  He gritted his teeth. “Why the hell not? You’re already fucking scared of me, so I should at least give you something to be scared about. ” Vincent pulled off the road and put the car in park. “He deserved a lot fucking worse than what I did, Lake. I’m the one who tried to walk away for you. He was the one asking for it by running his goddamn mouth. I’m not stupid. I know you’ve been taking shit for a long time and if I had my way, they would all be fucking dead right now!”

  “I-I know, but she’s my mom, regardless of what she did. She’s my family.” She tried to keep her body from shaking so much while she was wiping away her tears.

  Lake understood it was his fucked-up way of trying to save her, yet she didn’t like this Vincent.

  I never wanted to be saved. She was too afraid the price would be her mother’s head.

  He took a long, deep breath as he smoothed his hair down. “Where is your house?”

  She quickly looked over at him through her watering eyes. “What, my dad’s?”

  “Yes, your dad’s, unless you want me to go back to your mom’s.” He put the car back in drive.

  No way did he need to go to her dad’s if what had just happened would happen again.

  “I don’t want you to go there,” she whispered.

  “Why the fuck not?” His voice started to rise again.

  Because you’ll make me homeless.

  “You just can’t.”

  He went to pull out. “Fine, I’ll fucking take you to mine.”

  “Wait!” Lake quickly grabbed the steering wheel. She thought for a moment, trying to decide whether it was worse to be homeless or virgin-less. “We can go to my dad’s.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  It’s A Crime To Cut Off The Crust

  Lake looked out the car window to see the complete opposite of her mother’s house. They were no longer in the suburbs, but instead a rundown part of the city. The only good thing about the street was it was semi-safe at night since most of the people who lived on it were the hardworking-class of the dirt poor.

  “You aren’t going to leave without coming inside, are you?” She thought she would at least ask.

  “What do you think?” He put the car in park and turned it off.

  Lake took a deep breath. Figured.

  Getting out of his car, she went up the stoop of the dirty-looking condo then pulled her keys out of her bag before putting them in the slot.

  Before she could unlock the door, she turned to Vincent. “Don’t tell my dad about my mom. He doesn’t know anything, and it would kill him to find out.”

  “Just get inside,” he hissed.

  Figured that, too.

  She turned the key and went inside the old condo, letting Vincent in behind her. Shutting the door, she was sure to bolt it before she flipped on the light switches to reveal the dingy place.

  It was as clean as it could get for something so old, needing serious upgrading and repairs. The tiny kitchen held the tiny dinner table, which connected to the tiny living room that contained a loveseat and box TV. Their furniture was all mismatched and old along with their appliances, but to her it was home, and she felt safer there than anywhere else on the planet. The dirty, old, rundown place was her safe haven, and she loved every inch of it.

  She didn’t want Vincent to see it, because then he would look at her the way everyone else did—like a piece of trailer trash. Something stupid in her actually cared about how he thought of her. And now he finally gets to see the real me.

  Unable to look at his face yet, she went down the little hall and knocked on one of three doors, the one which led into her father’s bedroom. When he didn’t answer, she opened the door to find it empty.

  Why isn’t he here?

  “Maybe he’ll be home later,” she said, coming back into the living room and setting her bag down.

  Vincent looked at her sympathetically. “I’m sure he will. Why don’t you come sit down, and I’ll fix you something to eat?”

  She shook her head. “We just ate. I’m not hun—”

  He stopped her, pulling off his jacket and tie then loosening his top buttons. “You didn’t eat shit, because you were worried about touching his fucking precious food. Now, sit the fuck down before you pass out.”

  Her mouth dropped open before she shut it then scooted into the kitchen and sat at the creaky table. She watched Vincent look through the few cabinets and fridge, wondering if he even knew what anything was. She didn’t exactly think he spent much time in a kitchen.

  “Is cereal okay?” he asked, pulling the milk out of the fridge.

  She scrunched her nose. “Um, that’s old.”

  Vincent checked the date to see if she was right then tossed it in the small trashcan. He grabbed a small packet of ramen, which was virtually the only thing left, and looked around the package for a date.

  “I don’t think ramen can get old,” she told him.

  “Really?” He looked over at her like he didn’t believe her.

  “I mean, they make it for college students and poor people, so it can’t go bad because we can never throw food away.”

  Vincent squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Jesus fucking Christ…” he mumbled to himself.

  What? It’s sad but true.

  Finding a small pot in the clean side of the sink, he filled it with water and put it on the stove. Then he grabbed the bag of bread and pulled out the last two slices, which were the crust ends of the loaf.

  “Of course,” he said, tossing them back in the bag to throw away.

  “Whoa, that’s like the best part! I just said we don’t throw food away. My dad would kill you for throwin
g that part away.” Does he even listen to anything I say?

  Vincent stared at her as if she was from outer space. “This is literally crust, the part you cut off the sandwich. No one eats this part.”

  “Maybe where you come from, but here, it’s a crime to cut off the crust. If no one eats it, why would they even put those two slices in? Or why don’t they sell crust-less bread if everyone cuts it off?” Lake raised her eyebrows, waiting for a reply.

  I just blew his mind.

  “Why the fuck is everything you’re saying true? What’s worse, I don’t know if I should be mad or sad about it.” He went to smother the last bit of peanut butter she had on the crust. “I mean, how in the hell is the two slices of complete crust the best part?”

  “Don’t knock it until you try it. It’s surprisingly delicious.”

  Vincent actually smiled a little at the last part as he licked off a dab of peanut butter from his finger.

  Lake found herself in awe of him cooking her food. She really liked watching him because it seemed as if he was human. She had always perceived him as a god. Sure, he still looked like one in her kitchen, but he was doing something normal for once.

  She started smiling at the fact that he actually kind of knew what he was doing, and he was doing it for her. It was sweet. Which is really freaking weird.

  She moved the mail and bills out of the way when he came to put her plate on the table. Picking up her crusty peanut butter sandwich, she started eating.

  He looked in the fridge for something to drink. “You don’t have anything to drink?”

  “There’s glasses in that cabinet, and there’s water that comes out of the sink.” She tried not to choke on her sandwich as she laughed at the last part.

  “I don’t know why I even asked.”

  When he set two glasses of water on the table, she held up her sandwich and smiled at him. “It’s really good.”

  Vincent wrapped his hand around her wrist as he took a big bite out of it. “That is surprisingly delicious.” He managed to take one more small bite before she snatched her hand back.