Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2)

by Elena M. Reyes

  It’s the only way to stay sane while Casper and I are apart. In the three weeks since he left, we’ve made plans and made the effort to keep them. Kept our promises of always talking and no shut-outs.

  For this to work, communication is key.

  But how long can this long-distance relationship work? Will he ask me to move or will he come here?

  Ignoring those plaguing questions, I settle once more and close my eyes. Go back to that last kiss at the airport and remember how at home I felt with him. How right I know we can be for each other if I just trust him not to hurt me.

  It’s what helps me drift off and forget about the rude wake-up call.

  My alarm wakes me up at exactly 7:05 and I glare at the thing while fighting the urge to fling it across the room. I’m tired, hangry, and not in the mood to so much as move a muscle.

  I’m sore, and with that soreness comes a kind of cramping I’m all too familiar with.

  Aunt Flo is here, and that hateful bitch just loves to annoy me. She appeared somewhere between the wrong number calling, the sweeping of the broken lamp, and then my need for water about an hour later. I hate her, and she made her presence known with a series of vengeful, ovary-crushing cramps that had me near crawling, but like the righteous woman I am, I kept it in check and threw back some ibuprofen with water.

  It’s what we are taught to do from the moment this time of the month arrives.

  Throwing my legs over the edge of the mattress, I stand up and stretch my back. It feels tight but eases with every contortion until something pops and I feel the relief. “Much better.”

  Today is a very important day and I have to be on my A-game; a back spasm is the last thing I need.

  After a few more bends and twists, I grab my phone and make my way into the bathroom. There’s a certain playlist that I like to use for days like this, and I open the Spotify app on my phone. Before I do that, though, something else catches my eye.

  There are a few text messages from an unknown number. Ten to be exact, and I click on the first.

  6:00 a.m.

  You will learn your place, little girl. ~Unknown

  What the hell?

  6:03 a.m.

  I don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. ~Unknown

  6:07 a.m.

  You touched what isn’t yours. ~Unknown

  6:10 a.m.

  His blood will be on your hands. ~Unknown

  They go on, each one showing mounting frustration at being ignored. They also bring a feeling of dread to the pit of my stomach. These messages aren’t a mistake.

  They are clearly for me. Evidence that I’m being watched.

  An observation turned reality when I read the very last message sent.

  6:15 a.m.

  A whore just like her mother for a man that’s a known killer. ~Unknown

  The phone slips through my fingers and crashes to the ground, a large crack forming at the upper right-hand corner. This scares me. Brings a series of complications into my life that I don’t know how to handle.

  It’s clear to me that this message came from someone who knew both my mother and father. Of their relationship and my place in that story. I’ve always been kept on the sidelines, but people talk. They know who I am, and all my life have been looked at differently because of who Matteo Cancio is.

  Something that up until today I’ve brushed off and kept going. Not letting him define who I am, but this, this is very different. There’s an underlying threat here. Moreover, they also know of my relationship with Casper—an association that is in its infant stage.

  The question now, though, is who? Who would have the guts to send this?

  I need to tell Casper.

  My first thought is to call him and ask for help. I’m not naïve, nor will I ignore this.

  I know better. I have seen things, even as my mother tried to protect me, that other kids haven’t. My father never hid who he is, and on the rare occasions where he picked me up for a visit or a weekend stay, he never stopped being boss.

  Business is business and to the Cancios, it comes above everything. If it meant making a decision while at the dining room table while his wife glared at me, so be it. If it meant leaving the room and having the cook keep me occupied in the kitchen while profanities were being hurled, so be it. If a sentence had to be carried out somewhere in the backyard of his private estate—deep into the forest behind the property, then so be it.

  I know what being in this life entails and as much as I hate what it represents, the family it took from me, it’s part of me. A part of me I try to ignore, but it’s still there and has come to the forefront now that I’ve been seeing where this connection with Casper goes.

  My second alarm goes off then and I’m pulled from the racing thoughts going through my head. “Shit!” I yell, realizing that in all this craziness I’ve forgotten to get dressed. “Christ, I’m going to be late today of all days.”

  This meeting is too important, has the possibility of a large donation that will help us expand the operation to a possible second state.

  I’ll tell him tonight. Everything will be fine.

  Taking a few deep breaths, I calm myself and then send Aliana a quick text.

  Running late. Explain later. Hold the fort until I arrive. ~Roe

  At once, three dots appear on the screen.

  And the meeting? Are you okay? ~Ali

  Not really, but I’ll explain after. Just keep him there until I arrive. ~Roe

  I got you. ~Ali

  Knowing that’s taken care of, I walk straight into the bathroom and toward the shower. The motion sensor has already picked up my movement, so I quickly strip and turn on the faucet, letting the water run almost scalding before getting in.

  This is a mission-impossible-like situation and I lather, rinse, and repeat faster than I ever thought humanly possible. Once out, I check my phone on the counter for the time and blow out a big breath of air. I have thirty minutes to get dressed and then drive twenty minutes to the home.

  “Clothes. I need clothes.” Running out, I make a beeline for my closet and pull out a retro three-quarter-sleeve pencil dress with a belt in charcoal that I match with a pair of black leather strappy botties with a platform heel. It’s comfortable and cute and after adding a winged liner, leaving my curls down, and adding a nude lip stain, I take a selfie.

  This one is for Casper and goes with a caption: BIG MEETING. WISH ME LUCK!

  I know he’s busy and probably won’t see it right away, but I send it anyway. Hoping he responds in the off chance. At least that’s what I thought because just as I grab my purse, keys, and a bottle of water, my phone rings with his special tone.

  And I’m smiling. A real one.

  “Hello.”

  “Morning.” He sips something, I can make out the sound of ice inside of a cup, and then there’s a groan. It’s low and throaty and will be the death of me. “You look beautiful. Absolutely stunning.”

  My nerves calm at once, and the earlier scare is pushed to the back of my mind until later tonight. “Thank you.” It comes out shy and I feel my face heat up. “It’s a huge meeting, and I’m kind of nervous. It’s the first step into looking for donations to help with our expansion.”

  “I’ll match whatever they give you today.”

  “You sound so sure.”

  “How could anyone say no to you. I know I can’t.” Someone says his name and I know our time is about to end, but it means everything to me that he stopped his day to call. “Sorry about that. My cousin tends to be on the loud side.”

  “It’s okay. I know you’re busy.”

  “I miss you,” Casper says then, taking me by surprise. My lips part, and just as I’m going to tell him that I do too, he continues. “And knock them dead, beautiful. Shine like the precious Gem you are. I’ll call you later tonight.”

  Then he’s gone and I’m still smiling like a loon. He has no idea how much those words mean to me. How much more at ease I feel now.
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  They also serve as a reminder that I need to grab my gun from the safe.

  It’s always better to be safe than sorry and he’d want me to carry.

  “Good morning,” I say, walking into my office and placing my purse atop a small table against the wall before turning to face the occupants. Ali is looking at me with nothing but relief on her face while my could-be donor gives me a smile. “I apologize for being so late, Mr. Asher. Something came up that I was not prepared for and—”

  “No worries, Miss Conte. Things happen.” Grabbing his cup of coffee, he takes a sip and then places it back. “And it’s Malcolm. Please call me Malcolm.”

  Behind him Aliana fans herself and it’s hard, but I do manage to keep my eye roll in. Yes, the man is handsome and exudes a powerful aura that can’t be denied, but I only have eyes for a certain Brit. He haunts me day in and day out without mercy, and I want to keep it that way.

  I extend a hand, which he takes and then shakes it. “Then please call me Aurora.”

  “Deal.” He sits back and regards me quietly, and I take that as my cue to move this meeting along. A man like Malcolm Asher doesn’t like to waste time.

  “Speaking of…?” I trail off as I take a seat behind my desk, matching his cool demeanor.

  “Right to the point, Aurora. I appreciate that.” Malcolm nods and pulls out a folded piece of paper that resembles a check from the inside of his suit jacket. He places it atop my desk and then pushes it forward in my direction. “If you need more, please don’t hesitate to ask. No questions asked.”

  “I don’t understand.” For a split second I look over to where Aliana was a minute ago and find her gone and my office door closed.

  “Go on. Open it and ask your questions.”

  Picking up the paper, I unfold and read. “Why?” It’s all I can think to ask as I take in the half a million-dollar check in my hand. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Look at me, Aurora.” And I do, completely flabbergasted and unsettled; I know my expression mirrors this. “There’s a reason I am doing this, and her name is London Foster, although her rightful last name is Conte.”

  “Wait, what? Who is London Fos—”

  “She’s your cousin, Aurora,” he says softly, but to me it’s as if he’s shouting the words right into my ear. “Your uncle Julian had a daughter with his wife, Amelia.”

  “He had…has a daughter?” And I believe him. I grew up hearing that name from time to time—from my mother and grandmother while alive—and how sad they were because of a choice she made. Christ, my head is spinning, and nothing makes sense, but I also can’t deny that hearing this makes me smile. A smile that falls just as quickly and I voice my next thought. “But why would my mother hide this from me?”

  “Amelia was in a very abusive relationship, Aurora, and out of concern for her daughter, she made your mother promise to stay away. To not get involved, although she did communicate with her every chance she got. It was your mother who helped her change her will and accounts over to London before she died.”

  I nod, understanding more than he can ever imagine; I see the damage abuse leaves behind every single day. “Is London safe now?”

  “She’s with me.”

  “With you?” Is he saying that…

  “London is my life.” And now it all makes sense. She’s his girlfriend, because had he married anyone, the entire state of Chicago would know. This most eligible bachelor has a following.

  “Does she know about me? About her family?” I can’t stop the tears that spring to my eyes, not when the only family I have left on my mother’s side was being abused and I couldn’t help. Didn’t know she needed me. “When can I meet her?”

  “Not yet, but I’m sure she will be in contact soon.” Malcolm scratches his jaw and then looks down at the watch on his wrist. “I’m not hiding this from her.”

  “Thank you.” It’s the least I can say, but those words carry all of my gratitude.

  “All I ask is that you’re there for her, Aurora. She’s going to need you.” His eyes are on mine as he says this and, in that moment, I see the other side of him people whisper about. He loves her and is protective. Won’t tolerate bullshit when it comes to her.

  And that just earned him my respect.

  21

  I STARE AT the picture she sent me an hour ago one last time, ignoring Malcolm’s confirmation that my wire has been completed before pocketing my mobile and exiting the car. I know he’s going to see her today; her guard was able to slip inside her office undetected while she went to the on-site kitchen for lunch and saw his name in her planner. It’s how I learned of a few interesting facts after having Ezra look into this for me.

  Learned just how tiny this world is.

  My girl has a cousin, and my friend is completely taken by her. And it’s that small fact that kept me from forgetting our friendship and making a pit stop in Chicago to put a bullet in his brain. He’s like a brother to me, but when it comes to Gem, I’d burn the world to the ground for her.

  Two car doors close a few seconds after mine, and my men fall in line on this sunny East Coast day as I walk up a pathway that leads to an Ocean City property. We’re in New Jersey, and the owner doesn’t know I’m here.

  Not one person can pinpoint my location, and it will stay that way as I hunt down Mum’s killers.

  Not even a friend I have in town who’s providing me with the facility I’ll be using for today’s meeting. He knew I’d need it, but not when, and said it was mine for whenever I decide.

  Well, today is that day.

  “Sir,” Archie, a new guard recommended by Jeffrey, calls my name. He’s his childhood best friend and an ex-British soldier in need of work with connections that are valuable, especially with the changes that are coming soon to our business.

  I pause, tilting my head but don’t look back. “Speak.”

  “Sir, we have confirmation that our guest hasn’t left the house since yesterday around eight. He’s alone while the new wife is in the Dominican Republic vacationing with girlfriends.”

  “I see.” There is a few-days-old beard on my face at the moment and I rub my chin. “Is there an ex-wife and kids?”

  “They live in an apartment complex in Patterson where her older brother and mum also have apartments. She’s also had to take a minimum-wage job, working overnights at a gas station to make ends meet since he barely passes her a hundred fifty a week.”

  “What’s his net worth?” Because with its size and location two blocks from the beach, this home is easily worth more than seven hundred and fifty thousand.

  “Bank statement shows a balance of three hundred thousand, but if we add cars and homes, probably a low million.”

  I turn my head to look back at Archie. “Transfer every last bloody cent to the children’s mother.”

  “It shall be done,” he vows and pulls out his mobile, shooting a quick message to Jeffrey, who is awaiting orders with my hacker in London. It pings a few seconds later and he shows me the screen, confirming my thoughts.

  Ezra is already on it. We were awaiting confirmation to proceed. ~Jeffrey

  Pocketing the device, he takes his place slightly behind Callum who’s been silent. There’s something bugging him—he’s been off since the last time we were in Chicago—and we haven’t had time to talk.

  But I see it in behind the deep pull of his eyebrows and tense posture.

  Meeting his eyes, I raise a brow, silently asking if he’s good. If he’s focused.

  His reply comes in the form of a nod and tap to his chest with a closed fist.

  Nothing else is said as I turn my head and continue up the path with my gun in hand. It’s a sweltering day and I’m glad I dressed down for this occasion. No suit or tie or cuff links—instead, I brought with me a pair of denim trousers and a pullover, both in black. Easier to hide any stains that might come about before we leave.

  There are two steps onto a small porch that lead to his door and I don�
��t pause to knock. Raising my foot, I land a solid kick to the wooden structure and send it flying backwards and into the home. It rings loud throughout the silent room, and then we have a commotion upstairs.

  Two screams. Two male voices call out to each other at the same time from opposite ends of the second floor and then rush toward the center stairway with weapons drawn.

  Two bullets from my gun and the one I’m not here for falls to the ground with a neck and chest wound. He’ll bleed out while I deal with this arsehole.

  “Who the fuck!” the other yells, switching between panic and worry for the man slowly dying beside his feet. “Luis, get up. I need you to get up, pana.”

  The man coughs, the spittle red and running down the side of his cheek and onto the floor. This action repeats itself as breathing becomes difficult and his throat cannot perform the simple function of swallowing.

  He’s choking. Gagging on his life’s essence.

  And then he stops and the man I came here looking for screams, an agonized sound that brings a smile to my face. It gets the blood pumping harshly through my system. Excites me.

  If there are two things in this life that can get me hard, it’s the thought of my Gem’s pussy and the blood that drips from an enemy’s veins.

  Seeing their life slip away.

  “You have two minutes to come down those stairs.” At the sound of my voice, his head snaps up and so does the shit-for-an-excuse gun in his hand. “I’d be very careful with that, mate.”

  “Hijo de puta, I’m going to...fuck!” The gun is no longer in his hand but on the floor, courtesy of Callum who lets out a low chuckle.

  “Oi, my apologies, bro. My finger slipped.”

  My eyes shift to his amused face. “I’m going to start calling you butterfingers.”

  “I’m not that bad.” Callum shrugs and I roll my eyes, looking back at the man bleeding from a hole in his hand.

  “You only have a few seconds left, Felix.”

  “Who are you?” he screams, but I see his intent, taking a few steps back. The cunt wants to run. “What do you want?”