23
“HOW WONDERFUL IT IS that you’re still here, Aurora.” The last person I thought I’d see says as my foot hits the bottom step. Our eyes meet and at once I’m taken back to all those years of attitude—mistreatments and not-so-subtle jabs at my mother and me. Matteo’s ex-wife stands right at the entrance to a smaller sitting area to the right of the door, waiting, her look calculating in that fake fondness she’s forcing as an expression. “It’s been too long since you’ve come to visit us.”
I don’t miss her emphasis on the word us.
“My apologies, Samantha…I’ve just been so busy with work.” Matching her bullshit act of decorum, I walk up and give her a kiss on the cheek and pull back. “How have you been? Are you here looking for Dad?”
“No. I came to see you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Can’t a stepmother—”
“How about we get a little more comfortable?” Walking past her, I step into the small living space and take a seat on one of the oversized chairs, motioning for her to sit across from me. She follows a few seconds later, taking a pretentiously demure seat with a smile on her face. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Okay then.” Crossing my legs, I let my true emotions come through my expression. No more sugar coating or playing pretend. “What do you want, Samantha? You never cared then, and you don’t now, so let’s stop the games, shall we?”
“You were always so rude.”
“And you’ve always been a horrible actress.” Narrowing my eyes, I stare her down. “Again, what do you want?”
“Fine.” The smile drops from her face and the sourness I’ve been accustomed to takes its rightful place. “Did he name you his heir?”
And there it is. Just like I asked him all those months ago in a hotel lobby back in London.
Asked him if she knew. What did the mother to his non-bastard child think?
Because deep down I know she cares. Wants it for Lucas.
“Where is my brother, by the way? I would’ve liked to see him this trip.”
“Answer the question.”
“Ask your ex-husband. I owe you no explanation on my life.”
“Listen, I’m doing this for your own good.” Samantha sits forward then, pulling out a manila envelope from her oversized purse. With her eyes on mine, she pulls out a set of pictures and places each one face up atop the small coffee table between us. “I might not be the warmest or most caring person in the world, but I’m not the asshole you think I am. Your father is under investigation for the murder of a senator that was found dead over five years ago near the harbor. They are looking into everything he owns and are itching to pin this on him one way or another, Aurora. Don’t get yourself caught up in something that will destroy you and your mother’s legacy. Leave while you can and don’t look back.”
I don’t say anything, and she walks out of the room just the same. My eyes are on the photos staring back at me of a dead body, a man in his mid-forties who looks to be entering decomposition. Then, while holding in my urge to gag, I look at the next three and they are all candid photographs of Lucas and her while out doing random things. They are being watched, and it reminds me of the messages I received.
Is this what that was about? Am I under investigation because of my familial ties?
But why mix Casper into this?
The thoughts plaguing me from all sides are making my temples throb, and I can’t help but look back at my brother’s face. He’s just a kid—innocent and without any stress on his shoulders. It’s how every kid should be at his age.
Two things become very clear to me then:
I know what my decision will be, and I can’t stay here.
I see him before he sees me.
It also doesn’t surprise me to find him here, my eyes finding his body facing my living room window as he stares out calmly, without hiding. But then again, the man’s impossible to miss. Unafraid to impose his presence.
He’s over six feet of solid muscle and tattoos and an aura that draws you in. A charisma that’s held me captive since we met months ago.
Christ. It’s been months since that night. Since I gave in, knowing the consequences. And it’s that same attraction that makes me come a little closer while making little to no noise.
He’s deep in thought and ignorant to my eyes. Casper Jameson stands with his back to me and wearing what looks to be a plain white shirt. It’s tight to his back, every hard muscle beneath pronounced. Something that makes my mouth water and thighs clench, but I ignore it. That burn. That need.
My eyes shift to his arm and I follow the curve of a tattoo that looks new, but it’s a symbol I recognize.
His newest addition is an Ouroboros and I do admire the uniqueness, the way the entire body of a large snake wraps itself around his entire arm and then disappears near the front of his hand. It’s bold and done in black and white from my viewpoint, but I’m curious about the head and it’s placement. I want to know how the finished interpretations looks; a snake eating its tail.
Death and rebirth in a never-ending cycle.
The early evening sunlight is diminishing as the sun sets, but for now it’s hitting just right. Makes the intricate design pop against his lightly tanned skin. Skin, that shows his time out in the sun recently.
It enhances his appeal. The corded muscle rippling down his arm as he clenches both hands.
Casper takes in a deep breath while tilting his head to the side. His dirty blond hair is longer than the last time we were together, and it sweeps across his temple. He doesn’t speak, waiting, but I’m in no rush.
I need my wits about me and to ask the right questions, and for it to be a successful talk, I should have a clear head. Too much has happened, and I need to process. To not demand and listen to what he has to say.
He’s here for a reason, and I want to know why.
Hope that he’s honest with me.
“Go ahead and yell, Gem. I deserve it.” His voice is low, so low I almost miss it.
“I’m not going to scream.” Leaving my carry-on by the coat closet, I turn and close my front door. Then, after a deep breath in and out, I take a few steps closer. Just a few. I stop in front of my couch while leaving him on the other side of the room with plenty of furniture between us. “To be honest, I’m so exhausted and drained that I’m not sure I’m ready to talk. Just tell me how you got in?”
“Paid a locksmith I know a hefty amount to do me a favor.”
A sardonic chuckle leaves me. “At least you’re honest.”
Casper turns around then, his bright green eyes boring into mine. “I’ve never lied to you. Things have been hectic, and a promise made has interfered with my plans for us, but I am working on it, Aurora. You’re always on my mind.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“And that’s my fault. I’m so sorry, love.”
Nodding, I play with the soft blanket strewn across a few decorative pillows. “What happened, Casper?”
“Can we discuss this after? I need you.”
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
Three little words, but they rub me wrong. Anger me.
“Where the hell were you when I received...” I trail off, regretting my emotional mistake. More so when his brows furrow and lips thin. When he takes a step in my direction.
“What do you mean by that, Gem? Explain.” His tone is hard, and his steps are loud within the confines of my home. The shift in him is instantaneous, an angry undercurrent that sings through my every limb as I back away and begin to move toward the back of my couch. It’s a barrier. A way to put distance and think clearly. “Answer me.”
My eyes narrow. “Don’t use that tone with me, Jameson. I don’t work for you.”
“No. Clearly you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I hiss between clenched teeth, hands gripping the back of the sofa. “
Is that some kind of a sexist joke? Like women aren’t meant to lead or hang with the big boys?”
“Not at all. My mum had a better shot than my dad.” And I’m so lost in my moment of indignation that I lose focus as he stops on the other side of the couch. His knee dips into the cushion, the leather groaning under his weight as he positions himself facing me and kneeling. Closer. Almost touching. “That just meant you’re not afraid of me.” He’s quick, and before I move back, Casper’s fisting my shirt in his hand and pulling me down, so our faces are but a hair’s breadth away. I also don’t miss the way he grits his teeth at the move.
“Are you hurt?” I ask, already lifting a trembling hand to check him. My heart can’t take anything happening to him no matter how much he’s pissing me off today. “And don’t think about lying either.”
“Clean shot through my arm. It missed the bone and no fragments were left inside.”
“Am I supposed to be okay with this?”
“Not at all, but I need you to trust my word. I’m okay, sweetheart.” At my are you kidding me right now look, he shakes his head. “I’ll show you my medical report if it’ll help ease your mind.”
Nodding, I let out a heavy sigh. Knowing this comes with the territory. It’s always a possibility. “I want a copy of it.”
“Done. Now, about my earlier clarifications...”
“Yes.”
“All I was stating is that people know their place when it comes to me. They’re not defiant.”
“Should I know mine?” I lick my bottom lip and he follows the movement, his hunger undisguised. “Should I just be a good girl and behave? Is that what you want?”
“No. Never.” He leans forward, lips skimming over mine. “I like you wild and sassy and never want you to hold back.” Another kiss, softly, before his teeth scrape down to my chin where he bites down. “Now, it’s your turn to explain what you meant.”
“You’ll need to let me go so I can do that.” I huff, swallowing back a moan while avoiding his intense gaze. Instead, I trail my eyes down his arm for an up-close view of the snake’s head of his tattoo. It’s large and encompasses his hand, wrist, and forearm—the body wrapping around his flesh and then meeting on his hand as the mouth bites down on the tail. Like the rest of the piece, the color scheme doesn’t change, except for the eyes. Those hypnotizing small orbs stare back at me with the same shade of hazel as mine.
Is this saying I’m his rebirth?
“Why?” There’s a minuscule tinge of amusement in his tone which indicates I didn’t do as good a job hiding my natural response to his everything. To the ink on his skin that symbolizes a change in him. Possibly us. “I like you just like this.”
“And I need my phone.” Releasing his hold, he fixes my shirt before using his pointer finger to push me back a bit. He doesn’t say anything, and I take that as my opening. My cell is inside my purse, and I walk over to the closet where I left my belongings and pull it out. Turning back to face him, I run into his chest, not having heard him move. I’m distracted. Mind overworking and exhausted. “Sorry.”
Casper holds his hand out with a small smile. “Your mobile, Gem.” I unlock the screen and hand it over, watching how his facial expression goes from one extreme to the next. From sexy grin to absolute fury. “You should’ve called me the fucking moment these came in. What were you thinking? What if something—”
“Get out.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.” Snatching my phone from his hand, I take the remaining steps to the door and yank it open. “Now isn’t the time for a fight. I’m tired and exhausted, regretting my trip to Boston, and before either of us says something unforgivable, we should walk away.”
“Aurora, we need to—”
“I’m not asking you, Casper. I need space…time to reevaluate a few things.”
“What’s that supposed to mean,” he asks, tone less acerbic. Casper also doesn’t back down, stepping right into my personal space, pressing his body against mine. “And I’m not angry at you. Am I disappointed you didn’t come to me? Yes, but I’m more concerned by those messages than anything else.”
“And you think I wasn’t? I needed you.”
“Then why not tell—”
“How do you communicate with someone who isn’t there?” Whatever anger he holds evaporates. Metaphorically, it breaks into a thousand tiny shards at my feet. “I didn’t take those texts lightly or as a joke...the people who sent them know my family and me. They seem to not want me with you.”
“You know who sent them?”
I nod. “I was made aware of an investigation—”
“Into who?”
“My father.”
“On what charges.”
“Murder.”
“I see.” That’s all he says, and it rubs me wrong, as if he’s privy to something I’m not. It’s also another reminder of how little he shares back.
“What does ‘I see’ mean?”
“Your father will be fine, Gem.” This confirms that he knows—has known of my familial ties all along. It also shows just how thorough his investigation into me was. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
My smile in response is small and sad. “Can you save me from you?” From the heartbreak you’ll bring? Casper opens his mouth to reply, but I silence him by standing on the tip of my toes and pressing my lips to his. It’s soft and everything I need and hate. It’s also over quickly as I pull back before he can wrap me in his arms and deepen the kiss. “I’m going to need some space.”
“Gem, I—”
“Please.” He doesn’t like it but nods. “I’ll call you when I’m ready to talk.”
“I’ll be in Chicago for a few days.” That’s all he says before proving to me once again why walking away is an impossibility. Grabbing the waistband of my yoga pants, he gives it a hard tug and I’m back in his hold—being held possessively as his mouth slants over mine. Passion ignites and burns me. His mouth devours mine in an almost brutal way and I welcome the sting, the torture as he takes and I give in, until I can’t breathe. Until he takes mercy on me and pulls back. “I’ll be waiting.”
“I promise to call you soon.”
“And I promise to always listen. I won’t make this mistake twice.”
24
I KNOW WHO she is the moment she steps a foot inside of my office at the Conte House three days later. Christ, there’s no denying our family’s genes. London Foster has my complexion, hair color, and even the slightly fuller lips that everyone this side of the family has.
And we’re the last two alive to pass it on to another generation.
It’s a sobering and sad fact, but I can’t deny how much seeing her means to me. How much I look forward to getting to know her.
“Hi,” she says, voice shy and smiling, extending a hand for me to shake while the woman with her takes a stand outside the door. From the looks of her, I think she’s my cousin’s security. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I reply and take the offered hand, pulling her in so I can give her a hug. Furthermore, the moment we do, it brings tears to my eyes and I hear her sniffle, and instead of pulling back, we hold on tighter. Just a little longer, while a piece of my heart gets mended. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you came by today. I’ve been dying to meet you since Malcolm—”
“Came and spilled the beans?” London finishes for me, laughing at the truth in that. She pulls back from me but keeps my hands in hers, giving them each a squeeze. There’s happiness in her face and an honest look of appreciation for this opportunity that has to mirror my own.
We are just two women who lost all we had, our mothers, and were navigating through life missing a link—a bond to the past that will help cement the future. But now we can have that. We’ll have each other to keep the Conte legacy alive.
“More like he welcomed me to the family.”
“He didn’t!
”
“Totally did in his own sort of gruff-ish way before leaving this office.”
“Dear God.” Her giggle is loud and boisterous, and she lets go of my hands to wipe at the few stray tears that have fallen. “I’m sorry.” Another bubble of laugher. “He’s just something else and very determined to lay the world down at my feet. I hope he didn’t upset you or was rude while vetting you.”
I shake my head, my own smile widening. “So, what you’re saying is he’s one of the good ones?”
“Absolutely…wait…is it Aurora, or can I nickname you? Because you look like a Roe-Roe to me.”
“Go for it. Roe-Roe works for me, but then I get to call you Lo-Lo,” I chuckle, her bubbliness reminding me so much of my mother when excited. “I was only ever called Aurora as a child when in trouble, and that was often. I’m too curious for my own good at times, or so I’ve been told.”
“Tell me more. I want to know all about the family I never knew.”
“That might take years.”
“Good thing I have all the time in the world.” London gets a pensive look and then walks out the door to her guard. She says something to her quietly and then comes back in after the woman gives her a nod. “Are you hungry?”
“You’re kidding! That’s how you two met?” I ask London after almost spitting out my Long Island; we’re sitting inside of a sports bar not that far from my apartment and catching up, giving each other little tidbits of information that describe our personas. That show just how similar we are. “You were a private dancer...with a pole and everything? Not judging, by the way...” I tack on, not wanting her to get the wrong impression “...because I’ve been thinking about taking one of those classes as a surprise for someone.”
“Malcolm was my first and last customer.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.” Her eyes shift around the room once and then come back to mine. I recognize the move, too. She’s taking in our surroundings and making sure no one’s listening or getting too close, something that the woman with her wouldn’t allow anyways. That one looks like she’ll snap your neck if you breathe wrong around my cousin. I like her already. “That man literally kicked down every door to keep me for himself. To protect me.”
Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2) Page 17
