Mr. Corporate (Mister #3)

by JA Huss

  It comes out like a whisper. Like I’m afraid to say it. And I am. I’m afraid that she will take one look at this place, call it a sick shrine, and tell me to get on with my life as she walks out.

  It could happen. It could happen and she could say it right now.

  But before she gets a chance, I say, “I just need you to know that I am here. Waiting. For as long as it takes for you to be ready. And I’m sorry I never said it that way before. I have so many regrets for the way we ended our relationship. I should’ve been able to articulate it before. But I guess… I just never understood what you wanted. Why you didn’t want what I wanted. It was just bad timing, you know?”

  She walks on, her fingertips tracing the back of the antique whitewashed barstools, unable to stop herself from holding a blue and white striped dishtowel hanging off the oven handle on the wall next to her. She looks up, all the way up, to the windows in the cathedral ceiling, then turns to the French doors that open to the backyard.

  One thing you get living in this gated community in Burbank Hills is a nice-sized back yard. She always wanted one of those. And a pool. An in-ground pool.

  It’s fantastically lit up right now, the subtle movement of the water reflecting the light across her face in a way that makes her look surreal. My fantasy. That’s what she looks like. She is my fantasy. And I cannot believe I have her standing in this kitchen right now.

  How many times have I imagined it?

  But then I forced the thoughts out of my mind.

  I guess I never really admitted to myself that I was building this home for her. That every piece I bought to furnish it was with her in mind. But it’s very clear to me now.

  What would Tori want?

  What does Tori like?

  What would Tori say?

  And later, after I had already given up that this would ever become a reality, What would Tori want me to do?

  “I love it,” she says, turning to face me. “God, I love it so much.”

  “I could lose it, you know. If they are stealing my life away. I could lose this house, but I wouldn’t care, Tori. Not if you wanted to start over with me. They can take whatever they want, as long as they don’t take you. The only thing I care about is a second chance at what we know we have. So please. Please, when we get on that plane tomorrow morning, don’t keep insisting that you take part in whatever Oliver, Pax, and Five are planning. Just leave it to us. Because if something happened to you I would die too, Tori. I would not want to live.”

  She has a sad, sad smile on her face. But she walks over to me, slips her hands around my waist and presses her face into my chest.

  I breathe in her scent. I touch her long wild hair, and when she lifts her head up and meets my gaze, her eyes are a swirl of violet. The storm we left behind is gone and instead I see nothing but the purple flowers she reminds me of.

  A whole garden of flowers. Something we had, and lost, but now have again.

  “Take me upstairs,” she whispers. “I want to see my bedroom now.”

  I reach underneath her, lift her in my arms, and walk us upstairs. There are four bedrooms, but the only one that matters is the one at the end of the hall.

  I place her gently on top of the king-sized bed without turning the light on. There is a spotlight aimed at a palm tree just to the left of the large picture window outside. More than enough light for what I’m about to do. She is nested in the thick down comforter; her hair is splayed out on one of the many pillows I have waiting for her weary head. Her knees come up out of instinct, wanting to cover her bare legs as the short sundress settles by her hips.

  But I gently grab her ankles and drag them down the cool cotton duvet and spread her legs at the knees.

  I catch a sharp intake of breath, and maybe she’s nervous. I’m nervous. Even though I’ve had sex with her several times in the past few days, I’m nervous because this is the one that counts. This is the one that says, You are mine. I am yours. And you are never getting away because we’re in this together now.

  I reach under the light fabric and find the elastic of her panties, pulling them down her thighs as she lifts her hips and closes her knees to help me slide them all the way to her ankles. My touch is so light, she shivers, sending a chill of bumps up her legs for a moment before she sighs, relaxes, and opens her legs back up without any help from me.

  “Victoria,” I whisper as I kiss my way up her body. I linger in so many places. I stop at her ankle, then her knee. She arches her back and sighs, her fingers threading into my hair. I continue, switching to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh. “Victoria,” I say again.

  “What?” she breathes out. “What?”

  “Be here,” I say, reaching under her ass to lift her hips, bring her pussy in line with my mouth.

  “I am here,” she replies, her grip on my hair loosening, her hips moving, positioning.

  “Stay here,” I say, easing my tongue into the soft folds. I lick and she draws in a long breath. “Just stay here with me and I swear, it will be good.”

  “Weston Conrad,” she says. “I’ve always been yours. You should know that. I have never belonged, will never belong, to anyone but you. Even when we’re apart, I am yours and only yours. Forever.”

  I lick her pussy until she is writhing. I squeeze her breasts until she whimpers. I kiss her mouth like I’m hungry and the only thing that can nourish me is her. Her taste, her lips, her tongue.

  And then I ease into her, slowly. Just the way she likes it. There are plenty of ways to have sex with her. Hard and rough, the way I sometimes prefer. We can talk dirty, or not. We can go fast or not. We can do it standing, in the shower, against the wall, or outside in the pool. We can fuck so many ways.

  But tonight I make love to her. Love. Soft and sweet, just the way she likes it. I know her heart and it is soft. I know her soul and it is sweet. I know her, and I want her to know me too. This me. The one who cares so deeply, he’s willing to give up everything for the only woman he will ever love.

  It’s not a night of multiple orgasms. It’s not a night of screaming my name, or me shoving my dick down her throat so I can feel her muscles contract as I come. It’s not even about coming, together or otherwise.

  It’s just about being there. In the moment when we decide, yes. We will stop all the nos and just say yes to each other.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  I say it as I move inside her. She says it as she digs her nails into my back and bites my shoulder. We say it together, just once. But once is all we need. Once is more than nothing. Once is enough.

  I fall asleep, exhausted, spent, and happier than I have ever been in my life.

  Victoria Arias, the love of my life, falls asleep, cradled in my arms, her head resting on my chest. Our breathing is matched and perfect. Our love is complete, because no matter what happens, we have this night. This one perfect night with her in the bed I made for her. With her in the house I want to give her. Next to me, Weston Conrad, her soulmate.

  But when I wake up, ready to face the challenge ahead of us, it all feels like a dream.

  Because she is gone.

  Chapter Forty-Five - Victoria

  My leg is bouncing as the pilot tells me we’re about to land in New Jersey. I calculate the route back into Brooklyn from the private airport and debate whether or not I should call someone and announce that I’m coming back home.

  No. Let Lucio be surprised. Let him see me sitting there, in his bar, his disbelieving eyes wide and his mind racing with all the possible reasons I might have come back.

  Fuck him. Fuck him. That’s all I’ve been thinking since last night. West was so sweet and genuine. So perfect. God, how did I ever let this shit go so far? Why didn’t I know that Lucio was the one who set them up? Why didn’t I look into it at least?

  Fear.

  I hate myself right now. Hate myself for letting Lucio control me—even after I got out of that situation, he controlled me in so m
any ways.

  The fear of being alone in the daylight. Fuck the night, I was afraid of the light.

  It pisses me off so bad.

  West’s phone vibrated last night, just after we fell asleep, and I checked it. It was Jerry, saying the jet was all fueled and the flight plan filed for New Jersey at seven AM. I got up, waiting to see if West would notice. And when he didn’t, I slipped my clothes back on and crept out of the house, snatching his keys from the foyer on my way. Burbank Airport was only a few miles away. It was like… meant to be. Like fate was telling me this was my problem and I needed to solve it myself.

  “Um, Tori?” Jerry is worried, I can tell. I don’t think West has noticed I’m gone yet, so I still have time to get there and not have anyone stop me. But he’s gonna know soon. “Are you sure you don’t want me to have the pilot radio someone?”

  “No, Jerry. Please. I just need to get home. ASAP.” I lied to him. Told him West and I got in a huge fight, the Mister flight was canceled, and I just needed to leave. And he bought it. God knows, I’ve used the same excuse before, while we were dating. Only all those times it was true and this time it’s not.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

  My face crumples. Because everything is working out. And how is that fair? To anyone? Especially West. How could I possibly let him and his friends fight this last battle for me when I was the reason their lives were ruined? Still am, apparently.

  “You two are so right for each other,” Jerry says, noticing my pained expression. “I know you can work it out if you just try. Maybe talk things through? See where you can’t come together? And find some kind of compromise?”

  But we did that. Mr. Corporate was straight with me last night. Everything I’ve been waiting to hear from him came pouring out. And now, the only thing left in our way is this one last loose end. My loose end.

  “I know,” I tell Jerry. He’s always been so good to me. Always been so understanding. And this is not the first time I’ve hijacked the Mister jet for my own personal escape. Only this time I’m not running away, I’m going home to finish what I started.

  I’m coming, Lucio Gori. I’m coming for you. I’m gonna settle this once and for all.

  Chapter Forty-Six - Weston

  “You have no control, do you?” Mysterious is sitting across from me in Five’s private jet as we try to race Victoria back to the East Coast. He’s drinking a mint julep, complete with a few sprigs of mint leaf sticking out of it, and something about that is so wrong. I get he’s from Kentucky, but who the fuck drinks mint juleps?

  I decide to ignore him.

  “I mean, this chick, Corporate. She’s got you by the balls, man. She’s got us all by the balls. And I’ll tell you what, I don’t care for it. I’m the master in my relationships. My woman would—”

  “Would you shut the fuck up?” Five says, from across the plane. He’s got the Wall Street Journal spread out in front of him, scanning the financial page like this is just another day.

  “What?” Mysterious says. “Don’t get pissy with me, Rutherford. This chick is gonna ruin everything.”

  “Use my real name again, motherfucker,” Five says, looking up, expressionless, “and I’ll throw you out of this jet from thirty thousand feet.”

  I have to hide my smile. Not many people talk to Paxton Vance that way. But Pax just shrugs it off and says, “Don’t wet your panties, Five. Corporate’s one of us. So what if he knows your real name? And I’m just fucking with him, anyway. You’re so fucking serious.”

  “Yeah,” Oliver says. He’s also been doing his best to ignore the fact that shit is going wrong in just about every way at the moment. “Which means we cut him slack when he needs it, Pax. And he needs it, OK? I know Victoria better than you do. So I know there’s no stopping her once she’s got an idea in her head. And it’s partly our fault for encouraging her last night. So shut the fuck up and chill out. We’re gonna land less than an hour behind her, so we’ve got time. Five’s got the addresses of all the Gori businesses and we’ve narrowed them down to two or three possible places where she might confront him. Until we’re on the ground, just drop it.”

  I have to hand it to Oliver Shrike. He’s always been in control of his shit. Maybe it is weird that he never has a girlfriend, but whatever. He’s good people. He must have a valid reason for that. He’s not excitable. In fact, Oliver and Five have a lot in common and it occurs to me, maybe they’ve known each other for a long time. Maybe they are related or something?

  “We’ve all got a lot at stake here, so I get it,” Five says, folding his paper and pushing it aside to reach for his coffee. “You’re worried. And you’re next, right?”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Pax asks.

  “Well, we know more than we told Tori,” Five says. “She thinks this is the end game. She really thinks Lucio Gori is the one who set us up.”

  Five looks at me and I have no escape, so I just shrug. I’m not telling him shit unless I have to. And I don’t have to yet. I’m not convinced this is all tied back to what I suspect. Best to keep that secret under the hood a little longer.

  “But it’s not the end game. None of this Lucio shit adds up, does it Corporate?”

  I shrug again. Keep fishing asshole. I’m not gonna bite.

  “So you’re next, Mysterious,” Five says. “Then Oliver, probably. Lucio cannot be our final target; it can’t be that easy. So you better step your shit up, son. And pull yourself together.”

  “Maybe we’re wrong?” Pax says, taking a seat across from me. “Maybe it’s not who we think.”

  But he doesn’t ask it like a question. He doesn’t ask it because he knows his theory is weak. I know this is tied back to Liam. They know this is tied back to Liam. But what they don’t know is how Liam got involved.

  I don’t know that either. So I keep my mouth shut and think about all the moving parts in this machine.

  We each have a theory. Even Nolan and Mac have one, but we’ve thrown those out. I don’t think Nolan’s sister, Claudette, is the mastermind behind all this. Besides, she wasn’t around back when we were accused of raping that girl. She was off causing trouble somewhere else. And Allen, the reappearing thorn in Mac’s side, was there. But he’s just not smart enough to pull off a con like this. Besides, he could’ve gone down with us.

  Should’ve gone down with us, I correct myself.

  “We’re not wrong,” Oliver says. “It’s definitely Liam calling these shots. He’s pissed off that West stole that treasure. And you know what? I can’t believe I’m saying that with a straight face. Who the fuck gets caught up in some kind of buried treasure scheme?”

  He’s looking at me with an accusatory glare. “Hey,” I say, throwing up my hands. “I was seven years old. I didn’t ask to find that shit.”

  “But you played along,” Five says, our temporary alliance gone.

  “I was seven. What kind of seven-year-old doesn’t wish he’d find buried treasure?”

  “Your life is some kind of Goonies movie sequel, Corporate,” Pax says, smiling.

  I smile back, because whatever. We’re all in this together now, like it or not. We’re a team.

  “I’m waiting for the cool shit to start. Maybe we’ll get to play the bones with sexual torture devices?”

  Pax, Oliver, and I all laugh. Fucking Goonies was a favorite in the frat house when we were partying.

  “Laugh it up, you assholes,” Five says, opening up his laptop. “And you won’t have to wait long for your shit to hit the fan, Mysterious.” Five takes a sip of his coffee. “Like I said, you’re next.”

  “We’ll see,” Pax mutters, finding a loose thread on his suit coat to pick.

  I shrug. “Maybe you’re right,” I tell Pax. “Maybe it’s not Liam and this Lucio fuck will get what’s coming and everything will go back to normal.”

  “Normal?” Oliver says, swiveling in his chair like a kid. “I don’t think the lives we were living before a
ll this started back up were anything I’d call normal.”

  “Mr. Five,” the flight attendant says in a soft, apologetic voice. “We just got word that the Mister jet has landed. Miss Arias took a cab from the airport. They’ve got a tail on her. We’re a little ahead of schedule, so we’ll be landing in about thirty minutes.”

  “Good,” Five says. “Make sure the helicopter is ready. Mysterious, I hope you can land that thing in Brooklyn. Because if not, Corporate can kiss his girlfriend goodbye. My associate just sent me a slew of reports about Mr. Lucio Gori’s suspected offenses.” Five stops talking and looks straight at me. “Do you want to know? Or not?”

  “Tell me,” I say, my heart beating faster than ever. “I want to know just who this fuck is. I want to know all of it so when I kill that motherfucker, there’s not a drop of remorse in my blood.”

  “Sex trafficking being the most serious on this list. Of course, he was never charged, or even brought under suspicion. His father had deep pockets and connections that go back more than fifty years. Alonzo Gori, Lucio Gori Senior’s maternal grandfather, started a trucking company in Brooklyn in the early sixties and since then their territory has grown steadily. Gori Senior was made boss in 2001, after he killed his own father in an argument regarding online gambling.”