Beautifully Mine

by Tara Lee

  Jacob Kipling may or may not be the reason I’m alive today but he’s also one of my fathers men, soon to be mine I guess.

  Jacob showing up unannounced is never a good sign. It means my freedom has come to an end. Before long, I’ll become my father. He nods at me as he waits for me. I wait for the words I know are coming.

  “It’s time.”

  Those simple words flip a switch inside me. It’s real now. I know what I need to do, what I was born to do. But being Il capo-the boss, is another thing entirely. Guess the monster in me is coming out to play.

  Jacob watches me cautiously. He never blinks, his gaze settling into my soul.

  He flicks a lighter between his fingers, giving himself something to do. The way the flame lights up his face reveals the devil underneath. I’m pissed he doesn’t have to speak to me to know that. My inner monster is tearing him to pieces right now.

  He has shit timing, but he isn't going to leave, even if I told him I had company coming over.

  Fuck my life.

  For some reason I’m nervous as hell as I walk up the hall to Bishop’s door.

  My hands are sweaty, and my heart is pounding.

  Maybe it’s nerves, or maybe it's the fact my heart after all this time has grown fond of Bishop. I mean, he’s a cocky, arrogant man with an ego so big I worry it will likely get him stabbed sometimes.

  But then there’s this other side to him he seems to only let out around me. I mean, yes, he calls me brat, and sometimes, like I said, makes me want to be the one to stab him. But the way he makes me feel and, of course, the way he makes my body feel, makes the rest seem like nothing in comparison. If either my father or Eric knew what I did with Bishop. I would be back home in my parents’ mansion, locked away before I could even open my mouth to protest.

  I am supposed to be on my best behavior, not having hot sex with possibly one of the hottest men I have ever met. After meeting him at the club, I couldn’t stop him if I tried. I may be slightly addicted to Bishop and his magic cock.

  I lift my hand to knock but I pause. I take one last look at my outfit before my hand connects with the door.

  I have a purple lace bra on under my short-as-hell black dress with no panties, per Bishop's request, and a big coat to hide said fact.

  God, why is my heart pounding?

  I let out a breath, and before I chicken out and run away, I knock again.

  Footsteps sound, and my palms turn even more sweaty. After years of doing this tango, maybe it’s time we take it to the next step.

  Bishop swings the door open wearing low-cut jeans that sit perfectly on his hips and a tight black shirt that showcases his muscles. I almost feel like I’m drooling. I nearly lift my hand to wipe said drool but refrain from making a fool of myself.

  Bishop smiles at me, but then it falls just as quick. He steps out into the hallway, closing his door as if he doesn’t want me to see inside. My heart pounds for an entirely different reason now.

  “Shit, Callie.” He runs his hand through his tousled, sexy-as-hell hair, taking in my outfit.

  I may have undone my coat to give him a little sneak peek. The way his gaze travels down my body makes my thighs tingle.

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  Wait! What? He told me to come over. Is he joking right now?

  “But we arranged this meeting,” I say. My voice quivers a little at the thought he has another woman inside and that's the reason he closed his door.

  He runs his hand through his hair again and lets out a breath.

  “Yeah, brat, but something came up, and we need a rain check.”

  I move back, taken by shock. So in the last hour, something so important came up that he's cancelling us?

  “What came up?” I ask with an attitude, because damn it, he’s pissed me off. I cross my arms over my chest, hiding the fact my heart is pounding so loud he can probably hear it.

  His focus ready to kill, the murderous look he gives me has me coiling into myself.

  “Just stuff okay, piccolina-little one, I’ll call you later.”

  Before I even get a chance to tell him to go fuck himself, he’s inside his apartment and closes the door in my face.

  God, that name. Bishop calls me various names, and every one infuriates me but that one. I don’t even know what it means, but for some reason it feels too real.

  I let out a number of noises while I stand there like the brat he called me mere seconds ago, waiting for him to realize what an idiot he has been and open the door. But he never does. Voices chatter inside, but I can’t tell who the other voice belongs to. It sounds male, so my heart calms slightly at knowing he doesn’t have another woman in there with him.

  With my higher-than-high heels on, I storm down the hall, I drive my finger into the button on the lift, hurting my finger in the process, but I don’t let it show, and as soon as it opens, I push the button for the ground floor. I am so angry right now and so horny; it’s a combination I hate.

  Tears burn the backs of my eyes, but I bite the inside of my cheek to distract my brain. It works for a moment, then those damn tears threaten to fall again. Why do I care so much that Bishop discarded me like I am nothing?

  By the time I make it home and strip myself of my hooker outfit that I put on for that asshole, my body is shaking and my heart pounds for a whole different reason.

  I run myself a bath to try to calm down. Now that Luna lives with Ethan, I have no one to cry to about what a jackass Bishop has been. I love that they finally found their happy ending, but I hate the fact I no longer have my best friend here to confide in.

  I scroll through the texts Bishop and I have sent over the last two years. Looking back, it’s all been sexual, of course. I’ve been an idiot to think it was anything else.

  I don’t even realize I’m crying until a drop lands on my chest. I wipe at my eyes, angry at myself for even letting them fall for that asshole.

  I’ve soaked and rubbed lotion over my legs and got in my most comfy pajamas I own, I still haven’t heard from Bishop. Not that I expected him to call, it’s not his style. There’ll be no begging or any sort of apology. Bishop has a way with words. It's what made me fall for him—, that and the way he uses my body like he owns it.

  It’s nearly midnight once I crawl into bed. I shouldn’t have sat up so late, not with class tomorrow, but after I ate a bowl of ice cream. I cried a little more, because all I could picture was Bishop kissing some other woman, and the images in my head would not go away.

  Why she had to be some hotter-than-hot blonde with huge tits and a fantastic ass, well, my brain is evil.

  Bishop owes me nothing. I’m not that stupid, I’m just a naive girl who fell in love with her one-night stand turned fuck-buddy.

  Bishop made no promises to ever be anything but that. Even though we are exclusive to each other, we made promises to not sleep with anyone else until we end this.

  Maybe he got bored with me and didn’t know how to tell me it was over. I know Bishop has a tough time talking about his past, he never shares anything about himself. He keeps mostly quiet unless his voice is demanding me to do things.

  I should have picked up on that sign. Why would he want to further what we have if he isn't willing to share anything about himself?

  I have only ever had one other boyfriend besides Bishop, not that he is my boyfriend or anything, not that he didn’t try with everything he had to make that happen, but in this case,

  I had only ever slept with one other guy. I know Luna thinks my number is much higher than that, but it’s not as impressive as she thinks.

  Things with Eric didn’t turn out the way I thought they would. We were seventeen, and I thought I was able to fall in love and that he loved me at least a little. After all, he was marrying me, right?

  Turns out he was an abusive asshat who thought he owned me just because we were going to wed one day.

  Things had changed suddenly when he thought I was flirting with one of his f
riends. He’d grabbed me by my arm so hard it left finger imprints on my skin. After the first time he slapped me, I ended things.

  I don’t need, nor deserve, to be treated like I am worthless.

  My parents have no idea Eric had gotten abusive. I told them he cheated on me and that’s why I broke up with him. Even though my father had hand-picked him to be my future husband. Lucky me, he told me Eric was in my life, get used to it.

  After all, daddy dearest knows what’s best for me.

  I’m a puppet in his game. The only purpose I serve is following orders and being a docile housewife.

  I told my father I would never marry Eric. To say things didn’t go over so well after that was an understatement. According to my father, I had no choice.

  Eric tried to get me to change my mind; he’d show up at my house, beg me at school, and send me gifts; they were flowers at first, but after a month the gifts got worse. Fresh flowers became dead ones, and he even sent me a box of worms once,and suffice to say, I freaked when I opened the box.

  When I got accepted to NYU, I felt relieved I didn’t have to be around him anymore for the time being. I made my parents swear to never tell him where I was. It’s been a year, and apart from the occasional text from him he’s left me alone. I’m sure my father will let it slip where I am soon enough.

  I know Eric knows I’m in New York, but not where. My father made excuse after excuse for Eric, telling me I was being a spoiled brat and that I was not going to get any better than Eric Carrington.

  Father is adamant I marry Eric, giving us an in with his family. The man completely disgusts me, but trying to get that through to my parents was falling on deaf ears.

  They didn’t want to hear the bad things about the man they deem perfect for me. Bishop makes me feel different, even if we aren’t official or our relationship isn’t normal. He is older, maybe that has something to do with it.

  I ‘m not with a boy, I’m with a man, one who knows how to do things with his tongue that drives my body wild.

  I’ll admit I’ve done things with Bishop I never thought I’d ever do with any guy, but for some reason, all my senses fly out the window when it comes to Bishop Stanton.

  I close my eyes and try not to picture him with another woman, but no matter how hard I try, all I see is a woman, a real woman, not some young naive girl like me sitting on Bishop’s lap riding him.

  Eventually my eyes get heavy. My phone beeps in the background, but I’m already too tired to check.

  I drift off into a slumber and picture the man that no matter how hard I try to deny it, captured my heart...and then tore it out tonight.

  Jacob, the fucker, is taking his damn time getting to the point. “I had to turn away my evening dessert because you showed up unexpectedly, fucker.” He chuckles, not making a move to get on with the reason for his visit.

  He knows all about Callie and what she is to me. He even knows I was hesitant to bring her into this world. I could tell Callie was hurt, I could see the unshed tears in her eyes. It killed me to send her away, but I couldn’t let her see Jacob or for Jacob to see her, not yet.

  He may know about her, but meeting her is not happening anytime soon, not until I give the all clear.

  It seems insane, but I want to keep my two lives separate for as long as I can. Selfish perhaps, but I know all too well it will be gone before I know it. And more than likely blow up in my face.

  There’s no way a girl like Callie will ever date a mobster. The things I would have to do, even the things I would have to order, and as much as I hate what my father did, soon, I will become like him. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Jacob is from my past. He’s someone I don’t want Callie anywhere near. For as long as possible. They’ll meet one day, but until that day, my brat is never laying eyes on Jacob Kipling. He screams killer—, don't ask me how, he just does, and that’s what he is.

  The man is fucking dark.

  Jacob hides a lot of things about himself, but after his family was murdered, by my father nonetheless, he became a priest in some small town in Minnesota to hide the fact he wanted to kill every person involved.

  Jacob was a hitman; in fact, he was the best of the best. Have you seen that movie John Wick? Yeah, that’s Jacob. He was the top dog, the man you called when you wanted someone to disappear without any trace. Minus the puppy, of course; instead, his revenge was for his wife and daughter. I’ve never understood why he never made me disappear, why he helped me and kept me alive.

  He’s a guy you never want to piss off. The only reason I’m alive is because of him. He found me so fucked-up five years ago that I couldn’t tell you what year it was, let alone the day or month. For some reason, he took it upon himself to help me. He took me to his cabin in the woods and kept me there until I was sober.

  When I had finally stopped hating him for not getting me what I wanted, I asked him the one question I knew anyone would ask.

  “Why?”

  “Because killing yourself slowly because of guilt will only cause you more pain. Trust me.”

  “I don’t deserve to live.” It was a hard pill to swallow, but it was the truth. I deserved to burn in Hell for what I did.

  “You have a better purpose in life than slowly killing yourself, Bishop, I believe that.”

  “I wish it would go away.”

  “It never does go away. It gets stronger each and every day, but don’t let the guilt in, otherwise it will eat you alive and you’ll become someone you’ll regret, and trust me, I know all about that.” He pauses.

  “You need to learn to live with it. Grow from it and then use it to make you stronger than he ever was.”

  Just like his revenge.

  I bring my thoughts back to the now. My purpose is to somehow change what my father worked so hard for. I’ve never told him that the day I take his place, changes will begin. My father does things I’m not proud of— unless people deserve it. I won’t just kill someone, but I know I have to be ruthless.

  It’s in the job description, but in some way I also want to make a future worth living in. I’m not so sure I want my kids to one day despise what I do if it’s all so evil.

  I’ve never understood what Jacob meant at the time. I mean, I was scum, I didn’t have a future. But when he told me about his wife and daughter, I knew we had something in common; our families were taken from us by the one man who thinks he’s above the law.

  “What’s new?” I pour myself a scotch after offering Jacob one.

  The way he stares into the glass has the hairs on the back of my neck standing to attention.

  “Lorenzo.” He swallows, and I wait.

  “You’re wasting your breath, he’s getting what’s deserved. Trust me.” The way he smirks tells me whatever is happening is not worth my attention.

  “Cancer,” he simply says, taking a sip.

  I watch as he licks the liquid from his lips and drains the rest in one huge gulp.

  “Such a shame, but I’d rather he suffer a slow death than get a bullet to the head and end his life quickly.”

  Jacob raises his glass in response.

  Jacob had promised me years ago he would find the right time to kill the man responsible for my mother's death. For years, I thought Lorenzo had killed my mother. I was surprised when Jacob confirmed that Lorenzo was not responsible.

  We’re back at square one.

  “Fuck,” I swear, tossing my glass against the wall. The impact has my glass shattering into tiny pieces everywhere.

  Jacob doesn’t flinch used to my outbursts.

  “We’ll find them. I promise.”

  I scoff, annoyed at the entire situation.

  Time is something I don’t have.

  My patience is running thin. I want the person responsible for killing my mother to suffer. I want their heart in my hand as I watch them take their last breath.

  Maybe a little dark coming from me, but I lost years with the woman who did everything in
her power to give me a normal life away from my father’s corrupt one.

  They deserve everything coming to them.

  I nod, even though I hate the set-back.

  “Brantley,” he says, matter-of-fact.

  “What about the fucker?”

  Jacob knows of my disdain for Ethan’s so-called brother. The man is lucky I haven’t put a bullet in his brain.

  You could say Brantley is not my favorite person.