I crash down onto the bed, and the track of my mind takes me right to the one person I simultaneously can’t stand to think about and yet am desperate to see. Rage, pure and venomous, blazes through me as I mentally go back to that warehouse, and picture what went on. And what happened after. Fear slides under my skin and shakes my body. It’s like an out-of-body experience, replaying the attack, the man with the knife and seeing Carter blaze in to rescue me. As if my mind is denying it happened and trying to protect me from more pain. I look down at my chest and feel the itch of the bandages under my clothes, a constant reminder. It most definitely happened.
It’s all because of my father. How could he willingly do this?
How could my mother?
I always knew there was a dark reason behind the fearful looks and respect my father commanded in a city that led the rest of the world, but I never thought this would be the source of that power. Corrupt business dealings and bribes, politicians in his back pocket. That was where my mind took me over the years and what I deduced for myself, but a drug lord? Some kind of mob boss?
Never.
I bring my hand to the dressings over my chest and grit my teeth. Part of me wants to rip them off and take a look at what that monster did to me, but as I pick at one of the edges, my hand starts to shake, and I can’t go through with it.
I draw in a breath and think about everything that’s changed tonight. My entire life—my entire world—has been built on what I’m now actively trying to reverse. My father’s money has put me on the path I’m on today. It's a path that, if I’m successful, will lead to the first real advancements in synthetic drug production in the last fifteen years. Sure, there are products that are safer and deemed less addictive on the market, but they aren’t what people want. There have been fights against legalisation, medical requirements, but there has never been something that can safely synthesise the same high and work to combat the drug problem that has only grown over the last ten years. Supply and demand—a simple equation I wish with everything in my heart didn’t apply here.
People turn to drugs for several reasons, and the chemical reaction in the brain ensures that they keep coming back for more. But if that can be controlled? If that can be reproduced in a safe environment, licensed even? Dread hits my guts as I remember Carter’s words; my father expects to be at the forefront of that discovery as well, doesn't he?
“Arghhh,” I scream at the ceiling.
When I left to come and see Uncle Quinn, I never thought these would be the answers to all of the questions that have plagued me. I wanted to learn, to see what I could do with a business I knew next to nothing about. And now I know exactly why I've been kept in the dark.
Bitterness creeps into my heart. I can’t do anything about my father at the minute, but I can do something about Carter.
I push off the bed, adrenaline giving me courage I normally struggle to find, and work my way out of my room to go stand right in front of his. This might be the only opportunity I have to be with Carter. Sure, losing my virginity to a guy like him under these circumstances isn’t exactly what I’ve always dreamed of, but then I’m well aware that fairy tales don’t exist. Certainly, not anymore. What I do know is that I’ve never felt the way I did when Carter touched me. It made me feel alive, and that was with our clothes still on. We’ve been attracted to each other from the first moment, magnets drawn to each other, at least in my mind. Why can’t I pursue that?
My hand pushes down on the handle but meets resistance. It doesn’t budge. It’s locked. He’s locked me out? I don’t know if I should sigh in relief or be heartbroken. He said on the journey back that he didn’t regret anything that happened between us. But how can I believe that when he’s locked me out? Or locked himself in?
I rush back to my room, humiliated at the thought he doesn't want me and desperate to hide away and forget about him—about what my body wants.
When I come across a problem at college, I look at it logically. I analyse it, view it from different viewpoints and apply reason to come up with an answer that is either right or wrong. That approach doesn’t help here. The little girl I've tried so hard to grow from, to shed her skin and become the woman I am, is back again, pointing her finger at me and laughing.
* * *
My red-rimmed eyes stare back at me from the bathroom mirror. I don’t think I slept for more than a few minutes at a time the whole night. Shadows plagued my dreams, unfamiliar faces stalking over me and threatening, the glint of a blade and the flash of pain. Every time I woke up, I hoped Carter would be standing over me or sitting in the corner of the room, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t changed his mind and now, the hope that I’ll find him has soured to something acrid and painful in my chest.
I shove the few items I brought with me into a bag, and dress in a plain T-shirt, careful to hide the bandages that I’ve still not worked up the courage to remove. The dress is left in a crumpled heap on the floor. It won’t bring me anything but bad memories of what happened to me when I wore it, both with and without Carter. With my bags packed, the cold hard facts of what this trip has meant encroach further into my mind. There are two important conversations I need to have, and I’m not sure that one of them won’t end up in all-out war. My father isn’t one to be challenged, but there is no way I’m allowing him to brush this under the carpet or refuse to answer my questions.
Not this time.
The smell of coffee drifts through the suite, and I follow it over to the dining area where there’s a feast of breakfast items laid out. My body wants to freeze when I see Carter already dressed in an impeccable suit at the table, a knife and fork crossed over an empty plate and his eyes busy looking over his tablet.
“Good morning.” I quickly take a seat and pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee. “What time do we leave?”
Carter looks up from his tablet, and I’m pleased to see his usually bright eyes are shadowed this morning. Did he have trouble sleeping as well? I choose to believe it was because of me because, well, my ego needs the boost to make it through the next few hours with him.
“As soon as you’re through with breakfast, the jet’s on standby. You don’t get a choice about going home today.”
“Fine.”
I open one of the cloches on the table, but choose a bowl of strawberries instead, my hunger apparently evaporating at his sharp tone. The silence between us lingers in the air like a misty cloud, threatening to rain at any moment.
After I drain my coffee and I’ve picked at a handful of strawberries, I stand, head to my room to collect my packed bag, and return to the doorway. “Ready.” I stand and wait.
Without missing a beat, Carter stands and walks right past me to collect his bag from his room. He’s gone a few minutes, and then he’s back and heading to the elevator. He stands so I can’t see his face. It’s the same on the elevator ride down. He doesn’t look towards me, doesn’t ask questions, no interaction of any kind. As if last night never happened.
In one way, it makes it easier. After all, nothing did happen in his world, I guess. He made me come. It was an orgasm. Nothing more. He didn’t promise me anything, despite what I may have wanted.
I stare out of the window of the car, not taking in any of the scenery. My mind whirls over what I’ve done wrong, and why I couldn’t be like the countless girls Carter’s taken to bed.
“Stop frowning.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes slant towards his.
“Stop frowning. It doesn’t suit you.”
“And what would you know about what suits me?” I challenge.
“Don’t sass, Fia. Save it for your father.”
“Oh, what, sass is only okay for him?” I turn my body to face him fully.
“It’s better than frowning when you're with me.”
Without anything else to say, and not wanting to argue for fear of sounding like a child, I go back to staring out of the window.
The ride to the airport is over quickly, and
we’re back on the plane we arrived on, as if nothing has happened. But it has. So much has happened I feel like a different person than when I arrived. Regardless of those things, though, the nice parts anyway, he still doesn’t go out of his way to make me feel welcome, and by the time I sit I’m about ready to forget anything ever occurred between us at all.
My elbow rests on the table between seats, head cradled in my hands as I start mentally going over everything I need to talk to my dad about. Although, I know there will be less talking, more screaming.
Carter takes the seat opposite me, and I instinctively pull my body back into the seats, as if I can get further away from him if I try. Ridiculous, of course. I shouldn’t let him get to me.
With little to occupy my hands or my mind, my eyes wander to his face far too often for my liking. While he’s concentrating on his tablet, I can catch a few seconds staring at his lips. They’re parted as he concentrates on whatever he’s reading, but then his eyes snap up to catch me and I shrink back into myself.
The next time he catches me, I force myself to hold his gaze. His deep-green eyes look so mysterious. So sexy. My cheeks flame, as I keep my eyes on his and feel the temperature creep up. The storm in my stomach returns, turning my limbs to jelly, and I thank the heavens I’m already sitting down. With his eyes heating the very core of me, I wish that the table wasn’t separating us. I wish that everything between us would vanish, obliterate into a million particles so it’s just us. With nothing in our way, we could explore what this is between us, dive into it with no restrictions. Because there is an attraction, a magnetism that’s drawing us together, our own fields attracting us to one another.
“You know, if you look at me like that around your uncle, he’s likely to kill us both.”
His voice lulls me into a deeper sense of comfort, and my small smile reflects his own. “How am I looking at you?” I breathe, reluctant to break the trance.
“Like you want me to kiss you again.”
“Do you want to kiss me again?” The question is out of my mouth before I have a chance to think it through, like he’s tapped into a deeper part of me that speaks only of the desire I’m feeling.
He doesn’t answer, though. He smiles, a wicked, sinful smile that only makes me wish for last night all over again. "It's a shame I don't fuck virgins.” He turns away and breaks the connection, standing so he can cross to the other side of the jet. “The things I could show you, Sofia Vico, the things I could do to you…"
And yet still, I’m left with a longing centred in my chest and him on the other side of the plane.
He doesn’t let me catch his eye again for the rest of the journey, and I can feel our time together slipping through my fingers. The feeling causes an ache to rise up in my chest, as if being near him has become something I want, something I need. I smile to myself, perplexed as to what to do with the realization.
“What happens now?” I ask, more to fill the void than anything. He looks up from his tablet, eyes finally looking straight at me again.
“What do you want to happen? You have to speak to Quinn, and then there’s your father.”
“I can’t think about him yet. I want to speak to Quinn, get some things straight.” Just the mention of what I’ve got to contend with sours my mood again, and his slightly amused smile at my situation needles me further.
“He won't be happy discussing business with his niece. Get ready for that.”
“Well, he won’t have a choice. I’m not asking here, Carter.”
His brow arches at my aggressive tone. I'm not having it anymore. I want answers. All the answers. And if I have to play my father's voice to get them then that's exactly what I'll do.
“Okay. Just some advice, don’t push too hard. That’s not the way to get answers from Quinn.”
“I know how to handle my uncle. It’s my father I’m more concerned about.”
He looks away, still smiling, but not before running his finger across his lips in thought. “Mmm.”
Thirteen
I’ve never lied to Quinn.
Ever.
I’m not about to start now, regardless of the mouthful I’ll get for doing what I’ve done. And that’s just taking her to a deal and her getting taken. If he finds out I’ve touched her, all hell’s gonna let loose.
I smile a little at the memory and drive the corners along the avenue towards home, trying to convince myself that I didn’t really touch her. I only kissed her. She’s the one who got herself off on me. My smile grows wider, thinking about the feel of her rocking and grinding against my dick, enough so that I cover my mouth with my hand and look out the side window rather than have her see my slow grin. Hungry nails digging into my back, clothes in the goddamn way. Christ. I should be worried at this fucking moment, concerned for my well-being. Instead, all I can think about is the feel of her skin on mine, what it would feel like to take my time with her, to get her nice and wet, out of her mind before I bury my dick in her tight pussy.
I wipe the smile off my face and glance across at her, watching the way she chews on her bottom lip, a slight crease of annoyance on her features. She’s right to be angry, I guess. I would be, too, if I’d found all that shit out about my father and begun to realise who he really is. Let alone the fact that she’s pissed as fuck that I’m denying her anything more between us. I have to, though.
Nineteen.
Virgin.
Vico’s daughter.
The gates swing wide and we travel along the gravel up to the house. She’s barely spoken the entire way here, so fuck knows what’s about to kick off when we enter the house. Not that she’ll get anywhere with whatever attack she’s about to launch at Quinn. He’ll cut her dead, just like he’s done to me a thousand times, especially when I was her age. He’s got that way about him, the ability to make you feel like a juvenile fool under his gaze.
And definitely under his fist.
My teeth clench at the thought, my neck rolling to try loosening up my muscles after the flight. Something gives me the feeling I’m gonna get a beating at some point.
For her, and what we did in those minutes on that hood, I’ll take it.
“What would you do?” she asks out of nowhere.
I pull the car to a stop; glad Logan’s car is nowhere to be seen. The last thing I need is that prick holding this over my head. The engine cuts and I lean on the wheel, looking up at the place that has been my home for most of my life. What would I do? I’d walk on in there and confront Quinn. I’d make him show me everything before I went back to my father just so I would have everything necessary for the argument. I’d want all the information. I always do.
“I’d do what you’re going in there for.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
I lean back and turn to face her, a sigh coming at what she’s about to go do. Part of me thinks she shouldn’t. She’s got everything in life. Ease. Wealth. Smarts. A family who love her and will do anything to protect her. None of those things are to be sniffed at. Why fuck it up? It’s not her, though, is it? She’s too focused, and now pissed at all the lies.
“I guess I’d demand answers. And if I couldn’t get them, maybe I’d leave it all behind and start over somewhere new.” She tilts her head at me, a quizzical crease on her brow.
“You’d leave Uncle Quinn?”
“If I wasn’t trusted or if I was kept in the dark. Couldn’t do my job without either of those. Wouldn’t feel right.”
She nods at that and looks at the house rather than me, her hands palming her knees like she’s trying to build up the courage to go in. “But he loves you, Fia. That’s not something you should throw away lightly. No matter what.” It’s sure as shit better than what I got from my father.
“I know Uncle Quinn loves me, but—”
“Not Quinn. Your father.”
Her brow furrows, warm chocolate eyes turning to slits and bringing all that Vico attitude straight to me, and then her hand ratchets the door hand
le, one leg sliding out. “What he’s done isn’t love, Carter. He’s a monster. He doesn’t even know what the damn word means.” The door slams in my face, hard enough that the car shakes a little.
Jesus.
I crack my neck out to loosen the muscles up some more, itching for a round on the punching bag to set me right. Seems like a war’s about to kick off, with Quinn being the first in the firing line. The thought makes me get out and watch her glare at the house as she revs herself up into a spitball of venom.
“Don’t say another word, Carter. I’m doing this. You’re not talking me out of it.”
“Not gonna try,” I say, walking past her towards the door.
I am going in first if she’s going to do this. That’s the thing about me. I don’t run. Ever. If I set my mind to something, I’m all in. It’s one of the things the man I’m heading for admires about me. No sneaking around like Logan does. No lies. I own what I do whether it’s a fuck up or not. And the shit I’ve done with her, no matter how much I damn well enjoyed it, is one hell of a fuck up.
I walk across the lobby, crossing to the main lounges to search for him. He’s not there, so I turn and keep going towards the office instead.
All in. No fucking walking away from anything.
Her footsteps echo behind me until she catches up and reaches my side, her hand brushing mine. I half tilt my head to acknowledge it, wondering if she feels the impulse to hold onto me, but then I shake the fucking feeling off and keep walking. What’s about to happen is nothing compared to what’s gonna happen when she gets home, and I’m not gonna be there with her for that. She can hold onto herself for strength this round, get used to the feeling.
“Carter? That you?” Quinn calls from behind the heavy doors.
“Yeah,” I call back as my hand reaches to pull the door open.
She grabs it, keeping it closed, then looks up at me.
Time passes with nothing said between us. I wait, wondering what it is that she wants to say but can’t. Her lips tremble under my stare, tongue licking over them as if she’s nervous of what she’s about to do. Guess she should be. She’s nineteen and about to deliver some home truths to someone like Quinn Cane, let alone imagining what she’s going to have to say to her father. I’m surprised she’s not shaking more than she is.
Forbidden Eyes: A Cane Novel 4 Page 13
