“Benjamin, please. Calm down,” she says, reaching for him. He takes her arm and drags her away, both of them leaving the room abruptly.
“Where are you going? This isn’t over!” I shout, worry for Carter now more concerning than what the argument was about.
“You are a child, Sofia. My child. And nobody touches something that belongs to me. Carter is a dead man. You want to be treated like an adult? Well, actions have consequences. And Carter’s actions with you just cost him his fucking life.”
He slams the door behind them, and then I hear the key turning in the lock.
“No, no, no.” I rush over and grab the handle in a fever to open the door, but there’s no magic opening. It’s locked. The door rattles in the frame but won’t open. “Don’t you do this. Mom! Stop him. Please…”
My pleas go unanswered because there are no footsteps outside.
And my dad isn’t coming back.
I can’t breathe. Suddenly, the walls around me start to encroach, pressing in and suffocating me. I need to escape, but I’m locked in a room. The tears I’ve held back burst free, scalding my cheeks as they leak down them. But I don’t want to cry. It’s anger running through me, not sorrow.
I pull open the wardrobe and look at all the clothes, all the dresses, the designer gowns and shoes that have been showered upon me over the years, and I hate them; I hate them all and what they represent. My arms lash out, and I drag my nails through the fabric, tearing them down. I direct all my frustrations, all my emotions at the inanimate objects in front of me.
My sobs grow more frantic as worry builds inside of me and the pile of torn fabric grows at my feet. My attack serves as an outlet for everything that’s brewing inside of my chest until I can’t take it any longer and collapse into the pile of clothes.
A small part of me wonders if ignorance would be better than this. If I hadn’t got on that bus and visited Uncle Quinn, I’d have never known any different, and I could go back to school without this gnawing feeling in my stomach. But at the same time, I’d have never met Carter, the first man to ever make my heart skip a beat. The first man I’ve ever kissed, the first … My mind trails off towards more passionate memories and the imagined scenes he left me with after he also locked the door on me. Now I might as well have signed his death certificate without even sleeping with him.
Thinking of Carter and the small taste of freedom he gave me reminds me that I can’t stay here. I have to warn him. Help him. He came to save me when he didn’t have to. He could have left me, but he didn’t. There’s no way I can live under the same roof as my father and be complicit in his affairs. I won’t be able to look Mom in the eye and see her as the same protective mom I’ve always known her to be. But my last adventure was my only adventure. What can I do?
My mind races with possibilities—first outrageous and far-fetched, but as my mind works each scenario like an equation, a pattern begins to form. A pattern that has a clear starting point.
I jump from the floor, swiping my cheeks, and search my room. I grab a few of my notebooks and research papers from my school bag and stuff them into the backpack I’ve yet to unpack. I grab a few extra pairs of jeans, leggings, underwear, and check the money I still have. I’ll need money, but unlike last time, I don’t need to hide where I am from my father.
I need to get to Carter.
As the thought goes through my head, it paralyses me with fear. Can I really do this? Should I throw everything away so easily for the first guy I’ve ever liked? Then I think about all the white powder in that warehouse, what Carter told me, and what I know of my father.
It’s my fault he has a target on his back. I need space from my family.
Could I convince Mom that nothing happened? Just like earlier, as I was thinking of her, I hear the lock turning in the door, and she creeps in. I turn to look at her and I’m at war with myself over my reaction. I should be cross that she let this happen to me, but I can’t be. I want to fly into her arms as I did as a small girl to be reassured everything will be okay. But I’m not that girl anymore. This is my chance to show who I really am, and I won’t stand for what my family name has done.
“Baby, are you okay?” She looks around the room at the destruction before her eyes land on me.
I nod, not confident that my voice will hold.
“Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I always said I’d protect you from him, and I have as much as I can, but I can’t fix this.” She opens her arms, and I can’t help but race to her.
I let my tears roll unchecked or hidden as she rubs my back, trying to soothe me.
“Mom, I can’t stay. Not now. Not now that I know. And Carter.”
I feel her nod, but I can’t bring myself to look up at her.
A few days ago, I was running away to get some of the answers I’ve always wanted about my family, and they’ve led me here.
Running again.
“Will you tell me about him?”
“There’s not much to tell, Mom. That’s the truth. But I can’t let Dad go after him because of me.”
“I know you have to go, baby girl. I just wish you didn’t.”
“Will you help me?”
“Of course. I know you. We’ve raised you to be a wonderful woman. It would only have been a matter of time before this blew up.”
“Why won’t Dad listen?” I ask, but I know the answer before it’s said.
“Because he is Benjamin Vico. He sees the world differently. Always has, Fia.”
“You can come with me?” A small child’s hope suddenly balloons in my chest at the thought of having my mom next to me, but this isn’t her journey. This isn’t her path. She’s been my dad’s right hand all my life, and that’s where she belongs, no matter how much I currently hate the thought.
“You know I will be with you wherever you go, but I can’t come with you, baby girl.”
I nod and look at her eyes. Unshed tears linger behind her long lashes. She’s always been so strong, the perfect role model for me in ways I’m only now seeing.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back.” The words suddenly become very real. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or what I’m going to do. This won’t stop at a simple call to Carter to warn him. There’s more to this than that. My throat thickens, full of sadness at leaving the one person I’ve felt nothing but unconditional love from my entire life.
“Just be safe. Check in when you can.”
“Dad will be mad.”
“He will, but he said himself that actions have consequences. He’s not seen that in a long time, but baby, please remember that he loves you so deeply. No matter how it feels, he has done everything with your interests at heart. For all of his sins, he is a good man.”
I nod again, scared that my emotions will betray me and I’ll lose the courage I’ve built to stand up to him.
“Can you get us out?”
“I can drive you.” She smiles and gives my hand a squeeze.
I finish packing while Mom waits. “I’ll look at setting you up an account.”
“What?”
“We don’t know what this course of action will mean. I take it you’re not just running to warn Carter?” She smiles and it tells me she knows that I have feelings for him.
“I guess, maybe. I don’t know. I have so much rushing in my head, but I know I can’t let Dad just kill him for daring to notice me.”
“I’ll help any way I can. Just keep in touch. If you need to run, I’ll make sure you have money and that he won’t find you.”
“Uncle Nate?”
“He won’t help your father if I ask him not to. He’s my brother. It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
Although she says the words, I have no idea of what I’m doing.
“Come on. We need to go before I change my mind and keep you locked in here where I know you’ll stay safe.” Mom smiles as she jokes, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
Less than half an hour later, we’re
driving towards Manhattan, back the way we came earlier today.
We arrive at JFK, and I look up at the departures board.
This time, if the plane journey is tracked, it won’t matter because Dad will be looking for the same person.
Fifteen
I sip the dark, sweet coffee and stare out into nothingness. It’s not that there isn’t anything to look at; it’s just that I’m not seeing it. My head’s still lost in something I can’t get past. I shake it and concentrate on the vista rather than letting myself drift into stupidity. Blue ocean spreads out in front of me beyond a long, sandy beach. I don’t even know why I came here after dropping her at the airport. I handed her bag over and watched that ass walk away from me, hating the distance being put between us for some irrational reason. Then I parked the car and boarded another plane. That plane brought me straight back here to Miami.
All I’ve done is think about her.
As Quinn said: idiot.
The sigh I let out at the thought makes me imagine that last conversation with him. Not that it was a conversation, more a show of his disappointment as he tried to teach me a lesson I know all too well already. Him telling me to disappear for a few weeks wasn’t for his benefit; it was for mine. I guess he hopes it will stop me thinking with my dick. I guess I thought it would work, too.
It hasn’t.
If anything, the distance from work, and the time to think has caused the polar opposite and made me ravenous for something so forbidden. A text from him a few hours ago telling me to stay off the grid while he deals with the situation isn't helping me forget about her either. Presumably she is the situation.
Still.
So that’s what I’m doing—staying off grid. Doing as I’m told. Again. It’s pissing me off and making me hungrier for her than I was already. What the fuck is he doing to delay the situation?
I wander down towards the sea, still sipping my espresso, and watch a group of women playing volleyball in the early evening dusk, uninterested in their lithe figures. Why? I should be all over that, enjoying the visual and tempting at least one of them to come have some of my kind of fun. Jesus. I’m gonna have to fuck the girl out of my system, aren’t I? Fuck, if that isn’t a sick thought. The only way I want to fuck her out of my system is by fucking her. I want her. Want everything about her. I want her moans and her screams. I want her hands braced and tied. And I want some screwed up version of closeness that I can’t wrap my damn head around at the moment.
It was her mouth that started all of this. The words she uses with that ivy-league tone of hers make everything sound high-class and out of my reach, no matter how much damn money I have. Prim and proper clothes, even when she’s casual. Intellectual. Classy. There isn’t a damn slutty thing about her.
Yet.
That makes the thought of defiling her all the more interesting because I’ve never had anyone like her—a virginal, high-class girl. I’ve fucked plenty of them once they’ve already been tainted. Something about degrading their status under me makes me feel energized, amused. But Fia?
That’s not what this is.
Not all of it, anyway.
And damn I don’t like being told I can’t have something I want.
My lips curl up into a smile as I think of that thing I’m not allowed again, eyes blurring the women around me into versions of her. Fuck, she looked good in a bikini. She’d look even better out of it, with my hand rammed inside her pussy and my dick lodged in her throat. No. I need a drink and someone else to fuck, or several of both.
I turn and head back towards the hotel, about ready to get in my car and go fuck myself into oblivion until I’m too weak to stand. My fingers reach for the car door, eyes scanning the locale for anything useful to play with. There isn’t anything, nothing worthy given the mood I’m in, anyway. I need one of the private clubs. There aren’t many here, not of any decent quality. It’s one thing Quinn always pushed into my head—high-end everything. I can remember him telling me the first time over. It was at breakfast and Emily was away. He looked at me over that grand table, silver service cutlery laid out neatly and a nanny just left the room with a newborn Logan in her arms, and he just said it out loud.
“When you fuck, you cover your dick in rubber or you make damn sure what you’re about to fuck is safe. You understand, Carter?”
Then he picked up his cutlery without missing a beat and started eating, nothing else to say on the matter. Guess he’d heard me jacking off and thought it was about time he had the fatherly chat. I’d gone as red as the carpet beneath our feet and scuttled from the room, all the time listening to his chuckles reverberating after me.
Dick.
Worked, though.
Mostly.
My ass slides into the car to cross town, my mind still thinking of everything I want to do, rather than everything I should do. I’ll go pick someone who looks something like her. Not easy, but doable. Five foot six. Soft blonde hair that feels like silk. Curves and legs that shouldn’t be seen by anyone but me. If she was mine, I’d probably lock her in a damn room, too. It’s not surprising Vico has all these years. He must have watched that pretty little girl grow up into what she is and scared the fuck out of himself thinking about what she was becoming. I snort, rounding the corners towards the club. Benjamin Vico scared.
What a fucking thought.
I’ve only met him twice, and both times just his eyes were enough to let me know what he was capable of. They’re villainous eyes, like there isn’t a goddamn thing he hasn’t seen or done in his life to get what he wants. They’re not polished or perfected like a Cane’s, regardless of the suits he wears or his good manners. They're old eyes. Wise eyes. And the stories I know, the things I’ve heard, and the results I’ve seen? Yeah, only a fucking moron screws around with him.
But her curves.
And that pretty voice dripping with guts and gravel.
Bet she’d scream for hours.
The car arrives beside the club quicker than I realise, and I find myself staring into the distance rather than getting out. The hell am I still thinking about her for? I shake my head and exit the car, tossing the keys at a valet and striding into the main waiting area. Four women are on me immediately, all of them dripping with the pretence of wealth they’re aiming for. Cheap pussy doesn’t get used well in here, never has according to Karl. Apparently, he got rid of that look about nine years ago, choosing both a new interior and breed of woman to help him make the most money possible. It was then I found the joint. Not that they’re all whores, only some of them.
My eyes scan around, arms shrugging the for-hire-girls off me. I’m not into fucking whores, never have been. I don’t need to or want to. The thought of paying for it pisses me off for some reason, like it’s a slight on my character, which is slighted enough as it is with the business I’m in. Karl Stanton, the owner, stands off to the side, his arms wrapped around two girls and one more knelt on the floor by his feet, ready to blow him on command. He nods at me as I cross over to the main bar, taking a long draw on his champagne, and then heads in my direction. I chuckle and tip the barkeep, pointing at the bottle of tequila.
“Carter,” Karl says, arriving next to me. He leans back on the bar and looks out into the room, a smile on his mouth. “Haven’t seen you in a while.” Yeah. He shouldn’t be seeing me now either given our last meeting, but I need to fuck and this is the first place I could think of for a sure thing without me hunting down the clubs and casinos. “You should apologise.”
“I didn’t then, I’m not gonna now.”
“You crashed my Maserati, Carter.”
“You got us drunk and then asked me to drive you home. Your fault. Still. Apologise to your own ass because you won’t be getting one from me, you dick.”
He chuckles and turns to face me, a grin creeping up his face.
“It was a good night.” My own chuckle comes back at him as I pour another shot and push one over to him, ignoring my phone vibrating in my p
ocket. Perhaps I should just get blind drunk after I’ve fucked, enjoy another night of whatever we did last time round. I’m certainly not answering a phone. Vacation. Time the fuck off.
“Can’t remember half of it, let alone crashing the car. You’re bad news. I shouldn’t even be here with you.”
“Says Carter Wade. The man who not only fucks girls to near death, but also happens to bring Cane shit all over my city. What is it this time?”
“I’m on vacation.”
He spits his champagne over the floor in laughter, his hand reaching for the tequila instead.
“Vacation? Well, damn. What you after?”
“Something pure.” The laugh that continues to echo makes me pour a shot, knocking it back just as quick. “But you don’t have that hanging around, so something unavailable will do.”
He nods out into the room, showing me a bunch of women over in the far corner.
“They’re all out on a bachelorette party. The blonde wearing a crown is getting married next weekend.”
That’ll do for me.
It’s as close to forbidden as I’m gonna find in here.
And blonde.
“Give me an hour or two.”
I knock back the next shot and nod at him before heading through the crowd and dodging all the incoming women as I go. That blonde is all I’m interested in. She’s giggling, seemingly happy, and young enough that I can imagine she’s a couple of years younger than she is. Shame she’s no virgin, and by the way she’s grinding her ass on her friend I’m thinking she’s far from pure. Not that I give a fuck. I’ll take whatever I can get to make damn sure I forget about what I can’t have. Perhaps I’ll be able to concentrate on my damn job then, go home and forget Sofia Vico even exists.
My smile sets in place, the same one I always use to get what I want out of a woman, and I head towards the small section they’re dancing in. It only takes two minutes for me to get noticed by one of the friends. She sidles over, pink pouty lips and brown hair getting in my fucking way. I cajole her to the side of me, arm wrapped around her, but eyes still locked on the body of the blonde. That’s all I give a damn for now. This one can come, too, if she wants. Fuck it. They all can. As long as I can get balls deep in the blonde, I’m up for it.
Forbidden Eyes: A Cane Novel 4 Page 16
