CHAPTER ELEVEN
1427 Words
Beware the attraction that consumes you, for it can also destroy you.
NIKOLAS
We don’t get home until late in the afternoon.
And the minute the car cruises into the compound and I see Earl’s Rolls Royce, a frown makes its way to my face.
I glance at my watch. 4pm.
Besides Rosalind who despite my father’s vehement protests and threats rarely stays home, Earl hates this house even more than I do and spends as little time in it as possible
He is never home by this time.
My uncle steps out first, unbothered by the fact that my brother is around.
“We should speak to the Don, tell him about the meeting before he finds out himself.”
I nod briskly. “In a minute. I need a shower first.”
My uncle grunts at my decision to keep my father waiting.
That is more an Earl thing to do. Not me.
But all my years of being at my father’s beck and call hasn’t stopped him from considering pushing me aside for his favorite son once more.
Besides, I am tired.
And old as he may be, my father isn’t going to die in the next thirty minutes.
His meeting can wait.
I go straight to my room in the left wing of the house.
My room is closest to my father’s study.
It used to be Earl’s. But then he left and my father all but forced me into it.
I hear the noise the minute I make the turn towards my room.
It is a rattling banging sound.
The sound of someone trying to pull on something that is firmly locked.
It’s coming from the direction of my father’s study.
I wait to hear voices but nothing comes.
Contrary to what one would expect, my father rarely holds meetings in his study.
Especially not those with us.
He prefers the outdoors of the garden where we can see in stark sunlight every glare of spite he throws our way.
And where he can see the glint of the enemy’s knife before they stick it in his neck.
His words.
So the noise can’t be my father and uncle already.
Frowning, I pull out my gun as silently as possible and make my way around the corner and towards the noise.
Across the room from me, I see that the heavy oak door leading to the study is ajar.
All the alarm bells in my head go off at the same minute.
My father never leaves this door open.
Once, when I was eleven, he nearly peeled the skin off my back for doing exactly that.
Something is wrong.
But before I can move forward and investigate further, I see them, the intruder.
They’re coming out with their back to me, trying their best to close the door as silently as possible.
Most of the staff who work for my father have been here all my life.
I know every maid and chauffeur and gardener who works at Il Paradiso.
And this woman, dressed in heels redder than a blood stain, is not one of them.
I step out of the shadows, my eyes fixed on her rounded shoulders.
"Can I help you with something?" I ask, my voice firm but calm, gun trained on her back.
She freezes like I knew she would, her hand on the door handle of my father’s study.
I slide my hand around the trigger and click off the safety. “Okay doll, hands in the air, turn around slowly”
“I…”
“Bahbahbah” I mutter, shushing her. “Hands where I can see them.”
She obeys, lifting long slender arms above her head.
“Now turn around so I can see your face before I put a bullet in it”
She turns slowly to face me.
And my breath catches in his throat.
She is stunning –like the kind of stunning that makes you want to stop and stare and possess so you could show everyone that it belonged to you.
Gold blonde hair and full lips that are pulled into a wry smile compliments arched cheekbones and succinctly carved brows.
But it is her piercing green eyes utterly devoid of fear despite the gun trained on her that has me momentarily stunned.
She lowers her hand even though I haven’t asked her to.
I want to hear her voice. I need to hear it.
“Want to tell me what you were doing in there?” I ask, waving my gun in the direction of the door behind her.
"I, uh, was just looking for the bathroom," she says, her voice husky and confident.
Exactly like I knew it would be.
I raise one eyebrow. "The bathroom.”
My tone is flat and thick with disbelief but she only shrugs.
"I didn't want to disturb anyone. I saw this door and thought..."
I take a step closer, my eyes locked on hers, the gun still out and in her face.
"You're not a very good liar, are you?"
She shrugs again, a hint of mischief sparkling in her eyes.
"I guess not.”
Despite the warning bells in my mind, my gaze roams over her, taking in the fitted black dress and the way it hugs her curves.
If she looks this amazing in it, I can only imagine what she looks like out of it.
My grip on my gun tightens. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
The woman's smile returns and she takes a step closer to me.
I almost take one back in response before catching myself at the last minute.
She’s tall but it’s not enough. She still has to look up at me.
And as I gaze down at her, I become aware of my heart racing in my chest, the air between us charged with a tension I do not understand.
"My name is Cameron.” She replies “And from your complete lack of hospitality and the way you’re waving that gun in my face, I can only assume you’re the brother.”
The brother.
Always the brother.
Anger flushes through my veins.
Utterly oblivious to it, the woman stretches out her hand. “I didn’t expect to meet you so soon.”
I ignore the hand. “You haven’t answered my question.”
She pulls back her hand, not even bothered in the slightest by my refusal to shake it.
“Earl brought me. I’m…”
My lips twist into a sneer and I cut her off before she can say another word.
“Oh. I see.”
She frowns softly, her brows drawing together. Even her frown is pretty. “See what?”
But I don’t answer.
Instead I grab her by the arm and spin her around so fast, her breath escapes in a loud whoosh of surprise and fear.
“Hey!” She squeals, squirming in my arms. “What are you doing? Let me go!!”
I push her up against the wall front first, raising her hands and pinning them above her head while using my own body to keep her in place.
“I know exactly who you are.” I grunt. “Some w***e my brother picked up and brought here, not caring that you could just as well be a spy from a rival family.”
I pat her down, ignoring the ease with which my hand slides down and over the curve of her hips.
Like they were made for my hands.
“Who sent you?” I ask gruffly.
“Let me go!!”
She yells, pushing against me and my body reacts almost immediately.
I ignore it.
“Was it the Gambianos, those Staten Island bastards?”
I spin her back around to face me, this time pressing her back into the door so that her chest is pushed against mine.
She swallows hard, flicking her tongue across her lips.
“You’ve got it all wrong”
My eyes start to drop to her mouth before I can stop myself.
No wonder Earl brought this one home.
I take out my gun once more and place the cold barrel to her head.
“You have exactly thirty seconds before I redecorate this wall with the contents of you head. Who are you?”
“I’m…I’m…” her eyes dart from me to the gun.
I tsk disapprovingly at the hesitation. “Fifteen seconds.”
She bites her lip hard. “I’m…”
“She’s my wife.”
- Writer
