Page 38 of Ruthless Touch
“I saw your father in the lobby earlier. Family visits can be a bitch, can’t they?”
As I sit down next to him, I mumble, “You have no idea. What a morning. No stress, but I’m relying on you to salvage this day before it goes straight into the toilet.”
Cesare laughs and shakes his head. “Nothing like putting pressure on a guy.”
For a few moments, I watch whatever match is on the TV and hope to escape my life here. I never wanted this for myself. When my father decided this was to be my fate in our family, all I could think was my fucking life was over.
I’d had such big plans. Once Alex had graduated and was gone from school, I was free to be who I wanted to be. Yes, I was still a Rule and the son of Helix Rule, which meant people always whispered whenever either my brother or I was around. They heard the rumors about what my father did for a living to afford to send us to the best private school in the States, and I always knew part of them would never accept us because of that.
Alex never gave a damn. He reveled in the idea that he could use our father’s violence to intimidate classmates. He made sure to let them know whenever they fucked around with him that whatever they heard about our family was only the tip of the iceberg, and if Helix Rule was bad, Alex Rule was so much worse.
I never wanted people to see me like that vicious animal who’d willingly hurt others with my hands. Physical violence was never my thing.
Not that I was any kinder than my brother or father. I just had my own way of dealing with people who crossed me. While Alex would just beat the hell out of someone who pissed him off, I preferred to choose to fuck with them in other subtle ways that hurt far more than my fists ever could.
It didn’t take long for my fellow classmates to figure out that messing with me was even worse than messing with my brother. Bruises and cuts healed quickly. The torment I visited on someone wasn’t something a person could brace for or be stitched up from.
Fucking with someone mentally takes time, but for someone like me, it was the only way. I could inflict physical pain on those who fucked with me, but I found the joy of torturing people quietly far more exquisite.
“You okay, Gideon? You seem different today.”
Cesare’s question pulls me from my thoughts of prep school and all those plans I’d had before my father announced I was to be the manager of this hotel instead of finishing college. Those dreams seem like they’re a million miles away now.
“Just the usual business I have to deal with,” I say with a smile I have to force. Eager to forget all those thoughts of the past, I change the subject. “So what did you bring me today?”
The enormous man leans back in his seat, and I swear I hear the chair groan under his weight. Folding his arms behind his head, my P.I. seems uniquely pleased with himself today.
“I know you said you didn’t want any cheating wife or girlfriend shit, but let’s say it’s the appetizer before I get to the main entrée,” Cesare says, practically gloating.
Surprised, I nod at this bit of news. “Well, I’m in the mood for a good cheating story. What did you find out?”
My P.I. leans forward and smacks his hand off the table. With a hearty laugh, he says, “Marcello’s girlfriend has a daddy thing going on. I followed her after she left the Angeloni villa, and she led me right to her side piece, who is definitely old enough to be her father.”
“Tell me you got pictures of her fucking dear old daddy,” I say with a smile.
He sends a manila envelope sailing down the table to where I sit. “It’s all there. Be sure to check out the ones toward the end. Baby girl has a thing for getting fucked hard. But hey, what’s a little blood, right?”
As I slide the photos out of the envelope, I murmur, “A little blood? Sounds kinky. Daddy must be really rough.”
“Oh, he is. I was impressed since he’s got to be in his late fifties. The guy must be taking care of himself. No low T there. Not like that wrinkly old bastard I was telling you about the other day.”
I flip through the pictures and see a blond woman getting fucking abused by some guy with gray hair. He does look like he’s in good shape for a middle-aged man. I don’t generally enjoy eyeballing stills of other people fucking, but for today’s purposes, I’ll suffer through it.
“And Marcello thinks she’s his?” I ask as I stuff the photos back into the envelope and set it aside.
“Truly and forever,” Cesare answers with a shit-eating grin. “I saw them out at dinner last night. They were all lovey dovey. Typical woman. Fawn all over a man at eight o’clock, and by ten, be on your hands and knees getting plowed by another guy.”
Such a romantic.
“Okay, this can definitely be useful, but I’m eager to know what else you found out about him.”
Cesare pulls another envelope from his coat pocket. This one is much smaller and white.
“I think you’re going to like this. Seems our boy isn’t the only Angeloni left. Here, take a look.”
“What do you mean? I thought all the other brothers were dead,” I say as I open the envelope to see what he’s talking about.
My eyes scan the papers inside, and I instantly understand. Looking up at Cesare, I can’t hide how happy this news makes me.