Page 31 of Empire of Lust
“Fuck. I was afraid of that,” I muse, sitting back and tenting my fingers under my chin.
“In a situation like this, I normally recommend one of two courses of action.” I nod for him to continue. “One, we place temptation in front of her. There are a handful of willing young men I use for jobs like this. You want to get her in a compromising position; you can’t go wrong with that.”
“And the other?”
“You give me the go-ahead, and I’ll eliminate the problem. Easy. Simple.”
Romero’s grunt reveals his surprise.
“I don’t want to take it that far,” I decide, ignoring his reaction. I’m surprised Joe would leap to that conclusion so early in the process of attempting to blackmail my ex, but I can’t fault him for it. I asked him for options. “My daughter would never forgive me if she found out. All I need is material strong enough to get her to sign those damn papers.”
“Fair enough.” I know I must be imagining what seems like disappointment in Joe’s voice. He wants to kill her. Well, I can’t pretend I’ve never entertained the thought.
It’s a quick meeting, and his efficiency is one more thing to appreciate.
Once we’re alone, Romero turns to me, and for once, he doesn’t bother keeping it professional. “What the fuck?”
“I told him not to kill her.”
“This is how far it’s gone?”
“Of course, because it’s what she wants.” I snarl. “If she would let me pay her off to keep silent about the things she knows, this would all be a lot easier. But she’s holding out on me, and you know it. I can’t leave this loose end hanging.”
Romero shakes his head. “So you hired a hitman?”
“You’re acting like you’re innocent. Let’s not pretend we haven’t both had blood on our hands.” He has no comeback for that. “I’m not in the mood to discuss morality. I have to do what I have to do.”
And that’s a good thing, since my phone buzzes with a text from Bianca. Morality has nothing to do with our interactions.
Bianca: Thank you for the shirt.
Immediately, my thumbs poise over the keyboard, and I’m prepared to demand a photo of her without the shirt on, but I pause. The last thing I need is physical evidence of what we’re doing.
Her purity stands in complete opposition to the discussion she interrupted. There’s no need to pay her off for her silence. She wants nothing from me but my dick. It’s the simplest relationship I’ve ever known. And therefore, because I’m fucked in the head, the most complex.
BIANCA
Here I am, driving downtown to meet up with my new boss over lunch, where I’ll sign my contract and the HR paperwork before starting my new job on Monday.
I’ve been looking forward to this since they offered me the position. At least, that’s how I felt at first. The job was a symbol of my success. Some people in my class were still looking for jobs by the time graduation rolled around, but I was ahead of the game. As always, the good little bookworm who does everything according to the rules.
I should be grateful and happy my life is on a good course. Not wishing I was with Callum. Questioning whether last night was wrong and hoping Tatum doesn’t find out and end up hating me. Forget Lucas. Tatum would be the tragic breakup I might never get over. She’s the sister I never had. Is she worth losing, even for somebody as incredible as her dad?
Incredible and hot and oh, so good at making me burn for him. Hours later and miles from his bed, my pussy moistens at the memories of last night. I was helpless against the feelings he evoked in me. In his arms, I felt warmth and happiness.
I already wanted him before, but knowing how much he’s wanted me in return makes it impossible to think about anything but him. I even second-guessed taking a shower this morning, because I didn’t want to wash his scent off me. I’m that far gone. It’s almost sick.
And I love it, crave it. There must be something wrong with me. Why didn’t I ever feel this way with Lucas?
Stupid question. Everything was always about him, all the time.
As I slide into an empty parking spot on the lowest level of the garage, I sigh. What’s the use of being so happy about Callum if everything else in my life is going down the shitter? I was already dissatisfied as it was, but it’s harder than ever to pretend otherwise. I don’t have many options. I need to shake this off fast. I can’t skip the meeting, and I can’t turn down the job. All those things are career suicide that would leave me broke and begging my dad for a place to live. Never mind how disappointed he would be, and there isn’t much I hate worse than disappointing him.
The phone’s sudden ring makes me yelp—I was that zoned out.
“No way,” I whisper, my eyes widening at the word DAD flashing on the screen.
If I was superstitious, I would swear he could read my mind. Not like I haven’t wondered whether he could throughout my life, but especially after we lost Mom. He knew what I was thinking before I thought about it, always watching, listening, and anticipating.