Page 4 of Delicious

“Sign the papers, Miss Collins, and this all goes away.” Ernesto crouches down, elbows resting on his knees, hands dangling between them as he leans forward, his face inches from Jess. “I have a lifetime of experience getting what I want.”

He jerks his head toward the dark-haired neanderthal, who reaches down, grabs the top of Jess’s head, and turns her face my way as a foot connects with my chest, sending me tumbling backward. A jolt of pain screams through the back of my head as it slams into the corner of the credenza’s carved leg, sending stars dancing in my eyes and an orchestra of ringtones going off in my ears.

“Leave her alone!” My aunt’s voice cracks as my hazy focus and the pain in the back of my head makes me feel like we’ve been transported into a warped version of a Fellini movie.

By the time my vision returns, Ernesto is on his feet, and I realize one of those ringtones is real and coming from his phone, as all three men turn and head back toward the foyer.

“Perfect timing.” Ernesto’s voice turns light and jovial as he answers the call. “I’ve just finished a very productive meeting with the last homeowner. The papers will be signed by tomorrow, you can count on it.”

“Good.” A male voice answers, and a chill zaps over my skin. “I’ve had my crew ready for a week. Every day costs me money, and I don’t like losing money.”

I push to my feet, stumbling toward Jess, the voice vaguely familiar as I tug her into me, pulling her from the floor and easing back into the chair, running my hand over her clammy forehead.

“Asshole,” I spit, as Ernesto turns, the phone screen suddenly at an angle where I can see the name of the caller for a second before it’s gone. And it feels lik my world has been torn apart.

“Do you mind?” he asks, his voice sounding distant inside my disbelieving head. “This is a private call.”

The cold that covered me a second ago becomes an inferno. Confusion and anger twist through me as the throbbing in my face is forgotten.

And from somewhere, a plan forms in my mind. People aren’t always what they seem, and the thought of calling Cassie is quickly come and gone.

How well does she actually know her new husband Magnus Leonard? They were a whirlwind, and even Cassie said there are times she wakes up, looks over at the sleeping man next to her and wonders who he really is.

I swallow as my resolve solidifies. I know what I need to do.

As the three men move out the front door, a sense of loss and heartbreak tightens around my throat. It may have been only a few days of text messages, but Erik made me feel something maybe I didn’t want to admit to myself.

Now, I’m not sure who is who, and what is real or part of some twisted cosmic coincidence.

Either way, it’s time to use what I have to get what I want.

Ernesto said it himself. I’m marketable.

Cassie may be a friend, but my aunt is my family, and I’m going to fix this mess once and for all.

2

Erik

“Blow it the fuck up,” I say, gritting my teeth as Theo, one of my most loyal and terrifying employees, holds the piece of shit human trafficker in a half nelson. “You won’t be chaining any more girls up in that fucking basement. You’re lucky I didn’t chain you up and leave you down there.”

I look over my shoulder toward Dimitri, who stands at the ready to twist the final ignition trigger for the explosives my team packed into the corners and walls of the old warehouse where Lenny the lecher kept his stable of women and girls, smuggled in from all corners of the world.

“But I have money! I’ll pay you! I’ll cut you in!”

With a nearly imperceptible nod at Theo, I watch him flex his biceps and nearly pop the head off the sub-human pasty-faced Kevin Spacey lookalike.

“Wait, please!” He’s choking and begging now. We’re making progress.

I may not be squeaky clean—the demolitions business is legit, but in order to grow I’ve danced with some dirty demons—but there are lines you don’t cross. Enslaving people is one, and two—and bigger still—kids. Any fucking thing to do with kids and my moral compass finds true north, even if I have to put my foot straight up someone’s ass to get there.

You’d think coming down here to finish off what I would refer to as a passion project for me would distract me more than it has. Running my family’s demolitions business is enough to keep a man occupied twenty-six hours a day. Add in my little anti-hero side ventures, and every synapse in my brain should be accounted for.

But what I didn’t count on was Andrea Collins.

Fuck. It’s been 72 hours since I walked into my brother Magnus’s house for Thanksgiving dinner and saw the dark-haired beauty sitting on the countertop, swinging her bare feet and sucking on a purple Tootsie Pop.

Fucking life changing.

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