Page 2 of Creed

I hang up and grip the balcony rail. I’m pissed at myself that I let him get under my skin as much as he does.

I work to calm my anger by distracting myself with the memory of the fuck session I’ve just returned from. Katy is a casual hook-up whenever I’m in town.

However, thinking of that has the opposite effect because I remember that Katy pushed heavily to come back to my place—which she knows is off the table—and had tried to convince me to stay over. She's getting too many expectations, and I decide I won't be fucking her again.

I’ve never fucked any woman in my bed; I’ve never even brought one back to my home. And Iabsolutelydon’t spend the night and sleep next to anyone. I don’t stick around once we’re done with sex. With the reality of my last name, even though I’m not involved in the criminal underworld, I don’t trust many people.

It might be cold; however, any woman I sleep with knows my ‘rules of engagement’ before shedding their clothes. I may not be a gentleman in the sack, but I’m not a complete piece of shit, either.

My anger lingers, and I grip the balcony railing more tightly.

It’s not that I care what anyone else thinks who isn’t my immediate family. Especially a cockroach like Manuel Morales; he’s a fading star. I won that three-hundred-million-dollar deal because I was strategic and cunning in my approach, whereas a competitor like Morales relies on old, comfortable methods and past reputations.

The true root of my anger lies in that I feel like something is missing lately, which is a mindfuck.

I have a fantastic life with power, wealth, and success. People call me a corporate titan. Beautiful women ready and willing to be on my arm or to drain my balls on the regular. Women like Katy—gorgeous, willing to dowhateverI want, and panting for more of my brand of rough fucking. However, there’s a dullness to it all, an emptiness.

My phone rings again, and I see it’s Vito. It’s almost like he knows my thoughts and is calling to taunt me.

“Baby brother,” he says after I answer. “How’s San Diego pussy?”

“Same as everywhere else,” I grunt. The wind catches the top of my hair again. I re-shaved the sides last night and I drag my hand over the smooth patch at the side and around to the back.

There’s a slight pause before Vito asks, “You okay, Creed?”

I grit my teeth. This vague emptiness that I feel, and that I’m letting Morales get under my skin, is pissing me off. “I’m fine.”

I turn away from the bay and go back inside my bedroom.

“You get more ink?” he asks.

“No. Why?”

I swing my eyes to the circular mirror hanging by my bed. Tattoos cover my exposed skin—the only body parts that don’t have any ink are my face, palms, soles of my feet, head of my cock, and my balls.

“When you get in a mood, you usually reach for the tattoo gun," Vito says. "You and I are similar creatures—”

“Straight from hell?”

“Watch your mouth, orMammawill clip your ears.” He chuckles when I grunt. Gina Santoro’s ear clips are legendary. She may be the wife of a Don and mother of sons who’ll be taking over the criminal empire, but we’re her ‘good boys,’ and we don’t dare forget it, or she'll bring us back in line. “When I get in a mood, I reach for a gun, too. Just a slightly different one than a tattoo gun.”

“No shit, aslightlydifferent gun. At least no one ends up bloody and likely dead when I get in a mood.”

“You’re a dick.” Vito laughs.

“I speak no lies, brother.” I walk into my walk-in closet, trying to decide between another shot of caffeine or a nap, so I’m alert for tonight’s event. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in. How did your meetings go yesterday?”

“You know how it went, you asshole.”

“I just wanted to hear it from my humble baby brother. And to say congrats; that’s a huge win, Creed.Mammahas been broadcasting how her baby is gonna be the US’s biggest real estate mogul ever.”

“Do you think I’ll make the cut to be in the Santoro Family Christmas letter?”

Vito chokes on his laugh. Out of all of us brothers, he laughs the most. He may be our family’s ruthless, slightly unhinged protector, but he loves big. However, anyone outside our family sees more of the stoic, ruthless side of him. The predator.

“I really am proud of you, Creed. Although, I don’t envy all the travel you’ll be doing between home, San Diego, and LA.”

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