Page 5 of Vengeful Eyes
“Scream for me, Hope.”
“Yes! I… please.”
He sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and the hit of pain dissolves through me as my climax hits.
“Yes! More… Yes!”
My body goes limp against his, but he doesn’t stop. He holds me, using me until he finds his own release without care for my comfort or pain. It’s always the same until it's done.
Our breaths mingle quietly for a moment when he’s finished. It’s such a snapped second of time, I barely have a chance to register it before he kisses me again, chastely, and lets me slip from his grip. He doesn’t hide it well enough. I imprint that second over and over again, just to remind myself of the power I have and can wield when necessary.
“I should sleep,” he says, glancing back at me, a frown on his features. “Get into bed.”
I nod, knowing he wants me with our sweat still coating my skin—another sign of possession. It’s his thing when he’s given me a moment of his heart. Not that he’d admit it.
“Do you need your pills tonight?” I ask. He doesn’t sleep much, barely at all, and often relies on sleeping pills. He finally trusts me enough to prepare them for him. No one else, though.
“Not after you.”
I smile, happy to take the compliments when they come.
Tomorrow, I’ll have bruises on my neck and shoulder, maybe my lip. It’s nothing compared to what he’s capable of, but it doesn’t matter either way. Regardless of taking my time with this relationship, building it into something usable, I know Benjamin Vico has become just as distracted with me as I am with him.
Three
Abustle of people hinder our route through the entrance. They fuss with their coats and jackets, all of them bothered about their never-ending façades in front of other guests. The boys push through them, shielding Hope from the knocks and glances our way. They’re good at that, especially Torino. He’s her guard. He doesn’t protect me; he protects her. He follows her everywhere, keeping her in his line of sight at all times until she gets back to the apartment. Only then does he leave her side.
“You play nice tonight,” I say, taking her arm to guide her around another mob of guests who are leaving. “Make the women feel welcome in town.” She glances back at me, barely an acknowledgment on her face as she moves onwards, but she damn well heard.
She hears everything I fucking say.
“Of course,” she replies, nodding.
“You ever met the Canes before?”
“No.”
I narrow my stare at her exposed shoulders as they weave through the crowds in front of me, wondering how true that is. She’s met a lot of people in her time, done a lot of things with a lot of people. They’re all people like me—criminals. I snarl at the thought, hardly able to leave behind the images that circulate in my mind, irrespective of her being mine now.
“Hope?” She turns back, a small smile replacing the blank stare of arrogance she provides to the masses around her. “You be a good girl. This is significant.” She relaxes her pace to come back to me, a gentle hand hooked through my arm, plenty of those diamonds I’ve paid for on show.
“I’m always a good girl for you.”
My brow arches as I look at her lips forming the words. A good girl is the last thing she is for anyone else. It’s the way she is, the way I’ve forced her to behave around those in my company. She’s a bitch to most, certainly other women.
I dismiss the way her lips curl up into another false smile for the rest of the world. That isn’t what my Hope Winters is. She’s real for me, a slice of dessert in the normal mundanity of business. Still, she pretends well to those around her, gives the impression of a loving partner when necessary.
Danelo opens the main doors into the restaurant, his eyes glancing at Torino as he scopes out the building in front of us. He nods and holds out a hand to guide us through, Hope the only thing he’s looking at.
“They’re at your table, Boss,” Danelo says, walking beside me. “No one’s had a drink yet.” Good. They can fucking wait until I arrive like everyone else does.
“Anything particular you need from me?” Hope asks. I slide the beads around my wrist, thinking and twisting them back and forth. I don't know yet. Not entirely.
“Quinn’s the boss. Nathan the accountant. You’ve read the file on the women and their backgrounds. Use it. Stay close to Quinn; make him interested in you. Carefully.” She nods and brushes her blonde hair over to the side of her neck, exposing those shoulders again. “Emily seems fragile. You should be able to manipulate him if I need that.”
“Okay.” She knows the rules involved in that. No touching. Nothing I can’t hear or see. “And take the women shopping tomorrow.” Again, she nods and follows me to where I’m heading, her smile firmly in place again.
The table sits up top in the far corner, a fine view of The Hattons restaurant spread out in front of it. It’s as private as it gets in here, and as informal as I need it to be tonight. It has a relaxed atmosphere, something that should make these Cane boys settle in nice and slow. I don’t know much of the accountant, only Quinn. He’s got good form but is known for explosive reactions. I don’t need that kind of old school delinquency to break my mould. New York is the polar opposite of his streets in Chicago, and my position is set above his. That tension between the brothers at his wedding means they’re an unknown quantity to me, something I’m not convinced is workable yet. Allies through dealings alone is not enough for me to let them loose on my streets. I need an offer tonight. A big one. Something to give me a reason for backing them through whatever shitstorm they’ve created with Yakuza.
