Page 35 of When Sinners Fall
“Good.”
And then she just sits there picking at whatever high-end breakfast she’s eating today. I’m about to turn and walk away, if that’s all this was about, when she sighs about something.
“I have a proposal to make,” she says. I frown. Never did like the kind of crap she comes up with when she says that word. “A union.” My brow arches, hands shoving in my pockets. “It would be a good match for you, and us.”
“No.”
She takes the glasses off and looks at me sternly, so I look back at the pool. “You don’t even know who I’m talking about.”
“Don’t need to. You’re not marrying me off to get a deal. Try Shaw.”
“Shaw isn’t right for the Ortegas.” I turn back at her, some amount of intrigue making me wonder what that family has to do with us other than drugs we allow in our space. “We all know he’s a little… fragile.”
Probably, but I’m still not walking down an aisle with someone from that family because she wants me to. I’ll stand up for this one until the fucking sky implodes, kill or maim anything I’m told to, but my dick only goes where I want it to go. “It’s still a goddamn no.” She glares. Makes no difference at all. She can’t bully me around like she does the others or cajole me like she does with Abel. “Is that all?”
“You shouldn't be so difficult, Dante. It would be a good match. She's really quite beautiful.”
I don’t comment. I light a smoke and stare out to the pool as she tries the silence tactic to make me reconsider. There's nothing to talk or think about as far as I'm concerned. And I'm not difficult either. I'm pretty fucking straightforward. It's just I don't bend for her because she never damn well did for me. She made the choices that brought us here. She chose money and power over feelings of any kind. If she wants to argue that, she can take a look in the goddamn mirror to see what she created. I'm a direct product of her. I'm exactly what she wanted and made me into. Probably the coldest of us all, ruthless and numb as fuck.
The smoke gets dropped to the floor, stubbed out under my shoe. “You done?”
She sighs again, trying to dramatise my reluctance as a pain in her ass. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
I’m turning and leaving before she can get another word out. Bitch. A clever one, I’ll give her that, and one who has built all this around her, but she couldn’t keep it without us now, and she knows it. We’re her power and her legacy. She’s got zero say over where that legacy goes after she’s dead and gone, as far as I’m concerned.
The phone’s ringing again by the time I’m out on the freeway and heading back to Wren’s house. I answer this time and listen to Wren talking about this not working, about the fact that she can’t just drop everything when I say she should. She can, and will. I keep listening, though, mainly because I like hearing her talk, and especially because I like her getting all hostile with me. It gives me more leverage to do shit to her that she won’t like.
I end the call halfway through her sentence as I’m turning into her avenue and pull over at the house. I’m hammering on the door at the same time as she’s probably still talking to me on the phone. She comes to open it, eyes wide at me as I walk straight past her and into the main room. There’s a bag half-packed on the table, clothes strewn around the room.
“Get what you need, Wren. Now. Or you’ll be leaving with nothing.”
She comes round in front of me, all hands on hips and attitude. “Dante, no. I can’t. Please. I’m in the middle of a wedding. Kind of. And this happening every night is-”
“Don’t care. You gonna pack or not?”
“I HAVE A JOB!”
“Yeah? So do I. I need to go do it, and you’re coming with me.” I check my watch. “You’ve got three minutes.” She doesn’t move. Not one goddamn step. Fine.
My shoulder is at her waist and I’m slinging her over mine to get her to the car. She bitches a bit about that, but then starts laughing as I get out the house and bite her ass. Pretty sound, that. Husky. Dirty.
Just the way I like it.
“Oh god, no wait. The door, and my bag and phone.” I trudge back up there and let her reach for them from my shoulder. “Laptop!” We get that too and then go back down. The door’s slammed, and I keep walking. “I still need clothes, and this is not okay by the way.”
I open the car door and shove her inside, getting a good smell of her hair as I do. “You don’t need shit other than your skin.”
We’re travelling the second I get her seatbelt in place, and she’s staring at me the entire way to the airstrip, appraising me maybe. Guess she hasn’t seen me in a suit before. I chuckle, light a smoke, and keep going, listening as she starts talking to someone on the phone. It rings pretty much straight after she’s finished, so she goes off into another discussion about venues and flowers. She’s still looking at me, though. Still full of attitude. Still half smiling at the fact that she’s been taken without true consent on the matter.
My hand eventually grabs her thigh because, fuck, she’s turning me on with all that business talk. And then my fingers wander up to expose skin and get under that skirt. She shakes her head, tries stopping me by grabbing my hand. Won’t work. I make a point of that by shunting her thighs wider and digging my fingers in to make sure she opens up for me. I’m sliding inside her pussy as she tries to keep talking, all the time listening to her trying to concentrate on the phone.
A broad smile stretches on my face as I blow out some smoke and pull into the airstrip. Fine ass pussy in one hand, and a smoke and Mustang in the other. Life's looking better lately. The ground under us jostles her thighs, making me rub places she wasn’t ready for. A groan comes out of her, which makes her slap a hand over her mouth and glare at me.
I laugh and eventually slide my fingers out of her, sucking them dry one by one. She gawps at that as we make our way along the dirt road. She licks her lips and fans her face, then shakes her head and carries on talking.
The jet’s already waiting out on the runway with the steps down, so I pull into the hangar and start getting our bags from the trunk. She’s out of the car by the time I get them, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open as she keeps trying to talk to someone. I keep moving and grab the phone from her hand, ending the damn call for her so we can get this show on the road.
“Hey!” she says, reaching for it in my hand. I hold it up high and carry on walking, listening to her heels click on the tarmac as she tries jumping for it.
