Page 22 of Devious
To break the tension between us, I say, “Thank you for sparing my life.”
He nods. “Follow me.”
I swallow loudly, and I follow him out of the room, noting that we’re passing different rooms, and a few of the maids, dressed in white, are cleaning them.
We reach a floor-to-ceiling window. Next to it is an elevator, so I step inside next to him, and he taps the Up button. The door whistles as it closes. How much money is Devious is worth? I know he’s a billionaire, he’s my father’s boss, after all.
“How much billions are you worth?” I chew on the end of my thumb nail.
He cocks his eyebrow. “Don’t you meanwe?”
I shake my head, and rock on my heels. “I don’t have any money, Cayden. I’m broke.”
He looks down at me, his demeanor stiff and hard.
The elevator doors slide open, and I look at a room. Different paintings hang on the wall. Lavender hits my nostrils, and I step onto the pale wooden floors.
“We’re worth thirty-eight billion dollars. As long as you’re my wife, you’re rich too. I’ll give you access to my bank accounts, once I know I can trust you not to leave me. You have to earn that, and I’ll make sure to provide you with everything you need.”
I notice there is a lot of art stuff around: oil paints, canvases, stuff to make sculptures, and a few shelves filled with fiction books, and next to them is a colorful beanbag.
“Do you get your billions from your illegal businesses? How come you don’t have any of the Feds coming after you?”
I keep my eyes glued to the paintings on the wall. It’s like he bought the whole damn store.
“I have legal businesses, and I use my illegal money to launder through them, which makes our network over fifteen billion. Plus, I’m protected by the American Gods.”
“What do you own?”
“I own apartment buildings, gas stations, hotels, plus the Feds wouldn’t come after me anyways because they are benefiting from us.” He leans against the wall and slides his fingers into his pockets.
“Oh.” I crinkle my nose. “My father doesn’t tell me what goes on in the mafia.”
“He’s not supposed to.”
“Then why are you telling me?”
“Now, let’s go over the ground rules,” he says, ignoring my question.
I sit on a stool in front of him, and he looks at my mouth, then his crotch.Sick bastard.Probably imagining me sucking his dick. Now I’m imagining it. I feel my cheeks warming.
“You’re not allowed to leave the property. If you need anything, you let Marla know. She will come by to check on you, or you can let the maid know that cleans your room.” He looks around the sunlit room. “Your father told me you love art, so I made this room to be yours. It was supposed to be a wedding present. But, you know, you ruined that night.” He looks at his smartwatch. “I have to go work, I’m late.”
He steps back into the elevator, his eyes not leaving mine as the door closes.
Why would he give me an art room for a wedding present? That was very sweet of him to do this, and maybe he has a heart. Maybe he is sweet. He did spare my life after I tried to kill him.
No, Roselyn,do notfall for his charms. He’s your enemy and he’s holding you captive, and you’re forced to pay a debt your father owed. You’re a business transaction. Nothing more and nothing less. He wants to fuck you, use you like a sex toy and discard you like old shoes. He also killed Tommy, an innocent person. Get out of your head. Stick to the plan and escape this hellhole.
Devious
Aweek goes by, and a guard opens up the steel door. Matteo stands up from the glass desk. He offers his hand, and I shake it, patting him on the back.
“Devious. Sit,” he says. There is a hint of an Italian accent in his voice. The last time I was here, he didn’t have pictures of his wife, Jasmine, or his daughter, Luna, on his desk. The office is industrial style, clean and neat, with a wet bar sitting next to the window overlooking the empty dance floor. I sit in the metal chair across from him and have my three bodyguards stand behind me.
He opens a leather case of expensive cigars and offers me one. “What brings you to my side of the fence?”
I shake my head, then cross my leg over my thigh. “First things first. Congratulations on the newborn. How is Jasmine?”
