Page 87 of Unorthodox
I flash him a fake smile. “Yes, Max, and maybe I’ll always be yours for what you’ve done to me. But I will never beonlyyours. I wasn’t born for that, was I?” I pull my arm from his hand, and he lets it go, his gaze hardening. “Soon enough, someone else will be beating me. Someone else will be raping me. And maybe in a moment ofweakness,” my smile widens, “it’ll keep you up at night.” My eyes roam over the dark circles beneath his. “Something already is, isn’t it?” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “You need to learn to get yourself together, Max. Your cracks are starting to show.”
“Where’s Dante?”Evora’s words are like glass shattering in the quiet room.
She’s the first person to have asked. I haven’t seen Mamie since last night, when I told her to clean up Addison’s room. She didn’t give me another lecture, and she doesn’t know what I saw Dante do.
Mamie still has a heart.
I won’t break it until Dante’s continued absence forces me to.
I tear my gaze away from the dying sun filtering through my window.
Next weekend is Luca’s fucking party. Usually, Dante would accompany me. Since he’s dead, I’ll have to take another one of my men. The prospect of finding a new personal guard is an unwelcome one.
I already miss Dante’s constant presence and quiet manner.
I don’t think about that. Instead, I focus on what lies ahead. I feel a sense of unease about bringing Addison to the party, not solely because she ran today,again.And not because of what we did last night. That memory makes my heart pick up speed, thinking of her tight pussy clenched around me, of taking her ass, switching between them, and her…not fighting me.She might have hated herself afterward, but during the moment, she loved it as much as I did.
My dick swells in my pants just thinking about it again.
But it’s notthatthat makes me uneasy. It’s because, as I should’ve expected, both parties on the end of Addison London’s sale want to see her, in the flesh.
This is not how human trafficking usually works. Typically, there are auctions, or the buyer takes his pick from a lineup. But Addison’s father has a personal interest in getting her back—to save face. He never will, but for now, I’ll appease him lest he try to do something stupid like take her back from me.
And her buyer—still caught up in his own work—is very, very insistent that she be seen in public, apparently mistrustful of my photos.
Just as I am of his. But he’s provided video evidence, and I don’t allow cameras into my home.
His evidence I can barely stomach watching, and that could be faked, except for the fact that despite the years that have passed since he was taken from me, Ollie still doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t speak, and he still makes those little noises I had to train him to hold back when he hid under my floorboard.
And there’s that scar, on the side of his head, where his brown hair doesn’t quite grow right. That scar that reminds me of another time I was too late to save him.
My chest tightens.
I shove those memories away, force myself to think of the upcoming party.
Neither man will be there in person. But they have men too. Men that apparently know my business dealings, having gotten an invitation to Luca’s party.
It’s not surprising, their connections, but it pisses me off. Still, what I’ll receive for her is enough to convince me to appease their requests.
“Where’s Dante?” Evora asks again, something like impatience in her tone.
I glance at her, see her brown eyes on mine, her brow furrowed. Her hair is down, and she’s in a white dress that I want to rip off of her and choke her with. After a day like today, I need another release. And soon, I’ll get it.
For one second, I think about Dante fucking Addison for what was likely her first time.
Just one errant thought, and I want to fucking kill him all over again.
I force the thought aside.
“He’s dead.” I walk past Evora, into the bathroom adjoining my room. I don’t want to be around her when she takes in the news. Instead, I glance at my reflection as I unbutton my shirt. The circles under my eyes are deepening. I think about grabbing a sleeping pill from the medicine cabinet, which is built into the wall, behind the mirror.
But without Dante guarding me, I don’t trust anyone enough to sleep that deeply.
“Dead?” Evora repeats, her heels clacking against the wooden floors of my bedroom as she comes to stand in the doorway. She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at me. “Are you kidding?”
As if I ever tell jokes. “No.” I shrug off my shirt, turn my back to Evora and head to my walk-in closet, through the bathroom. Dropping the shirt into the laundry basket, I undo my belt, set my gun and phone on the dresser in the middle of the closet, and pull off my pants.
