Page 7 of The Bones We Break
“Of course sir, whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it.” I try to make myself sound convincing. I’ve only ever been just a run around for Mr. Franklin, never really being given full responsibility or the chance to show my worth. Maybe I’m finally being noticed. Like I’m actually getting somewhere in this job. Mr. Franklin’s eyes bore into me as he gives me a brief overview of what I’m needed for.
“The client owns a very prestigious casino and he needs us to represent him in a case.” I jot all this down so I don’t forget any details. “The case is against a certain individual, the names are irrelevant at the moment.” His hand shoos the air away. “Who owes our client quite a substantial amount of money. So, Annabelle. You need to be fully focused on this. I want everything you have to be put into this case. It’s very high profile and I intend to keep up my reputation.” He scolds me like a petulant child, my eyes dip, but I nod my head anyway, agreeing to the terms.
“I understand, sir. When will I be meeting with our client? I can clear my schedule to suit his needs.” I offer, doing all I can to prove how serious I am about this. Mr. Franklin leans over the desk to press the intercom button on the phone, the direct line taking him straight to the front desk of our floor. The line crackles slightly before an answer comes through the speaker.
“Yes, Mr. Franklin, how can I help?” Sarah’s voice breaks through the crackle of the phone. I’ve never really spoken toSarah much, she’s very quiet, likes to keep to herself, I don’t blame her. “Can you send our client into my office, Sarah.”
“Yes, sir. He’s on his way to you now.” My boss doesn’t bother to thank her, then sits back in his chair and interlaces his fingers over his round stomach, the small buttons barely holding his gut in. After a couple of minutes one of the double doors of the office opens and I’m hit with an expensive aroma of cedar and bergamot, the scent hitting my nostrils and infiltrating my senses. I’m stunned for a split second, my memory racing on overdrive trying to place where I’ve smelt it before. Before I can think of an answer, a rich baritone sound makes its way through the office. It can’t be, can it? This cannot be the same man who has been invading my thoughts for days since the night at Crimson.
“Thanks for having me Brandon.” So we’re already on a first name basis, I see. The mystery man makes his way into my periphery, extending his tanned hand to my boss, giving him a firm handshake. One that screams power.
“It’s my absolute pleasure, Ricky.” Mr. Franklin says, his tone completely different to how he just spoke to me, his ego fell down a peg. Ricky lifts his trouser legs at the knees before taking a seat in the opposite chair from me, crossing his ankle over his knee.
“Annabelle, this is Mr. Ricky De Rossi.” Mr. Franklin regards me, knocking me out of my daze. I clear my throat and gather myself before turning to face our client. Holy shit. This man has been sculpted by the gods above and sent down to torment our poor souls. I shove that thought away instantly, gulp away the dry cotton ball that’s in my throat, and extend my hand to Mr. De Rossi. His smooth, rich skin skates over my hand, taking it into a firm, but not hurtful grip. Ricky shakes it once before letting go, gently running his slender fingers down mine beforeall contact is cut. My skin sizzles from the connection and I grip my hand around my notebook again to give the appendage something to do. His deep, blue eyes, almost like rough oceans, bore into mine. I’m captured. Tangled in his trap. Unable to look away. Mr. Franklin clears his throat before resuming our meeting.
“Annabelle here will assist you with everything you need. Nothing is off limits to get you the win you deserve in this case.” I feel Mr. De Rossi’s burning gaze at the side of my face before he turns to look at my boss.
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be putting Annabelle to work in no time. I’ve heard she’s an absolutepleasureto work with.” A shiver works its way up my spine at the way he speaks, his voice is enthralling and full of authority. I pluck up the courage to face the beautiful creature and give him my best smile.
“I’m glad to be of service, Mr. De Rossi.”
“Please, call me Ricky.” He says with a charming smile, his pearly teeth peeking between his full, plump lips. I bite the inside of my lip before replying.
“Ricky it is then.”
He chuckles to himself before rising from the chair, extending a hand to me. I pause for a moment, a slight wariness washes over me, then quickly leaves, before I place my hand in his, the tingling sensation coming back tenfold as I stand up from the chair, drop Ricky’s hand, and tuck my arm around my notepad again. Anything to keep me grounded at this moment. Mr. Franklin circles his desk before opening the door for Ricky, gesturing him and myself out of his office.
“Annabelle will see you out, won’t you?” He turns to me and I simply nod, knowing he’s already decided for me.
“Right this way please.” I say to Ricky, exiting the office firstand making my way across the polished floor to the elevator at the end of the hallway. I feel his burning presence at my back as we make the short journey. Like a heavy shadow that’s ready to consume me. Turning on my feet to face Ricky, I lift my chin to meet his gaze. He must stand at least a foot taller than me. His pressed, black suit fitting him like a glove, not an inch is out of place. The dirty blonde strands of his hair are styled with precision, the sides neatly shaved. His strong jaw has a smattering of stubble across it, nothing too noticeable, but it’s definitely there if you look close enough, just like I am now.
Before I even find my voice to tell him goodbye, I’m pulled into his embrace, his rough jaw grazing my skin as his mouth reaches my ear. I hold my breath for a moment, not really knowing where this situation is going to go. Ricky’s unique scent takes over my senses, my synapses fire through my brain like a lightning storm.
“I’ll be in touch,sweetheart.” The pet name washes over me like a tidal wave that’s threatening to drown me. Ricky releases me from his grasp, then steps into the elevator with ease, his presence alone takes up the metal box, like it has its own orbit and everything around it will be sucked into the black hole. Never to be seen again. His dark gaze never leaves mine as the doors begin to close, severing the connection and I instantly release the breath I was holding in, my lungs screaming for air. My palm finds the wall as I try to find my balance, using it as a lifeline.
Thiscan’tbe happening. This isn’t real.
The dark stranger from Crimson, is my new client.
Do all fathers teach their 18 year old sons the art of murder and torture, or just mine?
Not only am I being taught how to flay the skin from human bones, but I relish in it, I’ve learned to crave it, to thrive off the kill. The control it feeds into my bloodstream like a permanent high. No amount of drugs could ever give me the same feeling as this.
Look, I know what you’re thinking.
“He’s being groomed.”
“It’s nurture over nature.” All that bullshit, but no, you’re wrong. You’re all fucking wrong. I want this. I.. need this. And in my opinion, it’s what I’m best at. Just ask my father.
The bitch hanging from the ceiling of our basement has done nothing but cry since we dragged her down here. It’s becoming annoying now, the petulant noise scraping through my ears like a fork scratching over the surface of a plate, but I can’t rush this process to silence her. I want to take my time with her. You should really get to know a girl before you commit to her, right? So, that’s what I’m doing, I’m getting to know her.Inside and out. My father stands at the doorway, the warm light from up stairs that filters down casts an almost angelic glow behind him. But he’s far from innocent, he might even be Satan himself, and I am satan’s spawn. His sinister voice echoes around the damp room, the musty smell of wetness seeping into my nose.
“I’ll leave this one up to you, son. I know you’ll make me proud.” I beam under his pride, wanting to make him proud of me, to bask in that gratification.
I circle the meat sack that’s slowly swaying on the chains, her toes barely grazing the filthy floor. Her fingers are beginning to turn purple at the tips from her weight, like puffed up aubergines, the rusty metal cuffs cutting into her perfect flesh. Her head hangs limp between her shoulders, the filthy, blonde strands of her hair covering her once perfect face. She’s bruised now, like an overly ripe fruit, her insides mushy and rotten. God, she stinks, it’s disgusting. I turn my nose up at her whilst taking slow strides around her. Circling the prey that’s caught in my trap. A wounded animal that needs to be put out of its misery. And thanks to me, I’ll grant her that. But not until I’ve had my fun with her.
A metal table sits to the left of the room, containing everything I need to make this hurt. The bitch whimpers as I disappear out of her view, a muffled sound comes from her gagged mouth, the shitty piece of material keeping her words locked in her mouth. She’s probably begging, pleading for me to let her go. That she won’t tell a soul who I am, or what she’s seen here. But I won’t risk it, then again, I’m not worried. I reach the metal table and run my fingers over the weapons. Knives of all sizes lay flat against the table top, some with smooth blades, some serrated. I pick one up, holding the black handle in my right hand, feeling the weight of it, then pointingthe tip to my left index finger and spinning it, causing a small bead of blood to rise to the surface.
Not quite right. Placing it back down, I continue to browse like a kid in a candy shop. Except I’m almost a grown man in a torture room, but you get what I mean. I pick another knife up from the table, this one slightly smaller in size, but still deadly. The silver blade gleaming in the overhead light. Wrapping my fingers around the knife, I squeeze the handle in my hand, tightening my grip around the leather. I think we’ll go with this one to start off.
