Page 60 of Rebels & Rejects

With a roll of my eyes, I sigh. “Fuck it, yeah, I’m in. Black Creek is our city, and it’s about time they realized that.” I let the resolute energy wafting off them soak into my skin, bolstering me as I lift my chin. “Let’s rain down absolute fucking mayhem.”

Epilogue

I rewind the tape again, watching for the millionth time as the brunette runs across the room before she crashes into me. No matter how many times I watch it, though, I can’t put my finger on what it is about her. There’s just this flicker ofsomethingat the back of my mind. This niggle that I know her from somewhere... but where? I definitely don’t recognize her from the club. That night I’d just assumed she was new. I rarely have anything to do with our sex clubs, but I’d stopped by to look into the accounts. Someone’s been skimming off the top of our profits, and it’s my job to find out who, and then deal with them... permanently.

Of course, when I returned the next day, no one seemed to know who she was. Is it a coincidence that she just so happened to be in the club the same night one of our most popular clients dies? I think not, and it only adds to the intrigue surrounding her.

If anyone suspected her of having killed one of our top clients, she’d already be added to my hit list, but no one but me suspects foul play. As far as everyone else is concerned, Chad died of natural causes.

I focus back on the recording just as I take off down the hall toward the dead man, and after a moment’s hesitation, where the brunette watches me, she rushes out of the club and into the night. I’ve already checked the outdoor security cameras, and none of them picked her up. It’s like she just disappeared. Blown away by the wind as soon as she stepped outside the club.

Once I reach the end of the tape, I skip it back to the beginning and play it again. Every time I get a moment alone, I watch this damn recording, trying to figure out what it is about her. Maybe my fascination is just from the fact she managed to sneak into Belle Donne and kill someone right under our noses—it speaks volumes to the holes in our security—but I feel like it’s more than that.

I hear the door to my home office open behind me, and I don’t even need to look over my shoulder to know it’s Lor. He’s the only one who has access to my house. The only one in this whole organization that I trust.

“Still haven’t figured out who she is?” he asks, watching the tape over my shoulder. Her face is pixelated and impossible to make out, but it doesn’t stop me from watching as though if I can just stare hard enough at the screen, the pixels will all slot into place and give me the answers I seek.

I slam the lid of the laptop closed with a thud. “No,” I growl.

His eyebrow lifts at my sudden outburst of anger. I never get emotional. It’s not that I don’t ever let peopleseeme emotional, but that I never actuallyfeelemotions. Something my father takes great pride in—as if he engineered me to be this way. He says I’m broken in the best possible way. That it’s a gift that will make me the most feared and powerful Don the Antonellis have ever seen. When I was a kid, I used to believe him. I’d shine under the glow of his praise, but as time went on, I started to see my inability to feel for what it really was??a curse.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve felt that spark that I think resembles feelings. Having never actually felt it for longer than a split-second, it’s difficult to identify.

The first time was when I was five, and my father beat Lor to within an inch of his life when he caught the two of us playing together. We spent a lot of time together growing up, but even at a young age, he was being trained as my bodyguard, which meant our relationship should be nothing but professional. Even back then, I knew Lor mattered more to me than anyone else did, but it wasn’t until that day, when I first felt that heat of anger and the sickening crush of fear, that I realized just how much he meant to me. The feeling was gone as quickly as it appeared, although it was there nonetheless.

The second time I felt it was in a dark, dingy alley. I’d just killed some traitor—I don’t even remember his name or what he looked like. All I remember is looking into the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. That day I went against my instincts, against everything I’d been taught, and I let a witness go with nothing but a measly warning.

I still dream of those eyes at night. They worm their way unbidden into my subconscious and stare at me, so bright and open. They feel so real that sometimes I wake up thinking she must be in the room with me. I never let myself dwell on thoughts of her during the day. I can’t afford for my father to see me distracted or to think I’m anything less than focused on the job, on our family, at all times. After all, the Antonellis are all that matter. Blood in, blood out. Not even in death can you separate yourself from the ties that bind you to the Family. As the only heir to the Antonelli empire, that is especially true of me.

Instead of stepping back from my anger like most people would, Lor moves toward me, a flicker of lust flaring to life in his eyes. “Well, I can think of one way to make you forget about her.”

I quirk one of my own eyebrows in a challenge. One he readily rises to as he closes the distance between us with another large step. The move has his body brushing against me as his lips meet mine in a rough kiss. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, fighting for dominance, and I’m quick to bite his lower lip in chastisement. His hiss of pain goes straight to my dick, the increased blood flow making it swell in my pants.

As I lose myself to pleasure, the weight of my responsibilities falls away. I forget about my father’s empire, soon to become mine. I forget about the list of names in my black book, marking a person’s death. But most importantly, for half an hour, I can forget about the blue-eyed girl and the brunette vixen that haunt my dreams.

THE END

---