Page 91 of Forgotten Deeds

I square my jaw. “Red.”

He smiles, and it’s a fucking terrifying sight. “You’re going to give me the green light soon, wifey, and when you do?” He nudges me with his dick. “I’m going to fucking destroy this pussy, because you seem to have forgotten who it belongs to.” Squatting down, he takes a deep breath with his nose at my crotch. Looking up at me, he says, “Think you can play games with the devil and not get your wings singed, aggeloudhi mou? Keep toying with Diávolos, and you’ll find out.”

With that, he stands and unlocks the bathroom door, flinging it open as he stalks out.

My heart racing, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Eyes dilated, I tell myself it’s because I’m afraid. Nipples hard, I likewise justify it due to fear. But there’s no mental gymnastics I can do to explain why my panties are soaked with desire.

* * *

Exiting my lawyer’s office, I’ve just signed the necessary paperwork to open the probate estate. My next task is meeting with a realtor at Harrison’s place.

I let myself inside with the key, flipping on the lights. Something looks different, and it takes me a moment to realize the television and gaming system are gone. Hurrying to the guest bedroom, my eyes go wide when I find a gaping hole in the closet floor—someone’s cut the safe out and taken it.

Quickly exiting the room, I hurry to the kitchen to find the back door hanging on its hinges. I sprint out of the house and hop in my SUV, getting the hell out of here just in case the intruder decides to come back.

I drive until I’m a safe distance away, pulling into the parking lot of a gas station. Texting the realtor we need to reschedule, I’m about to call Ethan next, but my hand pauses on his contact. He’ll tell me to file a police report, and that’s the last thing I want to do. The cops would have to survey the damage, and that would raise too many questions about the safe.

Swallowing my pride, I call Darius. “Wifey,” he answers cheerfully.

“Could you send Parisi Construction over to Harrison’s house to fix the back door?” I get straight to the point.

“What’s wrong with the back door?”

“Someone broke into the house and stole the television and gaming system. I didn’t hang around to see if anything else had been taken.” I don’t tell him the entire truth; the missing safe and the money I swiped my little secret.

“Good. Don’t go back to the house. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks,” I tell him.

“Of course. What would wifey like for dinner? Want me to stop and grab takeout?”

“We’re not playing the ‘happy couple’ game, Darius,” I warn.

“What game do you want to play?” he asks, his voice dropping in timbre. “Because I know exactly what game I want to play with you. I’d tie you to our bed, and—”

“Bye,” I say, ending the call.

* * *

Darius

I’ve already killed Ethan in my mind twenty-seven times. My favorite version is me hanging him up by his thumbs and cutting off his dick; I’d shove the tiny, severed member in his mouth to muffle his cries of agony as I gouge out his eyes. I might even pull a Sammy—try my hand at skinning Ethan alive while I’m at it.

The only thing stopping me from turning this fantasy into a reality is Lily would never forgive me. Since I’ve got enough shit I need her forgiveness on, I’m not going to add Ethan’s death to the list. For now. I make no promises about the future.

As for my pent up aggression, too bad for the fucker I’ve got strung up inside this warehouse. “Sorry about that,” I say, walking back over to my workstation and pocketing my phone. Putting on my gloves and moving my face shield back into place, I ask, “Now, where were we?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because this gentleman has already had his tongue cut out.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get to you momentarily,” I tell his business partner who’s tied up and gagged, watching in horror. Or maybe I won’t. I might let the partner live, if only to tell the tale about Diávolos. A cautionary tale for anyone else who thinks they’re going to pull one over on me. Gave them extra time to pay up, and they had the fucking nerve to try and give me the slip? That simply won’t do.

Grabbing a scalpel, I make a large incision, removing a nice chunk of the man’s liver as he makes an ungodly whimpering sound, all the while blood sprays everywhere. “You have a fatty liver, my man,” I announce, slapping a piece of it onto the table next to his tongue. “I would recommend some lifestyle changes, but well, it’s a little late for that.”

The partner thrashes against the restraints; his terror permeating the room. I take a deep inhale, and smile. “Thought you could escape Diávolos? You thought wrong.”

Just like Lily’s wrong in thinking she can keep me at arm’s length. Only a matter of time before she breaks; that, or Diávolos breaks her. She better hope she breaks of her own volition.

Chapter Thirty-Six

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