Page 41 of Vicious Intentions

I wasn’t surprised I had no answer. Or maybe I was terrified that if I admitted my feelings, I’d break the slight tether I still had to the beautiful girl with the stunning eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” He walked away and I was surprised. Maybe he was softening in his old age.

“Chuck. Let me have another one.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Augustine.”

As I watched Cain leave, another pang of guilt and remorse settled into my system. The three of us were fucked up men living an emotionless life.

And as had occurred several times before, I wondered what would have happened had fate not torn the four of us apart.

* * *

“I don’t give a shit what your problems are, Bart. We had a deal, and you’re going to uphold every clause in the fucking contract.” As I paced the floor of the hotel corridor, I was surprised how angry I’d become. I’d been working on a deal with the man’s firm for almost six months, the connection and contract we’d entered allowing for additional distribution of my family’s products into several countries. The fact that he was attempting to yank back on the deal at the twelfth hour was infuriating.

And unacceptable.

“You don’t own me or my company, Hunter. We can do what we want. Besides, I heard you were dirty. Read all about it.”

Fuck me. He was attempting to go down that road? There were just as many articles praising my corporation as attempting to undermine it. However, whatever he’d read had him on edge.

Bart had no idea what kind of wrath I could bring down on his firm, including destroying his reputation. There was very little I wouldn’t do to ensure the contract went through as planned.

Including violence.

For years, I’d thought of myself as a different animal than either Cain or Cristiano, but my methods of procuring business had taken a much darker side. I owned the unions in Philly, had control over several politicians, and had enough power to alter every financial institution, real estate development firm, and manufacturing corporation in the city and beyond.

People were terrified of what I could do, and I’d earned myself a savage reputation that far exceeded the control my father had held during his prime. In turn, I’d increased the family’s wealth by billions of dollars.

I’d been forced to face the fact I was no different than my two friends, my mannerisms and that of very trusted enforcers within my organization akin to how the mafia handled their business activities. What I’d also learned was that with every success, every dollar added to my bank account, I’d become even more of a cold, vile man.

Did that mean I wasn’t happy?

The jury was out on that one. The old adage was true that money couldn’t buy happiness.

I took a deep breath before answering. “I’m going to say this to you once. Fuck with me and face the consequences.”

“You don’t scare me, Augustine. If you dare try and interfere, I’ll ruin you.”

It would seem I’d been too soft on the man. That would change. “Let the games begin.” I ended the call, hoping he’d begin looking over his shoulder, worrying about what I could and would do.

I’d crush the man and his corporation like a bug.

Then I’d take over his entire operation. Perhaps coming to Chicago had been inspirational.

I shoved my phone into my jacket, running my fingers through my hair as the lilting sound of a song finally drew me out of my enraged fog. I was drawn to the woman’s beautiful voice instantly, the husky tone as she belted out a powerful rock song unlike anything I’d ever heard.

I hadn’t planned on taking Cain up on his recommendation, music never soothing the savage beast, yet the song and the singer drew me in. I found myself opening the door to the packed auditorium, the neon lights swirling around the stage suggesting a raunchy, entertaining set.

While the expansive room was huge, the atmosphere was meant to seem quaint and cozy. The tablecloths were crimson, and on each table was a single candle, the flickering light unable to take away from the lightshow on stage. I was lucky to find an empty table near the back. As I took my seat, my eyes never left the entertainment.

The singer was dressed provocatively in tight leather pants, a shimmering crimson top and thigh high boots, her long blonde curls shifting back and forth across her shoulders as she moved from one side of the stage to the other. The energy in the room was electric, the guests mesmerized by her stage presence. Even from my vantage point, which was far removed from the platform, I was able to admire her beauty.

She had a voice that tingled every muscle, the thumping beat of the drums as she powered out a song mimicking the thudding of my heartbeat. When the song ended, she threw back her arms and the crowd went wild, the standing ovation well-deserved.

I remained in my seat, ordering a drink from the lovely waitress as soon as she approached. Perhaps the set was over, which would be a shame. When the lights dimmed until only twinkling lights crisscrossed the front of the stage, I leaned forward.

The singer eased a stool from behind the curtains, taking her place with only a microphone in her hand. I wasn’t expecting the soft strains of an acoustic guitar as her only accompaniment. She lowered her head, holding the microphone in both hands. When she began to sing, I was floored at the change in her voice. After a few seconds, I had no idea what words she was singing, only concentrating on how emotional the performance had become.

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