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Wickedly Twisted 33
CaraI'm standing on the balcony looking out at the lake when Eros comes home. The sun's setting over the water and the colors sparkle with the waves, and I force myself to turn away and meet his gaze."Always beautiful," he says, staring at me and not at the water.I feel myself blush. "How was your day?""Uneventful." He joins me at the railing. "The Italians are making noise, but nothing I didn't expect.""Really? Are you okay?""We're fine. You worry more about yourself." He glances at me. "I haven't spoken to you much since dinner. Are you holding up okay?"I grimace slightly and stare down at my hands. I'm not sure how I'm feeling—it's really hard to piece it all together. He tried to warn me that things would be difficult, but I didn't really believe him, not until Anissa was standing there calling me a piece of trash to my face at least."Your sister visited me today at work."His eyebrows raise. "Really? She set foot in that little diner? Amazing."I give him a look. "Why do
Wickedly Twisted 34
CaraI'm a nervous wreck all the next day at the diner. I keep thinking about Eros, the paperwork, becoming the Greek crime lord's wife, everything that goes along with my new position in the world—and it scares me half to death.But it's better than being out on the street with nothing but a pair of expensive vintage sneakers to my name and a violent, angry ex-husband trying to hunt me down.I keep catching looks from the made guys hanging around. I'm not sure if they know what's happening tonight, but I keep wondering if they're going to come up to congratulate me. Instead, they remain silent, keep their distance like always, and I'm left alone with my anxiety."You okay, girl?" Phel asks midway through the afternoon, once the lunch rush is over. "You've been jittery all day.""It's nothing, I'm fine." I give her my best smile. It feels completely false.Phel leans against the counter, eyebrows raised. "Ooookay, right, so what's up? You look like you're about to vibrate out of your
Wickedly Twisted 35
CaraThe coffee is warm and strong. It tastes good as I step out into the alley behind the diner. There isn't exactly fresh air since the dumpsters make the whole place smell faintly like garbage, but at least back here I can sit down on the concrete and get my head together.I knew this was happening. Marrying Eros was always part of the plan.Now it's real.He protects me from Christopher. I provide him with some legitimacy in his family. It's mutually beneficial—and won't last forever. Someday, maybe someday soon, we'll go our separate ways.But I keep thinking about him, about his hands on my hips and his mouth against mine, his low laughter, the way he spreads my legs. I think of being with him, being with him for real—not for some short time, not for weeks or months, but years, an entire lifetime. Could I be the crime lord's wife? Could I give him children and live in this world?I don't know. It scares me, but it also fascinates me.The power and the drama, the terror and the e
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ErosShe looks so small in that enormous bed as Dr. Kalivas checks her over. The Greek doctor is an old friend of the Khazan family, but I can't stop myself from hovering closely, making sure Cara is completely safe."She'll be okay," the old doctor says and gives me a tired smile. "All she needs is rest.""Are you sure? There's no head injury? No concussion?""No, nothing like that, only minor lacerations. She'll bruise, but I've patched the minor cuts. She'll be okay."Relief floods me. "Thank you, doctor."He nods and leaves the room. Lycus will pay him on the way out.For now, I have eyes only for Cara.She smiles at me, sitting up straight in bed, her hands folded in her lap. "I'll be honest, I thought the wedding certificate signing would be the most eventful part of today."I laugh softly then sit on the edge of the bed. I put my hand on her leg as I stare into her eyes, my stomach a churning mess of desire and anxiety. "The doctor says you're okay.""He's right, Eros, I'm fine
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ErosI pace across the basement beneath a recording studio we own on the south side of the city, snarling like a tiger.Hector Constantinou hangs by his wrists from a reinforced steel pipe, blood dripping from his beaten and mangled face, his shirtless torso turning purple from the bruises blotting his flesh.My muscles ache. My fists burn from where the flesh was scraped off, smashing Hector's ugly face over and over. I've been working him for the last hour, ignoring his pleas to stop, ignoring everything but his pain.Hate flows from me like a flood, and I don't know how to stop it.I don't know if I want to.I tilt Hector's chin up and make him look me in the eye. He's a big guy, older, in his early forties. The kind of Khazan family lifer that would've been happy sitting around a diner eating gyros until he died of a heart attack at fifty. Except he ended up here instead."Who ordered it?" I ask him, enunciating each word nice and slow."Zale," he whispers. "Zale set it up." He co
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CaraI stand in my closet, stomach a churning mess, looking at all the dresses hanging on the racks. I move through them, one at a time.None of them are me. They're all expensive, designer, the sort of thing that would cost more money than I've ever had in my life. They're all my size and fit like a dream, but none of them are mine.I close my eyes and try not to think about that big thug Hector pulling me from the alley. I try not to think about Christopher staring at me from the car with that smile on his face.Like he was going to own me again and couldn't wait to drag me through hell."Wear white."I start and turn around. Eros's standing in the doorway, looking at me. He's in a black suit with a dark tie, his hair combed back, looking more put-together than he has in a while."I thought we were keeping it casual?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly. Nerves jangle down into my fingertips. I'm more nervous than I realized."You're the bride. Wear white." He walks to me and brushes a
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Cara"To marriage." Eros raises his glass and I raise mine."To the Khazan family," I say with a smile.He seems conflicted about that toast but nods and drinks. I sip my wine, eyeing him cautiously. Lycus, Helen, and Gareth left ten minutes ago, and now I'm alone in our room with Eros. He's sitting close, our thighs touching, the fireplace crackling with a low flame. I can feel the tension in his body."Can I ask you something?" I glance at him, feeling nervous.He nods. "It's our wedding night. You can ask me anything.""Why did you mother say she didn't think you'd ever get married?"His smile is soft. "She worries too much, but in this case, I can't blame her. I was never interested in marriage until I met you.""Are you worried our arrangement will—you know, hurt your mother?"He nods slowly. "I've thought about that. Although my mother puts on the facade of a grieving widow, she's a Khazan to her core. She understands these things can be necessary. Besides, even if our marriage
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CaraI wake up to the smell of coffee and pancakes."Good morning, asteraki mu." Eros's sitting up in bed, shirtless, with a tray of food in his lap. "I was debating whether I'd let you sleep in or not."I blink, groggy, and shuffle closer. "Is this breakfast in bed?""Since I cannot provide you with a proper honeymoon, I hoped this would help ease the disappointment.""It's a start." I accept the coffee then take a sip. "I could get used to this, you know."He laughs lowly and leans down to kiss me gently. I kiss him back, surprised by the gesture. It's not like the kiss last night—that was passion, pure sex and desire.This is a small kiss, an intimate kiss. The kind of kiss I'd share with a real partner.With a real husband.He seems to realize what he just did and pulls back slightly. There's a moment of quiet as he shifts the tray and places it in my lap. "There you go," he says as he climbs out of bed. "Eat, enjoy. I have work.""Where are you going?" I watch him walk to the sho
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Wickedly Twisted Epilogue
ScarI sit at the bar in the Oak Club and sip a fine whiskey. It's peaty, warm, almost sweet. I hold it up to the light and watch the gold glow."You guys ever think we'd end up like this?" I ask, not looking at my brothers, but knowing they're beside me.Eros says, "Not once. But here we are.""I kind of figured I'd get hitched," Ford admits. "But I never thought I'd actually like her.""Same," Carmine says and laughs. "I figured I'd get stuck with some mafia princess brat.""Strange, how it goes," I say, grinning at them. "Here's to family.""Here's to that," Eros echoes.We toast each other. Four of the five men in the Atlas Organization. "I wish Lanzo were here," Ford says with a sigh."He'll be back," Eros says, then hesitates and shrugs. "Or maybe not. You never know with that guy.""He's going to be really surprised to hear that all four of his friends are married." I turn to look at the nearby table where are wives are sitting. Kat and Brice. Cara and Rita. All four of them be
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ScarOrin Callahan does not sound happy.I'm back in my Dallas office. The new secretary is outside my door—a young man named Brian. Janine said he came highly recommended. We'll see about that."I'll be straight with you, Scarfoni," he says, and I note that I'm not Scar anymore. "I thought we had an understanding. You come to Boston, you work for my family, you get access to power you never dreamed about before. Do I really have to spell it out?""No, sir, you don't," I say, looking at the window. Thinking about my wife at her office right now. My real wife. "Unfortunately, Rita got a job here in Dallas, a job that I can't ask her to leave. I either stay here with her, or we do the long-distance thing, like I mentioned. I decided long distance won't work. I won't be leaving Dallas after all."Orin grunts, his annoyance obvious. "That's not acceptable.""It's the way things are. I wish it worked out differently.""You're making a mistake, Scarfoni. I'll give you another chance—""With
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RitaI'm exhausted when I get back to the apartment.I was right, the first day wasn't too hard. A girl named Easter ("Mom was a hippie, Dad was a Catholic, they compromised.") showed me around, introduced me to the team, and started with my training once I filled out a ton of paperwork for HR. She's small and extremely sweet, but talked really fast, and I found myself struggling to keep up as she threw a ton of information at me all at once.Now I'm feeling like I ran a marathon. I toss my bag down near the door, kick my beautiful shoes off near the entryway, ignore the fact that they gave me blisters, and hurry into the main room.It smells incredible. "What is that?" I ask as Scar welcomes me from the kitchen."Dinner," he says, holding up a bottle. "And champagne." He pops off the cork.I laugh as he pours two glasses. "What's all this for?""A celebration. To your first day.""Oh, yeah? You cooked and cracked open a bottle of bubbly for me?""I didn't cook, I bought some good Ita
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RitaMonday morning. I'm awake way earlier than I need to be—four on the dot—but I can't get back to sleep.It's the first day of a new job.I'm nervous. I'd be crazy if I weren't at least a little bit nervous. The first day should be the easiest though—they won't expect me to do anything serious, not until I'm acclimated with the office, with the basic stuff like email and logging into the computer and all that crap.I'll meet my coworkers, my bosses. I'll smile, make small talk, try to fit in.And for some reason, I'm terrified.I take a shower to calm my nerves. I get out and spend the next half hour second-guessing my outfit choice, parading one work-appropriate blouse around toward different work-appropriate slacks and skirts, trying to get just the right shoes. After a solid hour, I'm too tired to keep messing around and end up on a simple navy-and-gray ensemble. I'll get a feel for what the rest of the office wears and match a little bit better next time, but this should be fin
Wickedly Twisted 54
ScarGregory Callahan sits across from me in a barbecue restaurant he picked out. The place is almost garish, a gaudy mix of cowboy clichés: big hats, boots, spurs, ropes, steer, bison, more than one stuffed head, a bunch of bleached antlers, and a ton of rustic-looking wood completes the hideous decor."Never been here before," I say, glancing around, trying my best not to make a face."I hear the food's good," Gregory says without smiling. I genuinely can't tell if he's kidding or not. "But we're not here to eat.""We could order something," I say, craning my neck, looking for a waitress, suddenly curious."No, thank you." Gregory sits back in his booth. "This place is neutral ground. Somewhere you or your friends would never visit. It's also ugly enough that I want to spend as little time here as possible. So why don't we get to business?"I sit up straight, holding his gaze. "Whatever you want," I say, gesturing at him. "You called this meeting, Gregory. Why don't you tell me what
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ScarI can't stay in that apartment.Not after trying to kiss her like a fucking idiot.I knew it was wrong—and I tried to do it anyway.I'm glad she pushed me away, even if I wanted to keep going.Even if I wouldn't have stopped.I fly out of Dallas the following morning, early. I leave her a note: Heading to Chicago on business. Sorry about yesterday. Scar. Hopefully she doesn't hold my stupid decisions against me, but then again, what does it matter?I'm leaving. She's staying. It's over—whatever it was."I didn't push her into the job to get rid of her," I say, sitting at a fancy bar. The soft murmur of conversation swirls around us. The lighting's muted, sultry, lots of reds and leather. The sort of place where I'm comfortable.Eros Khazan, another one of my best friends, leans back in his seat, studying me. The big Greek man narrows his eyes, considering. He's massive—easily the biggest guy in the place, maybe the biggest guy in the whole city—and he wears his size like a shield
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RitaThat stupid asshole kisses me.We were having fun. A little harmless flirting, nothing more.But he takes it too far and kisses me.I can't believe it. He says the exact wrong thing, and he still has the nerve to kiss me. I put both hands on his chest and shove him back as hard as I can. I'm small, he's big, but I have the element of surprise—and a little leverage from the counter behind me.He takes a couple steps back, eyes wide."You idiot," I say, shaking my head. All the playfulness is gone now. "There's only right now? Are you insane?"His jaw works. "What do you want from me, Rita? I'm moving to Boston. You're staying here. What else can I do?""I don't know," I say, frustrating finally hitting its peak. I throw up my hands in disgust."You're the one flirting with me, you know.""I'm aware of that. It's frustrating, okay? I like flirting with you. It feels good."God, I'm so beyond confused.Because I want him to kiss me. I want him to want me. I love flirting with him, I
Wickedly Twisted 51
ScarI spend a few days in Boston getting a feel for the city. I meet with all the brothers except for Gregory—no shock there—and have dinner with Orin on the last night. He seems as stressed as he was back in the office, only drunker."Don't ever forget, they're out for blood," he says on the sidewalk outside of the expensive restaurant. He grabs my shoulder, stares into my eye. "They're all out for blood, Scar."I have no clue who he means, but I can imagine it's everyone. In his business, in his position, real paranoia must be the norm, and a shiver runs down my spine trying to picture myself working for this man.I can't stop thinking about the difference between Beach Orin and Office Orin on the flight back to Dallas. I keep seeing him standing there behind the desk surrounded by all the trappings of power—huge windows overlooking the city, oil paintings on the walls, expensive wooden furniture, priceless books and artifacts on the shelves—but looking absolutely diminished.Small
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RitaI'm lonely without Scar.It's pathetic. I know it's pathetic. I drift around the apartment, killing time until I start work. He left me a credit card, said I could get myself an entire professional wardrobe, so obviously I take him up on it.Shopping only numbs my feelings for a little while.Then I'm back home with half a dozen bags filled to the brim with designer outfits, empty all over again. I pop a bottle of champagne, pour a glass, and start at the window.Somewhere, hundreds of miles away, Scar's visiting the city we were both supposed to move to. I hope he's having a good time with the Callahan boys. I hope he's keeping out of trouble.A stab of jealousy pierces through me, and I have to shove it away.This isn't me. Moping around, feeling sorry for myself. Well, okay, it's a little me, but still, I don't let myself get all soppy and sad over some guy.Scar made his choice. I made mine.So why am I still feeling this way?As I pour myself a second glass, the doorbell rin
