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Wickedly Twisted 33
Rita"Dinner was good," I say, climbing into bed. I pull the sheets over me as Scar stands nearby in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, looking like he's on set for an underwear modeling job."You get along well with Molly," he says, watching me, eyes roaming over to the empty side of the bed. "Did you really mean what you asked about kids?""Absolutely," I say, feeling sleepy and barely resisting it. Lying out in the sun all afternoon took a lot out of me. "I think I got a sunburn on my arm."He moves closer, still looking at me. His face is tense, almost anxious, but I don't know why. "Orin said something to me while we were outside. He wants me to move to Boston."I roll over to frown at him. "Really? That's a lot to ask.""He's not a normal client. Anyone else and I'd tell them to fuck off. But Orin Callahan?" He shakes his head, clearly torn. "This is my chance, Rita."I sit up on an elbow. I like the way his eyes drift down my arm, to my shoulder, to my chest, back up to my lip
Wickedly Twisted 34
RitaI stretch out in the sun, my skin doused in sunscreen. Orin's in the ocean, swimming with Molly. The pair of them are laughing as they bob and duck waves, splashing each other like children. I find it hard to imagine they're actually hardened gangsters like Scar claims.There's something so innocent about their relationship. Even when Molly's teasing him and Orin's acting all grumpy, they clearly love each other. They've been married for so long, but they're still happy. Can people really keep love going like that?I always imagined my parents started swinging out of desperation. They're unhappy in their marriage, but unwilling to end it. I can't picture getting divorced after being with someone for twenty, thirty, forty years. The idea of waking up one day far from now, far in the future, miserable, ready to walk away from the only world I've ever known, it scares the hell out of me. How can I know I'll still be in love at sixty?But it's possible. Molly and Orin are doing it, o
Wickedly Twisted 35
ScarI finish packing the bags. Rita's up in the living room with Molly, finishing off another bottle of champagne. She can sleep on the flight back to Dallas.I'm already thinking logistics. Contracts. Apartments. A new move, a new life. Taking on the Callahan family is like beginning over again. I'll have to let some clients go—the Callahan network sprawls too wide and too deep. They'll keep me too busy for some of my smaller jobs. I told Orin I wouldn't give him special treatment, but we both know that's bullshit.Joining the family means loyalty to death.Except what will that mean for Rita? I worry about her as I finish getting our things together. When we inevitably stage our breakup and get our divorce, will Orin let her walk away? Will Molly try to patch things over? Will Rita feel like she's losing something all over again? I don't want to drag her through that, not if I can help it, but we both know the deal.Only I'm not sure why it's worth chasing anymore.I leave the room
Wickedly Twisted 36
RitaComing back to Dallas feels like returning to the real world.If the real world is also a total mess.Scar heads back to work. We don't talk about Gregory Callahan. We barely mention the move to Boston. It's like what happened at the beach didn't follow us home, and now the tension between us grows worse every day.I hate it. I don't understand this backslide. I want to go back to that Sunday morning, lying out on the beach with Scar, watching Orin and Molly playing in the water. I want to feel that sun. Feel his eyes on my body. I want to think about his taste in my mouth.Most of all, I want to feel good like that, something that's been missing from my life for a long time.Instead, he throws himself into his job like he always does while I lounge around his apartment. I don't bother pretending like I'm still his assistant. That was never going to work out—especially not now that Gregory's sniffing around us. It wouldn't make any sense, not if Scar and I were really married.Wh
Wickedly Twisted 37
RitaI'm not a great cook so I order from his favorite take-out place, this barbecue restaurant a couple blocks away. I have everything set up when he gets home, looking exhausted from a long day at the office. I want to do something nice for him—the way he did something nice for me.A small surprise to ease some of his tension. Maybe even to bring a smile to his face.The more I'm around him, the more I think he needs this sort of surprise in his life. He has his friends, his work, but he spends so much time doing things for other people.He deserves to have something done for him for a change."Here's to a long day," Scar says, pouring two glasses of wine and toasting me."Here's to very thoughtful gifts."He sits down with a sigh, takes off his tie, rolls his sleeves up to show off his lovely forearms, and starts to eat. I watch him for a moment, picking at my plate, my guts a nervous roil, but Cait's right. If someone's going to make the first move, it might as well be me.And any
Wickedly Twisted 38
RitaI can't sleep. I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. Scar's room is across the hall from mine. I can picture him doing the same thing, in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. I glance at the clock—it's barely past eleven.There's a sound in the hall. A creak, a door opening. My heart races as I sit up on an elbow. The apartment's usually so quiet, except I hear footsteps coming toward my room. I'm about to call out when there's a soft knock."Rita?" Scar's whisper. "Are you awake?" The knob turns, the door opens.He's standing there. White t-shirt, black boxer-briefs. Staring in at me with that look like he wants to hold me down and feast on me.I sit up, hair spilling down my shoulders."Couldn't sleep," I say stupidly."Neither could I." He takes a step forward but hesitates. "You know we shouldn't.""I know," I say quietly. "But we can anyway.""I want to so fucking bad it's killing me.""I want it too.""Every night I lie in my room, thinking about you." He comes closer. "Abou
Wickedly Twisted 39
ScarI dream of Rita that night. When I wake, I'm still in her bed. We smell like sex. I kiss her neck, cup her naked breasts. She wiggles her hips against me until I'm hard again. She's sleepy and beautiful as I kiss her. We fuck like that, half awake. I make sure to grind against her with my piercing, driving her wild. It gives me satisfaction, making her come like this, more joy than I ever thought possible. When she gets off twice, she pushes me back, panting and sweating, and she finishes me with her mouth. Slow and sensual, eyes locked on mine. Swallows every drop.While she showers, I make breakfast. Pancakes and coffee. She accepts a plate when she comes out, drying her hair. "That was unexpected," she says."What, the morning sex?""No, the pancakes." She stares at the plate. "I genuinely didn't think you knew how to work the stove."I roll my eyes. "I wasn't always rich, remember? I lived on pancakes for years. They gave me a scholarship at Blackwoods, but not a stipend. Mos
Wickedly Twisted 40
ScarI lean back on the bench across from the climbing wall. The gym's quiet on a Friday afternoon. Rita claps her chalky hands together before getting into position and beginning her line up toward the top, her harness on, the safety rope connected to the overhead anchor with an auto belay device.God, she's gorgeous. Her back is lean and toned, her muscular ass, legs, and arms working as she pulls her way up a difficult wall.I can't help but stare at her and feel a sense of pride as she gets higher and higher.She's really good—there's no denying it—and really fucking hot. I smile to myself, glad I decided to take a mid afternoon break to watch her get some time in at the gym.She wanted me out there climbing too—but fuck that. This is her thing. I'll sit right here, sip my coffee, and enjoy her.My phone rings. I glance down, worried it'll be Ford—I haven't spoken to him yet and I'm dreading it—but instead, it's Janine, the recruiter. "Hello," I answer. "How are you?""Hey, Scar,"
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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
Wickedly Twisted 57
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
Wickedly Twisted 55
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
Wickedly Twisted 53
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
Wickedly Twisted 52
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
Wickedly Twisted 50
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
