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Wickedly Twisted 62
CaraI wake up feeling refreshed and happy. There's a pleasant glow that hangs around for a while after a night of really good sex—and last night was really good. I'm guessing my post-orgasm floaty-feeling is going to last all day, and if I'm lucky, Eros might keep that going into tomorrow.Except he's not in bed with me. I touch his pillow—it's cold. Which means he must've left a while ago. That man works too damn much.I close my eyes, smiling slightly, unwilling to let this little wrinkle ruin my solid vibes.Last night was absolutely fantastic. He wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to treat me like this wife. That beast was absolutely insatiable in a way he hadn't been before. It was like one taste and he needed to devour me, toes to teeth. Orgasm after orgasm for both of us, and when I thought he was through, his cock somehow got hard again and he was fucking me into sweet oblivion.I yawn and stretch. Some men are freaks of nature. Eros might be a sex freak of nature. It shou
Wickedly Twisted 63
ErosI hear the scream as I come up the steps, a bag of breakfast sandwiches in one hand and a carrier with two coffees in the other. I'm humming to myself, floating on a cloud. I figured I'd treat Cara to breakfast from my favorite local spot not too far away and wanted to take the drive myself to clear my head.Last night's debauchery still lingers like a comforting blanket.But that scream has my body pounding with adrenaline.I know that sound. I know that tone. It's a scream of pure, utter horror, of an animal trapped in a life-or-death struggle.And it's coming from my room.I drop the coffee and sandwiches as I sprint down the hall. My heart's racing, my brain working. I released Alonzo early this morning, told the kid to get some rest—which means Cara is alone.Nobody else would go near my wing of the house, not this early in the morning.She's alone, all alone, with no weapons, no protection, nothing.Fuck, I shouldn't have left her, but I thought my enemies were busy fightin
Wickedly Twisted 64
ErosI stand behind my desk in the office of the Lord of the Khazan Family. To my left, Cara leans against the bookshelf, looking exhausted. Her eyes are bloodshot from the struggle of staying alive and there's an ugly yellow bruise forming on her cheek. Dr. Kalivas says she'll be okay—she doesn't seem to have any permanent damage, which was a relief beyond measure.To my right is my mother. She's in all black like always, her face cold and passive, showing no emotion. She stares straight ahead, unwilling to look at me.That's okay. I can't blame her. This won't be easy for my mother. She's lost so much already, but now there's more to lose.Straight ahead, Anissa and Sophia kneel on the floor, their hands tied behind their backs. Sophia doesn't look great—apparently, she tried to fight when Lycus caught her, screaming obscenities, halfway to the dock and the jet skis, and the guards might've gone a little overboard when they captured her. Aunt Anissa came peacefully though, and her h
Wickedly Twisted 65
ErosI sit alone in the steam room, no towel around my waist, my arms on the bench behind me, my head leaning back against the wall. My eyes are closed, and the heavy, damp air sits on my skin, pulling sweat from my pores.I'm exhausted. I'm more tired than I've been in a long, long time. The steam room helps relax me after an extremely trying day, but even this isn't bringing me back.It's like everything in my life is conspiring to break me, and if I don't find some hidden reserves of energy, I fear it'll work.But I'm so close. Bosco is dead along with his underboss, and word is the Pavone Famiglia quickly fell into chaos and infighting, just like I wanted. They're squabbling with each other over who will take command of the remains of their fractured organization, and I'm hoping that by the time a strong leader takes control, they'll be so diminished that I can either destroy them outright or demand absurd concessions in exchange for peace.Killing them with the Yakuzas' help will
Wickedly Twisted 66
CaraIt feels strange being back at the diner. Even weirder since I'm not in uniform."Please, can I get you anything else, Mrs. Khazan?" Demetrios asks me, wringing his hands together."You have to stop calling me that," I say with a big smile. "I'm still just Cara.""Yes, of course, Mrs. Khazan—I mean, Cara." He returns my warm smile. "It's good to see you again.""It's good to see you too."He pats my hand and walks off to help his wife in the back.I drink coffee alone at the counter. Greek soldiers come and go, the place packed with them. Alonzo lurks nearby, laughing with some of the boys. He gets along with everyone so well—it surprises me that he got twisted up into the crew that tried to betray Eros. But so far, Alonzo has done nothing but show loyalty and respect. It helps that I like him."You look different." Phel leans against the counter in front of me. "Something about you changed.""I don't know what you mean," I say innocently."Hm. You're wearing the wedding ring. Th
Wickedly Twisted 67
CaraI poke my head into the kitchen to say bye to Demetrios before taking the back way into the alley. Once I'm outside, I stare at the ground, trying to work out what I just learned.Eros didn't tell me about killing Don Pavone, but I don't want to jump to any conclusions. I can see how that might've slipped his mind, what with his cousin nearly smothering me with a pillow. He came home that night looking like something big happened, looking more relaxed than he had in a while, and we spent all evening having sex. And in the morning, Sophia tried to kill me, then that whole trial-banishment-whatever thing happened, then more sex in the steam room, and more sex all night—I can understand how he never got around to telling me.But what does this mean?Is the war totally over?Am I safe?My head's in a million places, and I don't notice the person watching me until he speaks up."Cara. Hey. Don't freak out."I look up sharply and take a step back.Christopher's standing near the end o
Wickedly Twisted 68
ErosTwo men sit across from me in my office. Ciro Nasato and Lucca Verga both wear crisp, decent black suits, their hair slicked back, rings on their fingers, watches gleaming as if recently cleaned. Ciro's the older of the two, heavier than Lucca, with dark bags under his eyes. Lucca's in his early twenties, athletic and muscular, a good-looking young man, but an ugly red wound that'll turn into a nasty scar through his cheek and ear tells me a lot about what these men have gone through in the last few weeks."How can I trust that you two speak for the Pavone Famiglia?" I ask, head tilted to the side. I spin a glass of whiskey on a coaster on my desk. I don't want to admit that I'm enjoying this, but watching two powerful Italian mobsters bow and scrape and beg does bring me some pleasure."There's nobody left to disagree, Lord Khazan," Ciro says, bowing his head respectfully. "It's only me and Lucca now.""Which of you do I call Don?" I ask, trying not to smile."Ciro is my underbo
Wickedly Twisted 69
CaraI stand on the balcony outside of our bedroom and look out at the lake.Light glitters on the waves. The sun's sinking in the sky, leaving it all pinks and purples. It's funny how I've gotten so used to this place already. I'm in cashmere and silk and a pair of fuzzy slippers against the coming fall chill. I've never owned clothes like this before in my life, but Eros keeps insisting that I dress like his wife.Even though our agreement is at an end.It's strange how when I first got here, the idea of dressing in fancy outfits repulsed me. Now though, I'm beginning to love all the different styles and options I have.We haven't discussed what to do now that Christopher is gone and the war is over. I don't need to stay here anymore—nobody will chase me down if I leave the city. Our agreement is complete and our deal is at an end.But every time I work up the courage to say something, the words don't leave my lips, and he hasn't broached the subject.We keep living like this. In li
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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
