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Wickedly Twisted 9
RitaI lounge back on the bed paid for by Scar, wondering if I just passed up my only chance at salvaging my life.He wants to marry me. For real, an actual marriage.Fake, but also not fake.The idea sends a shiver down my spine.The only thing I know about a marriage is my parents, and from my perspective, that looks awful. I could maybe play pretend—smile, kiss him, hang on his arm at parties—but an actual marriage?I can't do it. Even at my lowest, I can't.I'm miserable. Stupid and miserable. And a little drunk. I probably shouldn't have had three glasses of wine. As I wallow in my misery, my phone rings. Cait's face pops up on the screen, looking radiant and angelic. "Hi, girl!" she says. In the background, trees bend and blow in a slight breeze. I swear I hear mandolin music plucking nearby like a bluegrass band follows her around serenading her beauty. God, I love this girl, but I am in a sour mood."Hey, girl," I say, trying to smile, suddenly mortified of my homeless status
Wickedly Twisted 10
Rita"I know it's been tough lately," Cait says softly, her face filling the frame. "Why don't you come out here? Use some vacation time. Or maybe just visit for a weekend? I can fly you out—""Please don't offer to pay for things," I say, squeezing my eyes shut. "I love you to pieces, I just can't.""Okay, that's okay, I totally understand." She hesitates a second. "Why don't I come out there?""You're pregnant. You have a kid. There are a million reasons why not."Cait lets out a long sigh. "I miss you," she says, whispering now. "I miss the way things used to be. I know I seem like things are great, but seriously, Rita, sometimes I want to rip my own fucking hair out. Do you know where the closest mall is?"I shake my head. "No clue.""Three hours away. Our closest neighbor is fifteen minutes. There's a town, but god, it's like literally three buildings and maybe ten horses. I love this place. It's absolutely beautiful. But I'm so fucking bored."I shouldn't smile, but I can't help
Wickedly Twisted 11
RitaGregory Callahan.The one that pulled the gun on me for the crime of interrupting a meeting.I'll never forget that cold, dead stare. He brushes past me before I can say yes or no. I stand there in shock, not sure what to do, fear ringing down my spine. My mother's forgotten, Cait's forgotten. All I can think of is the offer Scar made me, and suddenly I wish I had accepted."What can I do for you, uh, Mr. Callahan?" I squeak, feeling very small."Gregory," he says, pausing in the little sitting room attached to the bedroom. "I had such a nice meeting with your husband that I thought I'd fly down here and give him the good news myself. We're thinking about hiring him on as our full-time attorney.""That's... fantastic." I let the door shut. Although I want to keep it open. That way, someone might hear me scream while Gregory murders me. I plaster a smile on my face and clasp my hands in front of my lap. "He's very good at his job, isn't he?""So they say." Gregory tilts his head,
Wickedly Twisted 12
ScarRita shows up at my office bright and early wearing the same pantsuit she had on in Boston, looking like she hasn't showered in over a day, her eyes red and bleary, her hair up in a messy bun.She stares at me, standing there in the doorway like she wants to walk over and strangle me.All I can think about is that kiss.That one, stupid kiss. I did it for a reason: to sell the story. That's what I'm always doing, selling the story. To a jury, to a client, to friends and family. Always selling the story.But that kiss was obscene. It was lurid, lovely. Her mouth was a feast. Soft, plump lips. Tongue like heaven, silky and smooth. Even her taste was unreal, spicy and delightful. I held that kiss for way too long because I didn't want to let it go, not after feeling something so good for the first time in a long time."I didn't expect you to show up," I say.She shrugs. "I didn't expect to show up either, but I had a visitor last night."My eyes narrow. "Visitor? Who?""Gregory Call
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Scar"I already took the first steps the second I left the meeting with the Callahans. If Gregory decides to dig, he'll find the proper documentation."Her jaw drops. "Wait. Hold on. Back up. The proper what now?""Documentation." I stare at her straight-faced. I had hoped I wouldn't need to tell her this part. I'd quietly dissolve the whole thing before she ever noticed. Just a blip in the system. "I know a judge in Las Vegas, a friend of mine, and he was willing to file the marriage certificate plus backdate it to a couple months ago. He forged both our signatures. Good guy."She jumps to her feet. "You did fucking what? Scar!""What did you expect? You don't have to play along, but we need proof that we're married. Do you have any idea what the Callahan family is?""You can't just—you can't just—force me into marriage. This is, like, beyond insane."I come around the desk, staring at her. "Listen to me, Rita. The Callahan family is powerful. They bribe politicians. They buy local e
Wickedly Twisted 14
RitaThe motel complex where the fire victims are staying isn't far from the burned husk of the apartment building. I can still smell charred wood and melted plastic in the air as I stroll toward the courtyard.I called Eduardo an hour ago. He said he'd meet me here—he had business with some of his former tenants already. I wanted to get it over with right away, but I figured this was something better done in person, so I agreed. But now that I'm here, I wish I hadn't come at all.It reminds me too much of what I lost. And what all these people lost too.Kids run around on a pathetically small grassy patch. A few adults watch them. Dejected and tired-looking people. My kind of folks. I smile and wave to an older woman I recognize from the building. She waves back. Her kids fall to the ground, a girl and a boy, wrestling in the dirt. She doesn't bother telling them to stop. The slump of her shoulders, the faraway stare, these people are in shock, still mourning the loss of all their be
Wickedly Twisted 15
ScarI try to do some work. I force myself to concentrate for an hour, but every time I find myself getting into a groove, she pops back into my head.Rita. My assistant.I didn't think much of her when the recruiter, a woman named Janine I met in college, brought her to me. "She's smart and really needs a gig, but she's young. Will that be an issue?"I didn't think so at the time. The interviews went well, Rita was poised and intelligent, and I really needed a new assistant. I couldn't keep scaring them away by being too demanding.So, I hired her. I took it easy in those first few weeks. I didn't push too hard, just to make sure she didn't panic.Look where that got me.Fucked, no two ways about it.I knew she was trouble the second she waltzed into my office looking like heaven in heels. I can't deny I find the girl attractive—she has the kind of body she clearly works on—but I try to make it a point not to get entangled at work. My job is my life, and I prefer to keep everything n
Wickedly Twisted 16
Rita"Welcome home," he says as he ushers me into his apartment.It's at the top of an expensive, fancy building in downtown Dallas. I didn't think people actually lived in places like this, but apparently, I was wrong.Scar's space is obscenely nice. Grays, whites, blacks, muted colors. Leather couch, enormous windows, modern kitchen with gleaming appliances and one of those obscene hidden refrigerators that cost like fifty grand. "Not very..." I trail off, tapping my lower lip. "Not very personal.""Personal?" He cocks his head. "You're right. I travel half the year.""I know, but still." I poke my head into the enormous master bedroom. "No pictures. Barely anything on the walls. It looks like you hired someone to make it look good and just—stopped there.""Because that's exactly what I did." He steers me toward the home gym. It's suitably decked out with weight machines and a couple treadmills. Plus a little steam room toward the back."Okay, I'll admit it, I like this," I say, run
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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
Wickedly Twisted 56
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
