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Chapter Eight
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Wickedly Twisted Chapter Nine
CaraAh, crap. As soon as the money leaves my hand, I know I went too far.When I woke up, I felt like heaven. For the first time in a very long time, I felt calm and happy and relaxed, with a pleasant ache between my legs. Yes, Eros was gone, but so what? I figured he'd cut and run and I knew he had an early meeting anyway.I took a shower, gathered my things, and that was when I saw the cash.Just sitting there on the nightstand, waiting for me.No note, no comment. Nothing but money.Like I was some hooker and he was paying me off.Rage filled my chest. Rage unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Shame and disgust came next. I'd never, ever done something like that night before, and I was stupid enough to be happy about sleeping with a total stranger and doing some depraved and, frankly, really hot sex stuff with him, stuff I'd never, ever considered, not even during the heady early days with Christopher.Only to find cash on the nightstand.Like I was Eros's whore.Shame hit me so
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Ten
CaraThe shadiest car rental place in the world gets the eighth credit card to work and lets me drive off in a thirty-year-old Nissan Altima that jolts and stutters as I cruise away from Chicago.I'm thinking about Eros the whole way.I should have my future at the top of my mind—I still don't know where I'm going or if I'll sleep in a warm bed or in the back seat of this dumpy car—and my stomach's beginning to rumble. Fortunately, I stole food from the Drake's complimentary breakfast table, but that won't last forever.I still can't get Eros out of my mind.It's not just the sex. I mean, yeah, it's the sex. That was really good sex. But it's also the way he looked at me, and spoke to me, and touched my skin, and later, the way he gave me his card even though I went full-on crazy on him with all that cash and definitely ruined whatever deal he was setting up with those union guys.He should've killed me. If I blew a meeting as big and as important as he said, a lesser man would've hur
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Eleven
ErosI drink the good, strong coffee and cross my legs. The diner is quiet at mid-morning after the breakfast rush and I'm only half listening to Lycus as he goes over the day's schedule.My mind's on the girl behind the counter with her hair pulled up in a messy bun, looking lost and overwhelmed and so fucking beautiful it's like a railroad spike in my chest.Cara glances over and smiles uncertainly at me. I don't smile back, which makes her roll her eyes as she gets back to refilling salt shakers.It's been a week since I paid off that predatory rental place and that asshole tow truck driver and used my connections to make the cops go away. Since then, I got her hired here, a diner run by a client of the Khazan family, a nice older Greek man named Demetrios. He manages the place along with his wife and daughter, two of the strongest and most intense Greek women I've ever met in my life, and that's saying something. I got her an apartment in a house owned by a Greek woman named Hermi
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Twelve
ErosShe whimpers when I peel her tights off. She's in one of those typical diner waitress uniforms with a skirt and a button-down front. Demetrios keeps it old school in his establishment, and in this moment, I love him for it, because I have easy access to Cara."Is this why you keep staring at me?" she says as I kiss her thinner thigh. She digs her fingers into my hair. "You've been waiting for the chance to corner me?""If I wanted to take you, I would've taken you at my pleasure." I lick her pussy from top to bottom and lap her juices up before kissing her again, making her taste herself on my tongue. She moans as my fingers do their work, teasing her."They talk about you, you know," she says as I move back down and lick her slowly, tasting her folds and loving every second of it. I murmur in Greek again, loving her honey on my tongue."And what do they say?" I ask.She pulls my hair as my fingers slide inside of her. "They call you the lord-like you're some medieval knight or w
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Thirteen
CaraI bury my face in my hands in the alley behind the diner as Ophelia cackles with pure and unbridled delight. "I knew Eros Khazan was into you but I had no clue he was that into you," she says, and I want to melt into the street and disappear."It's not like that," I tell her even though it sounds totally hollow, because it's kind of hard to deny what she saw."Oh, it's not? So you just let random guys go down on you in the break room of my dad's diner all the time?""No!" I say and pull my knees to my chest. "Just Eros. Apparently. And only that one time.""Right, well, it sounds like he's into you." She sits down next to me, grinning her head off. "Seriously, Cara, he's been coming into the diner every day since you started and all he does is stare at you. How can you sit there and act like there's nothing happening between the two of you?""Because there's not," I say which is almost true. Things with Eros are complicated. He saved my life back at that stupid car rental place,
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Fourteen
CaraI walk up the stairs on numb, wooden legs, and Hermia flutters behind me like a moth. "Maybe we should call Mr. Khazan, yes?" She sounds frightened, and I can't blame her. "He told me to call right away if something like this happened."Christopher can be terrifying when he's in a mood, and I can't blame Hermia for being nervous. If she saw my ex ripping my place to pieces then she must be panicking."I don't want to bother Eros," I say quietly. It's like my voice emanates from deep inside my body and I'm watching it from a distance.I know rationally I should get Eros involved, but I just found out that he's a Greek gangster and I'm feeling a little strange about him at the moment.I live in a building with five other units. It's an old, converted townhouse. Hermia lives on the bottom floor and while I don't know my other neighbors, they all seem nice enough.I reach the stop of the steps and pause outside of my apartment. The door is splintered and broken, the lock a mangled ru
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Fifteen
CaraHot water rushes down my face. I stand in the shower and let it scald the horrible thoughts from my mind, the bad memories, the barely healed bruises.Christopher was here. He was here, in this apartment, ripping through my things for his own sick pleasure. I don't know how he found me, but my ex-husband has connections, the kind of connections I hoped wouldn't be of much use.But apparently, I was wrong.I should've left Chicago. I thought Eros was right—it's a big city. I could get lost here, disappear forever in this tiny little Greek neighborhood, and Christopher would never be the wiser. He'd be too busy trying to track me down back home in Philadelphia.But I'd never go back to that place. I'd never return to my parents and their dump of a South Philly row home with the rats in the basement and the leaking roof and the constant scorn and their anger. Mom hating Dad and Dad hating Mom, both of them locked in some sick duel to the death, a slow-motion murder. They despise eac
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Sixteen
CaraEros puts a cup of coffee in front of me and folds himself into the opposite chair. We're in an upscale cafe a couple blocks from the apartment while his guys clean up the mess and repair the door. I accept it wordlessly and take a long sip, letting the heat and caffeine sit in my stomach and start to wake me up."Tell me about him." Eros stares at me with that intense focus like he's raking over my skin with scalpel, peeling me apart and studying what he finds. I squirm uncomfortably, and I don't want to tell him anything, but at this point I can't keep on hiding the truth from him.Because he's more like my ex-husband than I ever dreamed."We met when I was eighteen." I close my eyes and think back to those early, heady days. Christopher was a guy from the neighborhood, a friendly guy that everyone liked. He was handsome, and he had money, and my parents were always encouraging me to go out with him. They said he'd be good for me. They said I needed a decent man in my life.We
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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
