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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
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Seventeen
ErosI park in front of a decent townhouse in the Pilsen neighborhood directly south of Little Italy and University Park. It's a vibrant place filled with murals, restaurants, cafes, and Italians. Lots and lots of Italians.The Pavone Famiglia always had a presence in Chicago. Their roots went back generations, and they held on to the relatively small Little Italy for years and years. Mostly, their home base was Philadelphia, but they ran some rackets and made some books among their own people for the most part, and we ignored them for a long while. They didn't give us much trouble—we controlled better turf and outnumbered them ten-to-one—until the last few years. More and more of their members began moving out from the East Coast and putting down roots in Chicago, swelling their numbers, and pushing their borders in all directions.The block is nice, shady, and quiet. It doesn't look like the kind of place a mobster would make a home.But looks don't mean a goddamn thing in this busi
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Eighteen
ErosCara screams as Conti hits the floor with a grunt.My gun's in my hand before I can think about it. I hold it aimed at his face, my finger on the trigger, and one wrong move will end this wretched bastard's life.I want to do it. I can already feel the pleasure of watching this abusive shit-stain's blood spread across his hardwood floor. I came here in good faith and tried to do this without violence, but this man doesn't seem interested in saving his own life."Eros," Cara says and her hand is on my arm. "Eros, please. There are people around."I blink rapidly, blood rushing through my ears, and come back to myself. Rage threatens to push me into something I'll regret. Slowly, I lower the weapon as Conti scuttles backwards and climbs to his feet, bleeding from a split lip.Pedestrians walk past, some staring curiously. An old lady with a little white dog, a young couple in jeans and denim jackets, a couple of guys that look like they're on the way to the gym.Nobody's staring, n
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Nineteen
ErosThere's only one safe place I can think of in the entire city."Where are we going?" she asks as I roll through Hyde Park, turn off a quiet side street, and down a shady avenue. No Trespassing - Private Property signs are plastered all over along with more cameras than Buckingham Palace.Somewhere not too far, a small army of well-paid, loyal, and heavily armed men watch every inch of the property for anything out of the ordinary."This is where I live." I reach a gate and it opens before I can even roll down the window. The guard nods to me respectfully as I drive along a tree-lined, shady driveway until we come into view of the Khazan family home.Cara sucks in a breath. I try not to smile to myself, but even after all this time, a swell of pride fills my chest. This is the heart of my family's power, the nexus around which the city turns, and it's all mine.It's a beautiful Tudor building with tall peaks and a stone facade. Trees surround the property, the grass perfect manicu
Wickedly Twisted Chapter Twenty
CaraI'm almost too angry to notice the lavish interior.But not quite.The entryway has an enormous crystal chandelier dangling over a twin staircase with massive marble statues of Greek gods and goddesses frolicking around a central fountain. Actual fish swim inside the water, which seems almost absurd. The floor's marble, with more marble columns, and a ton of intricate tile work along the ground and walls. Doorways and hallways lead off into different parts of the house, but Eros heads right for the stairs and takes me to the second floor.We walk past a couple maids dusting and straightening. Each one smiles and greets Eros by bowing their heads respectfully, and he grunts a hello in reply. None of them flinch away or avert their eyes, and they both stare at me curiously. I take that as a good sign—at least his staff isn't terrified of him, even if they act a little overly formal.The whole place is like a museum. I've never seen so much luxury in one building before. I grew up i
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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
