Wyatt POV
The dinner party Sandrine put me through with her family wasn’t enough to show New York’s society that we are engaged apparently, so here I am, sitting in my car as I look at the entrance of the extravagant event Sandrine arranged. “Darling, we’re very important people, and the society needs to know we will be married soon, maybe a spring wedding?” I remember her words as we walked into the dinner event two weeks ago.
Agreeing to this has more to do with the business deal I will be making than anything else. If I want to take over her father’s business and his place as head of the Italian mob, I have to put up with this shit. I take a deep breath as I rest my forehead against the steering wheel.
A knock on the window makes me frown as I look out to find Dash and Jagger staring at me. They look so much alike, it’s absolutely stupid. They even have the same haircut. Apparently, messing up with people is their main thing. They like that no one can tell them apart except for me. I’d do the easiest thing ever.
“Are you coming? Or are we out of here?” Jagger asks, and I shake my head, opening the door and getting out of the car. Even though all I want to do is tell everyone to fuck off and go home, I have to go in there and pretend to be involved with someone I despise. I need to put up a show.
“Let’s go,” I say as I walk past my two best friends into the venue. I have to give it to Sandrine. She did a good thing here. The entire place looks like someone puked flowers all over. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I look around and people whisper as I walk past.
I shake some hands and smile politely while my friends keep their serious posture next to me. Of the three of us, Jagger is the most serious one. He is always moody, and it feels like he was born upside down. Dash is charming and the women love him. He is goofy and touchy. I am somewhat more like Jagger.
I like quiet and I like things done my way. I hate people getting in the way of my things and when someone fucks up; I lose my shit. Maybe because of the way I was raised. Failure was never allowed, and it’s not a word I use very often. Failure is not a possibility.
“Darling, I thought you were not coming,” I heard Sandrine say as I approached her and kissed her cheek very lightly. “Daddy. Look Wyatt is here,” she says as she holds my hand and pulls me through the sea of people that is surrounding her father. And there he is. Lorenzo Parisi, the man I hate almost as much as I hated my father.
“Wyatt, my boy, how good to see you. We thought you were not coming... Hummm,” he says as he wraps one arm around my shoulders and guides me away from his daughter without even glancing at her. I might not like her, but the way he treats his own daughter is disgusting. The man has no respect for women and I have seen him on more than one occasion caressing and touching other women that are not his wife.
“Two whiskeys,” he says to the barman who nods immediately, stopping the drinks he was pouring to make ours. The man really is feared, but because he is not careful, everyone knows who he is, even the police, but he has most politics and judges on his payroll.
What can I say? I have some as well, maybe the same ones he does, but I want to take him down. I want him to suffer for the last bad deals he made my grandfather sign before I came back from England.
“To us, and to this deal,” he says as he passes me my drink and I decide to provoke him a little. What is life without a minor risk?
“To Sandrine,” I say and he looks at me with his mouth open and then he shakes his head.
“No, no no, we don’t cheer to women, unless is a woman that is warming up our bed, or a woman that is on her knees,” he says as he chuckles his thick Italian accent almost disappearing making me frown.
“She will be warming up my bed,” I say, raising my glass and then taking it to my lips. The man’s face is bright red, and he makes me spill my drink down my suit when he grabs my collar, pulling me closer to him. I have to give it to him. The man has balls.
“It’s my daughter you’re talking about, boy,” he says, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist, placing my fingers in the correct position to easily remove his hand from me. I take one step closer to him, locking my eyes to his.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” I say and his eyes flash something and then he smiles and chuckles as I let go of his wrist and the surprise disappears from his face. He moves his hand up and down my chest as if trying to erase the marks he felt on my crisp shirt.
“Today is a celebration. Let’s have some fun.” He says as he walks away from me and smacks one of the waitress’s ass. She jumps in surprise and then I see the anger plastered on her face but he smiles and then places two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes as he says something. She nods slightly as she swallows hard. Then she walks past me with tears in her eyes.
The man is absolutely disgusting, and I know that no woman in her right mind would have sex with him, he has greasy hair pulled to the side covering his bald patch on the top of his head, his mustache has seen better days, and his enormous stomach flaps over his pants leaving a small gap between the buttons showing his skin.
I feel like I am going to be sick just watching him. I might not have women as a priority, but I never forced myself onto anyone and consent is a big thing. I might be a criminal, but sex crime, women, and children are not up for negotiations. I would never rape anyone or sell a woman.
I do have a couple of strip clubs, but every woman who works for me is offered the same deals as everyone who works at Hayes Enterprises. Health insurance, regular checkups, good pay, no sex allowed at work, and they know if anyone tries to touch them, the security will intervene and keep them safe. Their real names are not used, and they are encouraged to keep their real identity hidden, wearing wigs and costumes.
I might be a killer, but I am not a monster. Well, I kind of am, but not to women. My mother taught me right, how to respect women and how to treat them right, how without them there’s no more life, and how we can’t keep going as a humankind if women decide we are all monsters not worth of their time.
“That dude is trash,” Dash says and I nod in agreement as I slam my empty glass on the bar, raising my hand for a refill. I watch as Dash's eye fucks one of the waitresses and Jagger shakes his head, smacking his hand on the back of his twin brother’s head.
“Hey, what was that for?” Dash asks as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck as if in pain.
“Today is not the day to be fucking around Romeo,” he says, and Dash rolls his eyes as he turns and faces me, resting his elbow on the bar.
“Okay, so are you really marrying the princess?” He asks as he nods his head in Sandrine’s direction. She is talking to some woman. She is shorter than Sandrine, and I have no clue who she is. As I honestly have no idea who half of the people here are.
“Yeah, I have to,” I say, and Jagger takes a deep breath before he empties his tumbler, shaking his head once more. He doesn’t think I need to do this. He keeps thinking we have enough moles inside the Italian Mafia to take them down from the inside without having to marry Sandrine.
The only good thing I get from this marriage is to take over his power and then watch as I destroy everything he built. I want to ruin him, make him suffer, take all his money, and have him begging for his life while I watch him defecate himself in a cell somewhere.
“You know what I think,” he says and as he moves his eyes to his brother, I can see the annoyance in them. Dash is watching the girl talking to Sandrine.
“Who’s that?” Dash asks as he smacks my arm and I shrug. I will never be able to recognize and know the names of all the girls Sandrine surrounds herself with. Besides, I don’t really care to know who they are. I know everyone surrounding her has been checked and approved by her father, so why would I do the same? The man is paranoid. But his paranoia is not reaching me.
I know he went looking into my life and he only found what I allowed him to do. Everything I feed the press and everyone in the elite society I move into. He thinks I am just a self-made billionaire with a superiority complex who is so greedy that he doesn’t care about the risks he’s taking.
"She's hot," Dash says and I roll my eyes as I raise my glass from the bar, and when I look at the girl I almost choke on my drink.
"What the fuck," I let out and both Dash and Jagger look at me as I slam my glass back on the bar straightening my back and looking at them waiting for an answer, but they both look at me as if I am the crazy one.
"What the fuck is SHE doing here?" I ask and they look at each other doing their fucking twin thing and then look at me. Jagger frowns as he looks at her and then his mouth opens and closes almost straight away. Yeah, that's what I thought. they have no clue how she got here and why she is here. Fuck. this is the closest she has managed to get near me, and I don't like it.
Blake POV“Blake, I have your first assignment,” my boss says and I smile as I stand from my cubicle after putting down the phone that connects my little office space to hers. Tara is my new editor. As soon as I got to New York, I made sure to find a job. Obviously, I didn’t look for something that would take a lot of my time, but something that would get me some money and would leave me some time to investigate The Reaper.I found this job as a part-time writer for a wedding magazine, apparently is a very prestigious magazine and everything that I have done before helped me nail this. Obviously, I know nothing about weddings and I will have to do a lot of research and ask idiotic questions to the bride and groom, but hey, to live is to learn.Since when I have become such a cliche? I shake my head as I stand up, grabbing my little notepad and pen before I walk to Tara’s office. I am an old school. I like to write things with my hand first, and like this, no one can hack into my thing
Blake POVI look in the mirror and I barely recognize myself. The sage green dress hugs all of my curves all while the shapewear I am wearing softens all the bumps and curves. I have never felt so sexy in my life. The slit of the dress is on my left leg and it goes all the way up to the middle of my thigh.The makeup is dark with some pops of green while the red lipstick covers my lips. I smile as I turn around and look over my shoulder. The shoes I am wearing are so high I am afraid I am about to fall on my face, but I love what I see in the mirror.“I know the dress is a little small, but I wasn’t made aware we were going to have someone to fit today and most of the girls I need to fit are a size two or four,” she says, and I nod. Way to make me feel shit about myself. But unfortunately for her, I really don’t care. I look hot.I hear a whistle behind me and when I turn around to see who the author is; I smile as Trent walks to m
Wyatt POVI watch as Blake walks away from us, and I immediately pull my hands from Sandrine. This type of public display of affection is not my thing. I don’t need to pretend to enjoy her touch anymore. I know that this is a show for everyone, but I prefer to keep my distance from touching her. Sandrine furrows her brows as she follows my gaze and then crosses her arms in front of her voluptuous chest.“Enjoying watching her? Aren’t you ashamed?” She says and I raise one eyebrow as I look at her and immediately her eyes soften as she takes a deep breath. “You could at least hide the drool on the corner of your mouth,” she says, and I can’t help but smirk at her remark.“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Sandrine, and what were you thinking? Talking about our personal lives?” I say as I shove both my hands into my pants pockets and Sandrine looks down at her hands and then at me as she shrugs.“I have to kill people’s idea that I am pregnant as if I would ever allow that to happen. T
Blake POVWalking away from Wyatt Hayes turned out to be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, and I have done some incredibly hard things in my life. The way his two colored eyes watched me, as if he was drinking me in, as if he was committing me to memory, watching my every move to make sure he wouldn’t forget anything.As I find Trent in the middle of the room, he smiles, passing me a glass of champagne that I gladly take and empty without thinking twice. “Wow, take it easy Pierce,” he says and I nod as I hold the glass between my trembling fingers.“Are you okay?” He asks as he faces me, his fingers brushing my skin as he moves a strand of hair that fell in front of my eyes. I nod, biting my lips as I remember the heat coming from Wyatt’s body. I swear I smell like him now. His jacket smelled so much like him, I bet I smell the same now.I wish I could just sniff my arms, but it would be embarrassing and I
Blake POV“Do you need help, Love?” I hear someone say and then I realize the cab driver is leaning in the window next to me. I shake my head, pushing Wyatt away from me, but he doesn’t move, not even an inch. His eyes are murderous.I hear a whistle, and I look over his shoulder to see Dash and his twin brother. They stand the same way, both with their hands in their pockets. The only difference between them is that Dash is smiling and his brother Jagger looks serious. The way he is looking at me makes my stomach turn.“Let me go, Wyatt, go back inside, I bet there are some people wanting to talk to you, or your fiancé, she might be looking for you,” I say and when his eyes move from my eyes to my lips and then back up I realize he is touching me. His hand possessively resting on my waist, keeping me in place.I look down at his hand and I have to say I feel bothered by his touch. The heat that comes from his touch me
Wyatt POVIt’s been exactly five days since the engagement party and Sandrine has been clingier than ever. I guess that the display of affection I pulled on her made her think things changed and I wanted something to do with her. I pinch the bridge of my nose as the seventh message of the day flashes on the screen of my phone.“Her again?” Jagger asks and I nod as I turn my phone off and shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. I am tired of her shit and if I didn’t have so much to lose, I would honestly tell her to fuck right off. I hate the way she talks to me, and the way she thinks she can have any say in my life.“Wouldn’t want to be you,” Dash says as he looks at me over his shoulder while Jagger drives and he sits on the passenger seat next to his twin. I am in the back of the SUV with my laptop while we try to connect to the sound system of the car in front of us.“They will be realizing we are fol
Blake POVI open my eyes, sitting up on the bed, frowning and looking around. I move my hand through my hair, pulling it away from my face while my heart beats fast. My forehead is so wet with sweat that my hair gets stuck. I had a really weird dream and then I felt like I was being watched. That feeling hasn’t disappeared.It was the most real dream I have ever had in my life. It was like I could even smell his cologne. My skin felt warm, as if he was touching me and my pussy drenched because he was touching, licking and doing all sorts of sinful things to me. Things I wish I could feel for real.I realize it’s been far too long since the last time I had sex and I need to get it sorted. I know I am not the one-night stands kind of girl, but I really need to sort out this need for sex.I sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing the robe I have resting on the end of the bed, throwing it over my shoulders and passing my arms through the fabric, tyin
Blake POV “Miss Pierce,” he says, placing his hand on the elevator doors, stopping them to close once more. I have been standing looking at him, as if it is the first time I am actually seeing him. He is wearing a dark gray three-piece suit and a silver tie with a white shirt. I can’t help but stare the way the suit makes him look even better. He raises an eyebrow and when I come back to reality, a small smile appears on his lips as if he can read my mind. “Shall we?” He says as I nod and take a step out of the elevator. His body is so big that I have to brush my body against him to pass as he keeps his hand in the same place, stopping the elevator door from closing. I can feel the head irradiating from his body as I brush past him and I swear I heard him groan, or not. Wyatt rests one hand on my lower back while we walk silently down the corridor, and I swear my mind has gone foggy. What’s with these men and their need to be constantly touching people? “Thro