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Wickedly Twisted 37
ErosI pace across the basement beneath a recording studio we own on the south side of the city, snarling like a tiger.Hector Constantinou hangs by his wrists from a reinforced steel pipe, blood dripping from his beaten and mangled face, his shirtless torso turning purple from the bruises blotting his flesh.My muscles ache. My fists burn from where the flesh was scraped off, smashing Hector's ugly face over and over. I've been working him for the last hour, ignoring his pleas to stop, ignoring everything but his pain.Hate flows from me like a flood, and I don't know how to stop it.I don't know if I want to.I tilt Hector's chin up and make him look me in the eye. He's a big guy, older, in his early forties. The kind of Khazan family lifer that would've been happy sitting around a diner eating gyros until he died of a heart attack at fifty. Except he ended up here instead."Who ordered it?" I ask him, enunciating each word nice and slow."Zale," he whispers. "Zale set it up." He co
Wickedly Twisted 38
CaraI stand in my closet, stomach a churning mess, looking at all the dresses hanging on the racks. I move through them, one at a time.None of them are me. They're all expensive, designer, the sort of thing that would cost more money than I've ever had in my life. They're all my size and fit like a dream, but none of them are mine.I close my eyes and try not to think about that big thug Hector pulling me from the alley. I try not to think about Christopher staring at me from the car with that smile on his face.Like he was going to own me again and couldn't wait to drag me through hell."Wear white."I start and turn around. Eros's standing in the doorway, looking at me. He's in a black suit with a dark tie, his hair combed back, looking more put-together than he has in a while."I thought we were keeping it casual?" I ask, my voice shaking slightly. Nerves jangle down into my fingertips. I'm more nervous than I realized."You're the bride. Wear white." He walks to me and brushes a
Wickedly Twisted 39
Cara"To marriage." Eros raises his glass and I raise mine."To the Khazan family," I say with a smile.He seems conflicted about that toast but nods and drinks. I sip my wine, eyeing him cautiously. Lycus, Helen, and Gareth left ten minutes ago, and now I'm alone in our room with Eros. He's sitting close, our thighs touching, the fireplace crackling with a low flame. I can feel the tension in his body."Can I ask you something?" I glance at him, feeling nervous.He nods. "It's our wedding night. You can ask me anything.""Why did you mother say she didn't think you'd ever get married?"His smile is soft. "She worries too much, but in this case, I can't blame her. I was never interested in marriage until I met you.""Are you worried our arrangement will—you know, hurt your mother?"He nods slowly. "I've thought about that. Although my mother puts on the facade of a grieving widow, she's a Khazan to her core. She understands these things can be necessary. Besides, even if our marriage
Wickedly Twisted 40
CaraI wake up to the smell of coffee and pancakes."Good morning, asteraki mu." Eros's sitting up in bed, shirtless, with a tray of food in his lap. "I was debating whether I'd let you sleep in or not."I blink, groggy, and shuffle closer. "Is this breakfast in bed?""Since I cannot provide you with a proper honeymoon, I hoped this would help ease the disappointment.""It's a start." I accept the coffee then take a sip. "I could get used to this, you know."He laughs lowly and leans down to kiss me gently. I kiss him back, surprised by the gesture. It's not like the kiss last night—that was passion, pure sex and desire.This is a small kiss, an intimate kiss. The kind of kiss I'd share with a real partner.With a real husband.He seems to realize what he just did and pulls back slightly. There's a moment of quiet as he shifts the tray and places it in my lap. "There you go," he says as he climbs out of bed. "Eat, enjoy. I have work.""Where are you going?" I watch him walk to the sho
Wickedly Twisted 41
CaraThe grounds surrounding the Khazan mansion are like a pristine, manicured forest. Gravel paths snake through patches of flowers, shaped bushes, benches near bubbling fountains, at least one pool set beside a series of hot tubs, and a dock on the lake with several boats tied off.I find a chair near the water. The smell of kelp and algal bloom blows in with the breeze and I let it comb through my hair. I stare at my finger, now ringless, and I feel strangely naked without it.I want to wear my ring. I love my engagement ring, and the wedding ring means something to me even if it's a symbol of a fake relationship.It pisses me off to no end that he refuses to put his on, even if only to satisfy me."I thought you'd be jetting off somewhere warm and exciting by now," a woman's voice says nearby. I jump slightly and look back to see Helen coming toward me. She's smiling, her hair pulled back in a chic bun, wearing white pants I could never pull off in a million years and a lightweigh
Wickedly Twisted 42
ErosThree men kneel before me.All of them have their hand bound behind their backs. Each is bleeding from multiple wounds. Broken noses, cracked skulls. Lycus has a gun pressed to the first man's head, a tall Greek gentleman in his late fifties, getting heavy with age and wrinkled from a hard life."You all know why you are here." I pace in front of them, watching their reactions. Above us, the recording studio is quiet. Nobody would dare work while beneath them, men died."Yes, Eros. I know why we are here." Zale speaks for the others. The old captain dares raise his chin to look me in the eye.Lycus brings his gun down hard, smacking him in the skull. Zale grunts and hunches forward, groaning.I watch the pathetic display and feel nothing but pity."Why did you do it?" I ask him.He's quiet for a moment. The old Greek man is in considerable pain, and he knows he's about to die, but there's still a dignity to him. I respect that—better to die like a man than to face the end like a
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ErosI suck at the last of the whiskey. Exhaustion weighs me down as the sun rises outside of my office window. Birds sing in a nearby tree. I keep hearing the gunshots, the many gunshots from the night before as I went through my family and purged all of the traitors.So many dead. So many wasted lives.It would be easy to blame Cara, but she was only the catalyst, and a weak catalyst at that. This unrest had been simmering for some time now, and she was simply the most convenient excuse.I'll have to find a new captain to take over for Zale. I suspect Alonzo will be a good choice—I spared his life, and he's intensely aware that he owes me his continued existence. I need strong men, loyal men, in positions of power.I smell like alcohol and blood. I need to shower for an eternity to wash away the sins I've committed, but there's no cleansing me.There's a knock at the door. "Come," I say wearily.It opens a crack and Cara steps inside. She's wearing her work outfit, the diner's unifo
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CaraDespite his promise to come up with a compromise, three days pass before I finally lose my patience.I try to be a good wife and partner. I want to make this work, even if we're faking it. I have lunch with Helen, walk the grounds with his mother, straighten up the room despite him pleading with me to let the staff do it, and I do it all with a smile.I wear my sneakers and don't complain when he slips into bed late at night, not saying a word.I avoid Sophia and Anissa as best I can though I catch their dirty glares when I pass them in the halls, which is mercifully rare.But enough is enough.I can only take so much.My world is like an afterlife. Not a prison—but a hell. I'm trapped here, stuck drifting from one place to another, like purgatory. Not quite stuck, not quite able to escape.I wake up early, shower while he's still asleep, get myself ready, and confront him as the birds chirp at the sunrise."I'm going to work." I pull the uniform over my head and shoot Phel a tex
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