CHAPTER TWO
I control my temperas I push my rented Tesla as hard as it can go back to the hotel. I park in my designated spot in the underground parking garage and punch the elevator button for the penthouse.
As expected, as the elevator doors open, Tio stands like a statue, his massive arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t ask how it went. I respect that about him. He’s a smart enough man to read the annoyance etched in my face. I storm past him and down the hall to the private office situated off the master suite.
The bed was built for sex. Loaded with pillows and fitted with white sheets as soft as satin. I could imagine all sorts of tangled limbs across it. Not all sorts. Mine. Callista’s. Hell, Gia’s. She turned my dick hard as steel the second she asked if I wanted coffee.
Fuck. Before that. I couldn’t take my eyes off her curves as she crossed the diner to offer me coffee. If there hadn’t been an audience, I would have bent her over the table and fucked her until she could no longer walk.
Callista. Gia. I don’t give a shit what she calls herself. She’d be calling my name as I–
“Fuck.” I cup my balls. They’ve gotta be blue by now. If I had more time, I’d take a cold shower and jack off to Gia–Callista’s face. No, not her face. I don’t think of a woman’s face when I fist myself. Her tits. Her ass. Her tight pussy. Never her face. And definitely not her mouth.
I’d never been drawn to a woman’s lips unless they were suctioned around my cock. And even then, it’s not about her, it’s about me. I’m a selfish bastard, but women always know what they’re getting into with me. I’ve never forced a woman, and I’d never take an innocent.
The sluttier and naughtier the better. The less I have to worry about ruining her because that’s what evil does. Ruin. Destroy. Kill.
I’m one step above evil. I have the devil running through my veins and a parking lot of sins to eventually atone for. Right now, I don’t care about my sins. Especially since I have detailed plans on committing many more.
I cross the room to the whiskey decanter and pour myself a drink. I shoot it back, not caring that it isn’t even nine in the morning. My plan had been to walk into the diner, order Callista to follow me to my car, and stick her on my private jet. I had chloroform and a handkerchief in my pocket to speed the process along.
It shouldn’t have been that challenging at seven in the morning. Had I been paying better attention I could have gotten ahold of her on her way into the diner. But instead, I’d let my mind wander. Now I was paying for it.
I’m not used to begging for a woman’s attention. Not used to asking. I glance at my watch then move to the office and open my laptop. I spend the next two hours answering emails, checking on my investments, and making sure everything is in place for our return.
My staff is limited. My doing. There aren’t many I trust, and the staff my uncle has are loyal to him. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten rid of any moles and traitors, but I can’t afford to be too confident or too lax.
When Bianca was born, father tried to cut ties with his relatives and start fresh in Gazo, but the evil in our bloodline ran too deep. It cost my family their lives. My uncle saw the strength and power in me as a young teen and trained me, groomed me, to be one of his men.
Little did he know the evil that ran so deep within my blood.
It took me five years to destroy him and all the others he’d groomed. Uncle Sal wasn’t born a leader, and his following was small and weak. I was no saint, but I didn’t prey on the weak. On women or children. Unlike Uncle Sal and Lorenzo Parisi.
Running the estate on Gazo like my father had dreamed had given me more freedom in my business choices. I like not having to answer to anyone. I like being feared. It means people don’t dare cross me.
I’m an asshole and don’t try to hide it.
And it gives me more time to plot my revenge.
Needing to let off some steam, I change into my gym shorts and make use of the ensuite gym. Running six miles relieves some of the pressure of my pulsing dick and helps to clear my mind. After a shower, I reach for my Hugo Boss suit and pause. The suit would scare her off. Eyeing the jeans and shirt on the floor of the bathroom, I pick them up and put them back on.
It’s Wednesday, which means Callista—Gia, I had to keep reminding myself, at least until I had her on my turf—would stop at the farmer’s market on her way back to her apartment.
I’ll take her, then I can call her whatever the hell I want.
I don’t need to tell Tio where I’m going. He knows. I drive down the boulevard and park a little distance from the park. The sun is shining, and it’s a comfortable seventy degrees. I can see the appeal of San Diego, but there are too many people. I miss the fresh ocean air of Gazo. The smell of fresh dirt and grapes.
Soon.
I haven’t been to a farmer’s market since I was a kid. The flash of a memory of holding my mother’s hand as my sister skipped along, talking a mile a minute, plays fresh in my mind. I push it away and focus on my surroundings.
Call—Gia—tended to gravitate toward the back corner where three elderly ladies sold their fruits and vegetables. The key was to get there first so it wouldn’t seem like I was following her. I glance down the road and spot her among the crowd.
For someone trying to blend in, she sure stands out. She isn’t like the women I normally associate with. Looking around the market, none of these women would fit in my world. They move about their day unaware of the ugliness in the world. The evil lurking around the corner.
Evil doesn’t live far from here. It hides in dark basements as much as it stands out in white mansions. Gia’s long legs move her along at a clipped pace. I hurry toward the elderly trio and pick up an eggplant.
“Betsy says her eggplant parmesan is better than mine, but I say my recipe takes the cake. Care to settle a bet for us?”