“Fine?” I ask, looking back at her from the swirling steam. “You don't like the designers?”
“Were they influenced by the style of ninety-year-old nuns?” She keeps a straight face, arms folded over her chest like she means business.
For the first time in forever, I’m amused and horny at the same time. “I picked ones that would cover up your bruises.” I trap my lower lip with my teeth when she crosses her thighs. “I’ll speak with my mother. She’ll have other options for you to wear tomorrow.”
“What’s happening tomorrow?” she fires back.
“A few important allies are flying in.” No doubt Papá is cursing me from his brimstone throne. Outsiders aren’t welcome here. Doing this is a show of faith to the men who’ve shown us loyalty. Once Papá is laid to rest, the plantation would be vacated. The rooms would echo, the floors would gather dust, and the manicured lawns would turn wild. Over time, this so-called family home would turn into a glorified mausoleum. “I’m officially taking charge and want to discuss my plans for the future. It’s not really a party, more of a get together.”
“Right…” Her gaze lingers on my stony dick.
I run my hand over the length of it. Aware I’m not only tormenting myself, but I’m playing with her too. My dick physically throbs, painfully straining to be inside her. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish my shower.”
She inhales at the same time as I do, then brushes her fingertips through the lengths of her hair. I brought this woman here to serve me, yet right now all I can think of is worshiping her. Filling her so full of my cum that it trickles free while she watches Papá’s funeral. The idea shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does, but fuck, I’m seconds away from choking her with the stuff.
When she backs away, I move my head under the jets’ welcoming warm water to sluice over my tired limbs. It feels good, but not half as revitalizing as her body plastered next to mine would be.
“Carina,” I call after her. “Be a good girl today. If anyone asks who you are, tell them you’re my personal assistant.”
* * *
“Personal assistant?” The old guy with a smooth vulture-like head and thick wrinkles, chuckle-wheezes. “Is that what you call them these days?” My father’s friend of twenty-odd years winks at Carina. It makes my skin crawl.
He keeps pace with us as we stroll over the sheltered walkway leading away from the main house. “Elias had many things, but never a peachy-assedsecretary,” Roberto scoffs, as if it’s unheard of not to follow in my father’s footsteps.
When we reach the outdoor location set up for Papá’s send off, he taps the bronze tip of his walking stick on the dry boards underfoot to steady himself, unpockets a gold tin, pings it open, and picks out a fat, rolled Cuban cigar.
The way he’s sizing her up has me close to stuffing the bound leaves down his throat, followed by his stick, and then my fist.
He secures the tip between his front teeth and sucks in a few times to help the end of his cigar catch fire from the Zippo.
“Very nice,” he purrs like the dirty old bastard he is, puffing smoke around us.
His reptilian eyes roam the curve of her breasts hidden in the flouncy black material I know she hates. I sense her revulsion at his inspection, even when her naturally colored lips curl politely, playing the role perfectly.
It’s not the slight shiver prickling her skin from being outdoors, it’s the way she unintentionally moves closer into me. There’s a secret undercurrent of chemistry between us, controlling my senses and tuning them to the same frequency as hers. It’s a visceral bond that’s proving difficult to ruin.
“I’m sure she enjoys being worked hard?” Roberto smiles darkly, his suggestion cutting too close to my bones.
My temper snarls beneath the three-piece charcoal suit I’m wearing. I imagine how he’d react to having his eyeballs torched, one followed by the other, and subconsciously slide my hand to the small of her back so she’s nestled snugly to my hip.
“I’m not my father, Roberto.” I pat his shoulder with the other hand, firm and assertive. “Don’t forget, we own legitimate businesses too. Those require full time management while I focus on finding Papá’s killer.” Roberto swipes a glass of whiskey from the silver tray a waiter presents to him. “It means I can bring in more money to fund your special projects.”
The greedy fucker hums out his approval. “Perhaps, if you’re smart enough to find and slaughter the men responsible, you’ll do me the courtesy of loaning out your assistant for a few weeks?” His gaze drinks her in as he swills the alcohol. “She’s exquisitely intriguing.”
I hate how he’s baiting me. That beneath my usual cold exterior, I’m reacting to it. My guts are twisted to painful knots and my veins boil with rage. It would be easy to reach for my gun and systematically shoot each of his vital organs.
However, he never crosses a threshold without his own security detail. He’s like family, an annoying old cunt who only shows up at weddings and funerals, and has his nose in everyone’s business. Plus, I can't be bothered with a messy shootout moments before the ceremony.
Nor can I keep killing people in my circle all because this woman is under my skin. It won’t be long before the charade is over.
This wrinkly bastard doesn’t need to point out how gorgeous she is. Her youth alone is a desirable quality, and the celestial way her body moves when she’s under my control is extraordinary. I know she’s an expensive commodity, because I own her. Me. Not this old fuck.
Her sweet voice penetrates the murder I’ve just committed in broad daylight, in my mind.
“Unfortunately not.” She returns with refinement. “I’m extremely busy with Tomás’ projects. He’s quite the slave driver,” she quips.
Roberto laughs from deep in his belly and tips his tumbler in appreciation. “Let me know if he ever releases your shackles, my dear.”