“You’re a nice girl, but I don’t want to have dinner with your family. I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”
She started to cry, with the wet blood still smeared on her thighs. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but mixed with semen it looked like someone had been hurt. And they had been.
“You took something from me that I only had to give once,” she said, sobbing. “It’s gone forever. Why would you take something of such value that you only wanted for a few minutes?”
She wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.
Even as a teenager, playing with virgins was unnecessary. There were plenty of experienced girls—and later, women—who were willing to let me into their beds for the night. And when they wanted more, they were better equipped to shoulder the disappointment—because there was never more.
I’ve never lied to a woman to get her into bed, or promised anything I didn’t deliver. That includes Clara Freitas. But I’ve stayed clear of innocents ever since that afternoon with her.It’s not worth the hassle.
No, it’s not important that Daniela’s not a virgin. It would complicate our situation even more.
What is important, what has me so pissed off I could gut someone, is that she tried to play me like I’m a chump. Manipulations and lies are fraternal twins, each carrying the same deceitful gene.
She can’t be trusted. Plain and simple.
It might be my problem, but it’s about to become her problem too—and she’s not going to like it.
I fucked up tonight. Let my personal needs take precedence over my business. Something I never do. I should have responded the first time my phone went off—or at least glanced at it, for Chrissakes.
The worst part is that I knew there was a problem—no one who has my number would call and text three times in the span of fifteen minutes unless there was an issue.A huge issue.
What if it had been a cargo problem, or another emergency that needed my immediate attention?
The stakes are too high for too many people. I can’t afford to be distracted by pussy. Not even a sweet one that quivers deliciously on my tongue.
28
Antonio
“Any news?” I ask as soon as I set foot in the villa.
“They called the priest,” Cristiano says soberly.
It’s not that he gives a shit whether my uncle lives or dies, but every time a major player dies, the ground shifts, and things in the valley become unstable—and dangerous. I hate my uncle, too, but he’s a big player in our world.
“We’re sure it’s Abel?”
“We have eyes on the hospital, inside and out. It’s definitely him.”
“Tomas?”
“He went in the ambulance with your uncle.”
Sucking his cock, I’m sure.
“I’m going to call Rafael.” I turn to Cristiano. “Contact Luis. Have him get the plane ready for a quick trip to London and back.”
“When do you want the flight to leave Porto?”
“As soon as possible. I want Rafa here before the sonofabitch dies. Abel’s taken plenty from that kid, but he’s not taking away his right to say his piece while the old man is still breathing.”
Rafa came to live with me a few years after his mother disappeared. He has dyslexia, and instead of getting him the instruction he needed, his father beat him for being stupid. He pummeled him at every turn. As far as Abel was concerned, the kid couldn’t do anything right. Although it’s as likely Rafa was punished because he was my aunt’s favorite. She loved both her boys, but Rafael was the baby.
Things got so bad that my mother decided to petition for custody. I couldn’t allow it. The last thing I needed was for her to get caught in the crosshairs. My uncle wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. He’d already murdered one Adriano girl. He wasn’t going to kill her sister too. Not while I still had a pulse. Besides, she’d already raised one asshole. She didn’t need to raise another.
Breaking the news to Rafael is the last thing I want to do right now. I don’t care how much of a monster Abel is—he’s still Rafa’s father. It doesn’t matter how cold your blood runs. It still affects you when your father takes his last breath—for good or bad.