Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79991 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“Try some shit like that again,” I warn, “and I won’t be so nice. Do you doubt me?” When she’s slow to respond, still breathless and almost weeping, I lean over her until she recoils in fear. “Answer me. Do you doubt a word I’m saying?”
“No.” The word is feeble, but exactly what I need to hear.
“That’s what I fucking thought. Don’t let me hear you in here for the rest of the day if you know what’s good for you.” The slamming of the door almost drowns out her heartbroken wail. But not quite.
Let her be heartbroken, dammit. Some spoiled princess with probably no idea how the world actually works or the sort of sacrifices involved in our business. Pampered her entire life, expecting everything to turn out the way she wants it to simply because she said so. She’ll be lucky if I don’t take my frustration with her father out on her. Maybe I should remind her of that later; how easy it would be for me to vent my frustration on someone who shares Alvarez’s blood.
Yet if Grandfather ever found out about that—and he would, I’m sure, he misses nothing—he’d have my balls for it. If I’m going to be head of the family one day, I have to learn to think strategically, not emotionally. I can almost hear his warning in my head as I pace the room that will be mine for the duration of this trip.
A trip that now seems like it will take longer than originally planned.
I have to do something, anything, to get rid of this ball of fire in my stomach, threatening to fry me from the inside out. Now that it’s only the two of us in this house, the temptation to take all of this out on her is almost unbearable. That stupid motherfucker Alvarez. He thought he was being clever by leaving me hanging. Does he know what he’s done? How easily I could make him regret his ignorance?
For lack of a better way of killing my erection, I locate the file Grandfather gave us for the purpose of brushing up on the Alvarez family and the Marielito. There it is, the line denoting the existence of a daughter. Elena. There’s no more information on her aside from the fact that she’s an only child.
Wouldn’t a man without the benefit of sons be a bit more careful with his only child? Granted, in our world, women are generally treated as a means to an end. A subject to be bred for the gain or extension of power. Something to fuck or use as a means of solidifying family alliances through marriage. Yet without her, there can be no such alliance. He’s losing some of the only capital he has. How can a man in his position not be smart enough to understand that?
I’d bet I could find a way to make her talk using the correct motivators. She thought the sensation of my switchblade pressed against her chest was scary? How would she feel about it if I offered to cut her a second slit between her thighs? Or maybe she wouldn’t miss the presence of her nipples. Maybe I could offer to remove them for her.
Yet even now, storming around a bedroom that’s only mine for the time being, part of me shrinks away from that idea. Not because it wouldn’t give me pleasure. No, I have no doubt I would savor her screams, her promises, and apologies. The very thought of watching her unravel in front of me until I become the only god she knows revives my softening erection, heightening my hunger.
I shrink away from the idea because no one has ever reached that part of me before. The part of me Grandfather has struggled for so long, so unceasingly, to suppress or even silence.
“You have a darkness in you,” he told me once, “thanks in no small part to that bastard who fathered you.”
Never would he consider his daughter’s blood to be the reason I’m like this. She was nothing less than a saint, an angel who deserved so much more than what life gave her.
Having met my father before ending his worthless life, I have no trouble believing that. I need to turn away from the creature my father turned me into, thanks to what he did to us. No matter how I crave the satisfaction, I can’t sink that low.
Once I’m calm enough to control myself, I leave the room, walking slowly down the hall. I’m sure she can hear my footsteps, and the idea of her cowering on the bed while I pass sends a thrill through me. She would be such a nice way to pass the time.
I’ve never reacted this way to a woman, any woman. I’ve had more than my share, and they’ve all served the same purpose in roughly the same way. It’s never difficult to attract them—the name De Luca is hardly unknown, and I suppose my father passed down decent genetics when it came to physical appearance. Money, power, looks? An aphrodisiac if there ever was one.