“Bishop’s Landing,” he said, and my stomach lurched.
The seat of my family’s power. And the seat of his. The Morellis and the Constantines had both occupied the affluent town for generations. Why two warring families would choose to live so close together, I would never understand. There was even a joke sometimes, whispered among those feeling particularly brave, that the massive feud had once started over a neighborly dispute. They would take something regular neighbors fight about and make it something extravagant. They must have been fighting over their diamond encrusted fence. Or, their exotic tiger probably ate the miniature chihuahua who lived alone in the pool house next door.
It was the place my kidnapper was driving me to, a place where he would be at risk for discovery, a place where he had allies all around him.
It was a place of contradiction. Of risk.
Of an almost self-destructive form of courage.
Farewell, New York City.
Hello, hometown.
Chapter Two
Lucian
Elaine Constantine was a little blonde butterfly driving me insane in that back seat. Her pursed lips were still holding onto her spite, trying to be a little firebrand in my grip. It only made me even more desperate to toy with her.
I knew I was playing with fire, taking things to the next level when I told the cab driver Bishop’s Landing. It was almost an hour from New York City. I could’ve caged Elaine in my Manhattan apartment for a few long days safely enough without any questioning, and that’s what I should have been going for—a few long days with the butterfly before I ripped her wings off one by one. But I didn’t. My filthy heart wouldn’t let me give up my dirty little plaything so soon. I wanted every damn fucking second with her I could claim.
Bishop’s Landing was the answer.
It was the heart of both the Constantines and the Morellis. A fitting place for me to consummate my obsession. Despite the fact that it was our family seat, I rarely spent time here. My time was usually torn heavily between Morelli Holdings and Violent Delights. Now I drove us to the elaborate estate I owned, far enough away that we could have our privacy. No one would hear her when she screams my name.
She was watching the mansions rolling past outside, trying her best to feign disinterest.
Her blonde hair was alive under the glow of the passing streetlights. Her slim delicacy made her look like a porcelain puppet ready to be worked by the puppet master. I was glad that I was proving to be the puppet master, not the fucking Power brothers.
I approached them and confirmed her debt. Over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Not her own money spent on drugs or gambling. She was paying off the debt of men and women who had children. She was, in her own twisted, party girl way, trying to make the world a better place.
“I know you’re looking at me, Lucian,” she said. “I can feel the lust in your eyes.”
She wasn’t wrong.
I didn’t reply.
Even afraid, she wanted me.
We were opposites, drawn together inexorably. Both of us, transfixed by the black magic of our flesh. Not to mention she had an incredible body.
I could still feel her tight ass milking my cock dry from where I’d claimed her. Still feel the mix of rage and desire in her. Rage because she thought she was going to get a good fucking for the first time in her sorry life. Desire because she loved it. Loved me fucking her dirty little asshole. I’d been reliving the thrill over and over.
The memory was burned into me—fucking her Constantine ass in a pool of another man’s blood. I’d butchered him for touching her. I knew it would be burnt into her, too.
We were both snared with our own mutual hate and filth intertwined.
We were both well into the depths of the forbidden from both fucking families. I’d crossed the line the very first moment I’d kissed her at Tinsley Constantine’s ball.
May as well get my twisted thrill from her.
The streets turned into stretches of open road surprisingly quick. The silence grew heavy as we grew closer to our destination. The cab driver said nothing, just kept his eyes ahead.
I only hoped we were doing a decent enough job at feigning a regular life in a regular world. “Up here on the left,” I told him, and directed him up the driveway to my place.
My Bishop’s Landing house was one of the smallest in the town. It was also one of the most expensive. Every piece of marble was hand selected from India. The cloths used to wrap each large plate cost more than most people made in a year.
Yes, the Morelli family had money.
Old money. New money. We had all the fucking money we needed.
The fight over the company was never really about money. My father and I both had enough to play with private jets as if they were toy cars. This was about power. The power to support the family and control its pursestrings. The power to help my siblings the way I never did as a child. The fates of tens of thousands of employees, whose livelihoods hung in the balance.
And I’d failed. Given up. Were those the right words?
Perhaps it would be more correct to say I’d traded that in for Elaine Constantine. The woman I shouldn’t want. The woman my body couldn’t live without.
Of course, the smallest house in Bishop’s Landing was still 8,000 square feet. And I had over an acre of land. We pulled down the white-gravel road and rolled to a stop at the front of the door. A contemporary monstrosity, my mother had said when she saw the architect’s designs. In Bishop’s Landing? Darling, think of its illustrious history. It wasn’t contemporary actually. It was mid-century modern, but my mother didn’t understand style that didn’t include gilt scrolls. She thought mid-century modern was one of those California hippie things. Like feng shui. Or pot.
“Here,” I said, and the cab pulled up at the top of the driveway. The place was pitch dark. Massive glass panes rose above us, looming in a perfect, jagged edge. Imported white quartz bricks gleamed faintly in the moonlight. A few military-straight bushes lined the front.
It gave me a little shiver of lust to see Elaine trying so hard to see our destination in the shadows. Here we were, at the cage of her torment. I was the big bad wolf waiting to tear open his prey. It was a civilized lair, but there was nothing civilized about the way I wanted her.
“Keep the change,” I told the driver and handed over just a sliver more than the right amount. Nothing too obvious or notable. Nothing for him to remember if he’s questioned.
Elaine didn’t have a last-minute freak-out as I opened her door for her. She didn’t have a burst of save me! for the driver. She didn’t try to run off into the night.
No. She was a good girl. She stepped out of the cab and resigned herself to her fate like a sweet little lamb to the slaughter.
I watched the cab rumble away down the driveway before I dug the keys out of my pocket. I’d barely used them over the past year, too caught up in Morelli Holdings and business life to scrape even a scrap of time away from the city.
I left Elaine standing on the spot as I headed up to the front door. Even with my back to her, I knew she was staring intently over at me with her heart in her throat as I pushed the key into the lock and opened the door, ready and waiting.
“Come on in and meet your fate,” I said and led the way inside.