I catch sight of my unforgiving smirk in the fender of my modified Range Rover when the headlights of my father’s chauffeur-driven Audi shift to the right. This is a one-way track, so his driver, Mario, either executes a three-point turn in atrocious conditions or squeezes by the minute snippet of space my Range Rover isn’t taking up.
My father would never allow the latter to happen. He’d rather risk being bogged than show weakness. It’s another unwanted trait I inherited from him. We’re more alike than I’ll ever admit, but there’s one difference between us—I’m willing to show weakness if it’s for the greater good.
This is for the greater good.
Roxanne’s eyes lift to mine when the taillights of my father’s car disappear into the black abyss of an almost moonless night. They’re wide and terrified and have my cock tapping at the zipper in my trousers like it did when she placed herself onto the table during our unrequired negotiations.
They were unrequired because if I wanted to fuck her, she’d be splayed across the hood of my Range Rover now, being thoroughly pounded as my cock has begged to do since I spotted her in the alley. However, that isn’t what this is about. For once in my life, my libido isn’t part of the equation. This is about placing my daughter before anyone—even me.
“You will do what I say precisely when I tell you to do it, or we’ll come back here and settle the score. Do you understand?”
She has nothing to fight with except her looks, which she uses to her advantage when she dips her chin. It isn’t the rake of her teeth over her plump bottom lip I’m paying attention to, it’s the fat, salty blob rolling down her cheek. It’s stained with blackness and has me recalling the color of the blood that runs through my veins.
It wasn’t always that way. Before my heart was scolded beyond repair, my blood used to run red. Now it’s stained with the murkiness of my dark, bleak existence—an existence Roxanne is now a part of.
Chapter Seventeen
Roxanne
Rocco’s hand falls from my face when the gravelly voice of Dimitri rolls across the cabin of his car. “Let it be. It’s just a graze.” He locks his eyes with mine. They’re as tormented and beautiful as they were when he took his shot. He fired at me as predicted, but instead of the bullet burrowing deep into my skull, it skimmed past my right cheek, leaving a slither of a burn. “The more you pick at it, the more it will scab. If you don’t want another scar, leave it alone.”
The heat from the graze on my cheek is barely noticeable until he returns his eyes to the scenery whizzing by his window. He’s been detached since our negotiations were finalized during the first forty minutes of our trip like his mind is far from here.
I discover that’s the case when he tugs his cell phone out of his pocket. Although he doesn’t dial a number, he speaks down the line as if he did. “I need my father’s schedule synced with mine as soon as possible.” The man he’s speaking to attempts to interrupt him, but Dimitri continues spraying out orders, faulting his effort. “His movements the past three months are to be on my desk before dawn, and any upcoming functions over the next two weeks should be forwarded with them.”
“On it,” says a man with a uniquely distinctive accent. It’s either British or Australian. It could even be a combination of both. “Anything else?”
“One last thing.” My pulse twangs in my neck when Dimitri shifts his eyes to me. They’re as hot as ever, even with them being the color of ice. “Call Alice. I want to see her tonight. Offer her double for the late hour.”
It’s deplorable to comment on the jealousy roaring through me, so I won’t. We’re not friends or lovers. I am his property until he says otherwise. His stipulations during our one-sided talk were as clear as glass. I’m to do what he says, when he says, for exactly how long he says. If I do that, I’ll come out of the exchange with my life intact. If I don’t, I won’t want to know the consequences of my stupidity.
His threat would frighten me if I had more family than I do. If it weren’t for Estelle, I may have let him kill me.
My eyes float up from my clenched fists when the man on the other end of the line says, “Consider it done.”
Dimitri’s eyes remain on me even with his focus being devoted to his caller. “Tell her I want the works.” When my eyes unwillingly roll, his lips do their favored half-smirk. “No holds barred.”
I imagine the gleam in Smith’s eyes matches Dimitri’s when he replies, “Alice knows what you like, so she won’t let you down.”
Their call ends just as the Range Rover pulls onto the curb across from my building. You’d think the embarrassment I felt begging for my life would keep my annoyance on the down-low. Regretfully, my hair isn’t red for no reason.
It matches my fiery personality.
I slip out the back of Dimitri’s car so fast, even if he wants to follow me, the brutal slam of his door in his face won’t allow it. I’m not running. I know the terms we agreed upon during the first half of our trip. My ass is Dimitri’s until his daughter is returned without a scratch. But that doesn’t mean I have to continue displaying the weak, pathetic woman I did in the woods an hour and a half ago.
I hate that I begged at Dimitri’s feet. I’ve only ever pleaded for one thing in my life, and that teary wish was never answered. I want a redo of my last conversation with my nanna. If I knew how things were going to end, I would have hugged her fiercely instead of storming off in a huff the way I did. I was angry she was still treating me like a child, having no clue she was only treating me that way because I was acting like a child.
My eyes snap to the door of the outdated elevator in my building when a tattooed hand shoots out to stop it from closing. I’m anticipating for Rocco to join me inside, although quiet, he seemed more on my side than Dimitri’s during our negotiations, so you can imagine my shock when Dimitri enters the confined space in his place.
After pulling across the rickety gate that’s meant to keep us safe in this death trap, he jabs his finger into the ‘close door’ button multiple times in a row, obviously impatient.
Once the elevator shudders into action, he shifts on his feet to face me. He looks set to remind me of our agreement, but instead, steers our conversation in a direction I never saw coming. “Stay away from Rocco.” His gruff tone gobbles up my scoff. “He has a soft spot for battered women, but that isn’t what this is about.” While saying ‘this,’ he shifts his hand between us. “If you want to fuck him after this is over, that’s your choice, but I won’t allow it to occur under my watch. I won’t be made to look like a fool.”
“Like your wife was?” I snap out before I can stop myself.
Mercifully, the elevator car arrives at my floor a nanosecond later, saving me from being scolded by the wrath of his anger in a tight confinement. I barely survived it in his car the past hour and a half, so I don’t see me faring well in a much tighter space.
Incapable of breathing through the sternness of his glare, I mutter out, “I understand your request. I’ll keep my mitts to myself.”
I break into the hallway before he can see my mouth’s arched response to the hesitation firing through his eyes. He was satisfied with my response until he realized that means my hands won’t go anywhere near him, either.