“Earth to Aspen, hello?”
I stare up from sipping my coffee that’s spiked with tequila at Caroline’s expectant face.
We’re sitting in my apartment with her two huskies on either side of her like guardian angels—or devils, considering their names—Lucifer and Cain.
The excuse Caroline came up with is that her giant house is too cold and lonely and she needs a warm body to hug.
The victim has been me for a week now. I tried kicking her out the first few days, but I eventually gave up.
Caroline is way softer than me, like too soft, so she’s been squashed more times than either of us can count, but she also happens to be a stubborn little thing when it comes to those she cares about.
Part of her freeloading bribe is bringing alcohol and putting on a rerun of Friends every night. There’s barely any watching involved, though, since she uses the time to talk about the past, her train wreck of a life, and attempts to milk me for information.
“I was listening, Callie.”
She throws down a plush pillow—that she brought with her because God forbid I have those fluffy things around—and attacks another slice of chocolate cake. In her rabbit pajamas and with her hair pulled into a bun, she looks creepily young. Especially when she scowls at me. “Oh, yeah? What was I talking about?”
“How good Mateo is in bed.” I roll my eyes. “For the millionth time. Are you sure divorce is what you’re after at this point?”
“Just because he’s a good fuck doesn’t mean I’ll step on my pride for him. I don’t go catching feelings for dicks, Aspen. Come on, that’s like the first rule in the girl honor book.”
I swirl my coffee and pull up the strap of my cotton dress that’s fallen off my shoulder. “That’s good and all, but my neck is still on the line.”
“Don’t worry. I told Mateo you’re like my sister from another mister. He’s an asshole, but he’s honorable enough and has stupid codes he abides by—that don’t include cheating obviously. He won’t touch you.”
“Nicolo would.”
“Not if we get divorced. That’s been the snake’s aim since the beginning.”
I slide to the edge of the chair. “Listen. Are you sure he cheated? He denied it in front of me and again in front of you the other day when you had an epic fight. In my apartment, mind you.”
Her cheeks flush a deep shape of red. “I saw him sleeping with a woman sprawled all over his chest in a hotel. What more proof do I need?”
“And how did you happen to go to that hotel? To that specific room?”
She stares at the loud characters on TV, tears shining in her eyes. “I found the hotel’s business card and the reservation receipt in his jacket pocket. The hotel manager let me into his room with the master keycard once I told him I’m a Luciano, and then I found Mateo with a side piece. A young side piece, who looked barely in her twenties. I know we’ve been having issues trying for a baby and shit, and he’s not exactly the affectionate type, but he’s also well aware that putting his dick in New York’s available holes is a hard limit for me. Sometimes, I can’t believe he’d do that to me. Other times, I remember the hard evidence.”
I tap my bottom lip. “That hard evidence is suspicious.”
Caroline looks at me from beneath her wet lashes. “Suspicious how?”
“The day you had a fight, Mateo said his memories are hazy about that night. He went to see a business associate and had a drink, yet he’s well aware he slept alone and didn’t touch another woman.”
“Mateo would say anything to deceive me.”
“He doesn’t seem like the type who sugarcoats anything, Callie. If he’d cheated, he would’ve flat out said it and used force to make you go back to him. But he’s been visiting like a reserved Victorian era duke who’s courting a lady. Not to mention his goons’ black cars that keep following you everywhere so that no scum like Della Roma can put his hands on you.”
She purses her lips. “Bitch. Are you on my side or his?”
“Yours. It’s clear you’re suffering, considering all the sugary things you keep consuming to an unhealthy level and how you get emotional out of nowhere.”
She winces, licking the cake that’s stuck to her fingers. “You noticed that?”
“Of course I did. So how about you see to the end of this instead of torturing yourself and him?”
“I thought your boss Nicolo ordered you to get us divorced. He’d be after your head if he finds out you’re playing marriage counselor.”
“Nicolo doesn’t matter.”
She grins girlishly, like when we used to exchange Christmas presents, because the only gifts our families gave us were traumas. “And I do?”
I clear my throat and continue drinking from my coffee.
“Oh my God, look at our little hellion catching feelings for me.”
“Don’t push it, Callie.”
She laughs and jumps up from the sofa to snuggle into my side, on a freaking chair. It barely fits us, but she wraps herself around me like a koala. As if that isn’t enough, her dogs also join in the sappy family hug. We had a rocky start, but Cain and Lucifer have taken a liking to me.
Caroline hugs my waist like a needy toddler and I sigh. “I’m trying to drink my coffee.”
“Just call it tequila already. Also, it’s not good to drink coffee in the evening. You’ll have trouble sleeping.”
I have trouble sleeping anyway, but instead of admitting that, I say, “I have to review some drafts before going to sleep.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a workaholic?”
“You. Every day.”
“Someone else needs to say it. Is your baby daddy exploiting you? Want me to unleash Mateo on him?”
I pause with the cup at my lips, then take a long sip that clogs my throat.
In her attempts to rekindle our relationship, Caroline got me drunk one night and I ended up telling her everything about the Kingsley mess.
How I hadn’t realized he was the one who took my virginity, innocence and knocked me up on the first try. How he raised our daughter on his own. And how irrevocably out of depth he makes me feel.
Especially lately.
A shudder goes through me in mere remembrance of how he licked my cheeks and almost kissed me that day at the bar.
And the worst part is that I gave him the reaction he bargained for before his lips even met mine. Embarrassment is just the beginning of what I felt and still feel for that lapse in judgment. I lost control with an ease that scares the shit out of me. Which is why I’ve been avoiding him with a passion that rivals my need to escape my filthy origins.
“We don’t really work together,” I tell Caroline with a dismissive tone that should propel her to drop the subject.
But then again, she’s worse than her own dogs with a bone. “Yeah, but you’re always in each other’s vicinity doing Nicolo’s legal work and even having meetings.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Why the hell did you emphasize meetings?”
“Because that’s where all the action happens. Duh.”
“N-no action happened.”
“Oh my God.” She finally releases me, her lips opening like a fish. “It did!”
“No, it didn’t.”
“You stuttered like a high school girl with a crush on the quarterback, and you never even had crushes.”
“Shut up.” I slam a hand to her face to block her gleeful expression, but she just pokes my side and continues grinning as if she’s high on weed.
She escapes my clutches and adopts a narrative tone, pretending to hold an imaginary mic. “Dear diary, I found the man who flipped my world upside down on Devil’s Night twenty-one years ago, and I want a redo on Satan’s lair. Please and thank you.”
“Callie, I swear to fuck, either you shut up or I’m throwing you out the window.”
“Sounds kinky and would be more action than I’ve had in weeks. The other day, I accidentally set the shower spray too high and came immediately.”
“And you’re telling me because…”
“Uh…I don’t know, you might need the tip, considering your own lack of action. That, coupled with tension, can be a hassle to deal with.”
“Thanks for the concern.”
“Anytime!”
“Can we please change the subject?”
“No way in hell. I’m not getting off your case unless you tell me what happened today between the two of you.”
I take another sip of my coffee. “And what makes you think something happened?”
“Because you’ve been sighing like an old woman who has the world sitting on her shoulders.”
“I’m just thinking about cases.”
“You’re too much of a boss bitch to worry about work. You can do that shit with your eyes closed. Besides, I heard you muttering ‘that motherfucker’ under your breath while you were making your tequila. Sorry, I mean coffee. And there’s only one motherfucker who gets you angry to the point of cursing him out of the blue.”
I groan. “Is there any way I can convince you to drop this?”
“Yes.” She smiles sweetly. “By giving me deets.”
“It’s nothing important.”
“You tell me and I’ll decide.”
“He was just being a jerk, as usual.” I release a frustrated breath. “I mean, I get it. He kicks it up a notch whenever he has a hearing with his stepmother, but he had no damn business taking it out on me. I was only five minutes late to the partners’ meeting because of a client, and he asked me, in front of all the partners, if I respected them. When I said, of course, he was like ‘Apparently not enough or you would’ve shown up on time, Ms. Leblanc.’”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. That’s the closest I’ve been to murder. He is such an asshole with Machiavellianism running in his veins instead of blood.”
“Yeah, off with his head in the guillotine. The jerk.”
“Asshole.”
“Dickhead with fragile masculinity.”
“Motherfucking bastard.” I huff. “I can’t believe he won two cases in one damn day. I swear he gets his energy from sacrificing poor souls at the devil’s altar.”
“Aspen, honey, you’re not supposed to admire him when we’re planning to cut off his dick and feed it to my dogs. What do you guys call it? Right, conflict of interest.”
“I don’t admire him. I just…”
“Consider him a rival?”
I sigh. “The worst kind. Sometimes, I wish I was as assertive as he is, but I guess that means discarding my newly found heart, and I kind of need that.”
“Yeah, no discarding hearts. That shit will leave you empty. Besides, maybe the fact that he’s rich, hot as sin, and successful is all a façade to hide his hollow insides.”
“There’s nothing hollow about Kingsley, Callie. He’s bigger than the world and could be seen from space.”
“Or maybe that’s what he likes you and the world to think.” She raises a brow. “I’ve been married to a mafia boss for, like, three years and I’ve breathed the air of dangerous men every day, so I know when they bubble wrap their exterior with dazzling shit that’s meant to blind anyone who attempts to look closer. Your Kingsley ranks high on the bullshit scale.”
“He is not my Kingsley.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Your baby daddy and the man who stole your fourteen-year-old heart. Maybe we should add villain of your soul to the list?”
Before I can smack her and risk being bitten by her dogs, the doorbell rings. Caroline pales and it’s my turn to grin. “Your own villain is finally here, so you can stop obsessing over staring at the clock.”
“Don’t open the door,” she says, but I’m already up. “I swear to God I’ll send Kingsley your actual diaries from back then, bitch.”
“Joke’s on you, already burned them, bitch, so unless you’re up for a vacation in hell, that won’t be happening. Oh, also, you have mascara on your cheek, might want to remove that.” I’m smiling as she curses and runs to the bedroom to make herself look presentable. She says she hates the man, but she still wants to look her best in front of him.
I grab a sweater from the dining area and put it on before I open the door. Caroline can be a bit naïve sometimes or else she wouldn’t think I’d be able to keep this door shut when Mateo is right outside. It’s not like he’ll dutifully stay put.
He might be acting patient with her, but he’ll bring the thing down if she refuses to see him, and I kind of need my door.
“Aspen,” he greets as soon as I open it, looking way better than his haggard state that day he nearly slashed my face.
“Mateo. Do come in, though I don’t think you need the invitation.”
“I actually do.”
“Are you a vampire, after all?”
“No, just a well-mannered Italian around my wife’s friends.” He narrows his eyes and I narrow mine back before stepping aside.
“I’ll get out of your hair for about thirty minutes. And, Mateo?”
“Yes?”
“Do us all a favor and either convince her you’re innocent or just let her go. Either way, please stop using my space for your courting sessions.”
“Noted.” He nods once and enters as if he has every right to.
Shaking my head, I shove my feet into my nearest comfy shoes, grab my wallet, and step out.
I regret not wearing a thicker sweater or a coat as soon as the cold air licks my skin. But freezing is a better poison than witnessing Mateo and Callie’s repetitive fights.
There’s the option of asking his goons parked outside to get me the coat, but Mateo will probably throw them over the balcony if they interrupt his sacred wife time.
So I opt to walk at a brisk pace to generate more body heat. I pass by a boutique that’s showcasing a beautiful dress with vanilla orchid motif and don’t think twice before I go inside and buy it.
Then I ask the lady to wrap it and send it to Gwen’s new address.
She’ll be coming home soon, and while I want to give her the gift personally, I’d make it awkward and she’d be turned off by me. So a contactless gift is the best option I have while hoping she’ll like it.
My lips pull in a smile at the remembrance of how she said hi.
My daughter told her asshole father to tell me hi. Not to exaggerate, but I didn’t sleep at all that night. And fine, maybe some of that had to do with how I kept tingling due to a certain man’s touch.
As much as I like to think I’m unaffected, my heart picks up speed whenever I recall the sensual way his lean fingers held my face or how his lips and tongue feasted on my cheeks. Why does he affect me so? Just…why?
I walk faster in a fruitless attempt to chase away thoughts of him and even try to focus on my surroundings. It’s the best method to keep from getting stuck in my busy head.
That’s when I notice I’ve stepped into a not-so-good neighborhood. Having lived in the ghetto my entire childhood, I recognize the stench of piss and vomit as a sign of poverty, drug overdoses, and bodies sold in the dark.
Oh, and a woman sleeping on stinking sheets with pills all around her.
Bad neighborhoods taste of bitter tears, expired food, and human waste.
Bad neighborhoods have a dangerous soul, a black heart, and the mercy of a tyrant god.
And even though I’ve done whatever it took to escape, I find myself back in this hellhole again. I wonder if I’ll always gravitate toward the danger from my childhood the same way Caroline did.
Maybe, like her, I’ll only find solace in a ruler of the underground who wouldn’t be scared of bad neighborhoods.
I slowly remove that thought from my head and whirl around to leave.
A rustle sounds from behind me and before I can investigate it, a thud pierces the air. My eyes burn, and the next time I blink them open, I’m on my knees, head lolling to the side.
I don’t try to look at my assailant or make sense of this situation. My shaky fingers find my wallet and I manage to grab my small pepper spray that’s attached to my keychain and press it aimlessly behind me.
The moment I realize I’ve made a mistake, it’s too late. I thought there was only one attacker, but a heavy boot slams into my chest, knocking me back with frightening ease.
My head hits a disgustingly warm surface—another person’s body—and stars form behind my eyes when a man punches me in the face.
His friend steps on my shoulder with his boot and I bite my tongue to keep from screaming.
The second punch comes, then the third, and by the time they finish, my mouth is flooding with a pungent metallic taste.
I don’t realize they’ve disappeared until I hear heavy retreating footsteps. Still, I lie there, my head as heavy as a brick, and my limbs sprawled out in an unnatural position.
The need to dissolve into the ground is far greater than my will to live, but the thought that they could come back and rape me, or leave the job to someone else from the slums, gives me the energy I wouldn’t have thought was possible.
I don’t know how I manage to use the wall for balance, pull my sweater around me, and walk, but I do.
Pain explodes in my every joint, one of my eyes is too swollen to see with and my lips feel too big for my face.
I think something is fractured or bruised in my chest, too, because breathing is similar to hiking Everest with a broken leg.
Logically, I know I need to see a doctor, but I’d rather die than go to the hospital.
Yes, Gwen is alive, but I’ve been traumatized by hospitals ever since they placed a stillborn baby in my arms, and I haven’t dealt with that trauma or any of the other traumas in my life.
I don’t know how long I walk, but it’s long enough that I lose feeling in my legs, get weird looks from dispassionate New Yorkers, and collapse against a wall a time or two—or a dozen.
Finally, I manage to catch a taxi and throw myself inside. The driver stares at me through the rearview mirror, his brown eyes appearing hazy and demon-like in the mirror. “Are you okay, miss? Should I take you to the hospital?”
“No…not the hospital…” I blurt my address incoherently, my lips barely moving, then I collapse against the faux leather seat.
I shake my head every now and again, fighting the black dots that spread across my vision and the lull of unconsciousness.
I just need to go home and pull myself together and then report this—
My chest clenches when the car stops and I lift my head but don’t find the building I live in.
Instead, I’m staring into a toothy demon at the top of a large black metal gate that’s fresh out of a gothic film.
Kingsley’s mansion.
Damn it. What am I doing here?
“We’re here, miss,” the driver says, his voice sounding far away.
“This isn’t my apartment…”
“This is the address you gave me. Do you want me to take you someplace else?” His eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, blurry and fresh out of a thriller movie.
“No, thank…you…” I shove a few bills in his hand and practically wrench myself out of the car.
He remains there, for a while, probably thinking I’m crazy. Or maybe he’s one of them and they sent him to finish the job.
It takes all the strength I have to approach the gate, dragging my feet and gasping for air.
The taxi finally leaves, and I release a breath. Then my legs decide it’s as good a time as any to abandon me.
I’m ready to slam against the ground, but I fall straight into warm arms.
“Aspen?”
His hard face stares down at me with a frown that’s as dark as a demon lord.
And it shouldn’t make me feel safe.
Or peaceful.
Or fucking right.
But it does.
My fingers dig into his arms and I swallow my own blood as I croak, “I…had nowhere else to go…”
I don’t realize the gravity of my confession when the darkness finally whisks me away.
