Sick Bastard (4 page)

Flipping over the shiny white card, I see something has been written on the back.

I'm sorry.

Along with the business card are ten, one hundred dollar bills. Is he paying me a thousand dollars for services rendered in the back alley, even though it was just a kiss… a very hot, sexy kiss? That was more of an assault on my mouth and my panties. I should probably be paying him.

This makes me feel cheap. I think I’d rather have him slap me in the face. He's fucking crazy so I’m sure he’d be happy to do it. I look over at his table and there he sits, watching me with a smile. I can only shake my head in disgust.

I know he's still watching me so I grab the card and throw it in the trash, knowing damn well he sees the small card float down into the garbage can, but I take the money and fold it in half. Plastering a lovely smile on my face, I let him see as I shove the cash into Lena's back pocket as I pass her. “That's for you, love.” I say as I plant a kiss on her cheek, then pat her ass as I walk away. She deserves it. She's trying to support herself and her ailing grandmother. If I would have kept it, I’d feel like a skank who got paid for acting like a whore.

“What the hell, London? This isn't mine,” Lena calls after me, waving the money in the air.

“Oh yes it is,” I yell back over my shoulder with a smile. That’ll teach that fucker. I’m guilty for my part and I accept that, but I don’t appreciate what that money implied. It’s over and I only have two more weeks. If I have to deal with him again, then I’ll be as pleasant as possible and never let something like tonight ever happen again. I’ll be gone soon enough and I’ll forget all about this.

I glance back one last time to find him standing by the bar, hands shoved in his pockets. I can’t tell if he’s amused by my antics or if he’s gonna throw a serving knife at my head. He’s strange, that’s for sure, so on that thought, I rush to the employee lounge, hoping I don’t get that knife to the back as I go.

Dante

Well fuck, that worked like a charm. Sometimes I wonder if I have any manners at all. My sole purpose of going there tonight got shot to shit the moment I saw her. I threw my scouting and scoping to the fucking wind and now tonight’s goal has changed to one of lurking and prowling. She’s not something I need in the business aspect of my life so I let that go, at least for now. However, my bedroom issues are another matter. She should be warming my bed tonight.

I acted crazy, even by my standards. I have my issues and I deal with them, but it was like I had no control of myself. I just lost it and did whatever the fuck I wanted. Watching other men touch her made me sick and horny, all at the same goddamn time. Seeing those sick fucks’ hands all over that body was fucking wrong, but I couldn’t stop watching. I want her tied up and begging for me. I’ve got it all planned out in my head.

I had to have a little taste. I needed it, really. I had to taste those lips and don’t regret for a second that I did it. I had to fight myself to keep my hands from pulling up that dress and fucking her up against that nasty ass wall. I wanted to take her hard and hear her scream, but I took control of myself and didn’t do any of it. I didn’t hurt her, no matter how much I wanted to.

She wanted it. She would’ve let me do her right then and there, but I have other plans. I wanted her attention and I got it. The only thing I really accomplished with her tonight though was pissing her off. I acted like an irrational dick, but she’ll get used to it. She gave me a little of what I was looking for. Watching her throw my card in the trash and give my tip away to someone else was fucked up. No woman has ever turned me down like that. She was telling me she wasn’t interested, but that’s bullshit. She may not like it, but she wants what I can give her. Once I have my eyes set on something I want, there isn’t a fucking thing anyone can do to keep me from taking it.

This beautiful, sexy woman is gonna make me chase her, and little does she know, I’m more than willing to put in the time. So first, I need to act like a gentleman and at the very least, apologize in person. For that reason, I wait outside in the employee parking area while the rain fucking pours down on me. I’m beginning to think no bitch is worth this much trouble, but still I wait. When she finally leaves, she doesn't come out the door I’m expecting. Dammit.

Walking around to the front of my car, I watch her getting into a waiting town car. Ah, something I didn’t think of, but no bother.

I jump into my own car, soaking wet. “Follow the town car,” I yell at Branson. He nods and pulls into traffic right behind her. I don’t know what I expect to accomplish by stalking her. I take that back, I know why. I have a tendency to take everything I do to insane, even dangerous extremes. If I set out to do something, I do it, no matter what the cost. I just don’t give a shit what I have to do to others as long as I get the results I desire.

I'm stalking a woman I don't know, and not for the reasons I intended. I've officially lost my fucking mind. I make a mental note to contact my therapist in the morning. Tonight, I just need a few strong drinks.

The car doesn't go far, only about a mile and a half from the restaurant and pulls up in front of a luxury apartment building that I recognize immediately. I looked in to moving here a while back when I came back to town. They had nothing available, so I stayed in my old place. I already knew she lived in the city, but now I know where to find her. I roll down my window as I see her get out of the car.

“Thank you, Al. I'll see you tomorrow at noon,” she says to the driver. I love the sound of her voice.

“You're more than welcome, my dear. See you tomorrow.”

I watch her go and put things to memory. I memorize the sway of her body as she walks, the very real smile that lights up her face, making her even more stunning. It's not just her looks, although she is devastatingly beautiful, but it's her
being
. There's something about her that calls to me, and it’s something I couldn’t explain if I tried. It’s something I’ve never felt before.

In all honesty, it scares the hell out of me and I don’t like that. Not one bit.

“Take me home.” I’ve at least concluded that her family is doing better than I thought, putting her up in such a place. Security is certainly something that’s not taken lightly when it comes to her. She’s obviously accepting what she’s been given, possibly to please him. I see that I personally need to do more digging into London’s life. I’m more than happy to take on this task myself.

~~~~~~

I head straight for my home office and my computer as soon as I'm through the door, tossing my jacket on the couch as I pass. Sitting down at my desk, I flip open my laptop and get to work. I want to know everything there is to know about London DeLacourt
.

She's only twenty-five. Fuck, she's young. I know everything about her family, or at least for the most part. Her mom is dead and her dad is a low life criminal who she doesn’t have any relationship with, but he’s more than that… a lot more. I check everything from bank accounts, which is only one, to her work history, you name it. I know where she went to school, where she goes now, and what she goes for. I run her address though a property search. The apartment is in her name along with another, Matt Smith. My heart stops.

There’s a man. A friend, a boyfriend, whatever he is. I know she’s not married, but I check anyway, and I don’t find a marriage license. I’m beyond annoyed at this information. Fuck. Of course, there’s a man. Why wouldn’t there be? Who the fuck wouldn’t want that beauty in there bed on a regular basis. I wouldn’t mind her in my bed, but not for longer than it takes me to fuck her good and proper as often as I’d like. She’s proven to be a challenge.

It’s been a long night, and this information only has me thinking too hard. I need to peel myself away from my computer before this turns into something it shouldn’t, but who the fuck am I kidding? It’s already headed down a dysfunctional path. I need to get some sleep.

~~~~~~

Today's going to be hell at work. Long and drawn out with little getting accomplished is what’s on today’s agenda because I didn't sleep for shit last night. I finally fell asleep, but it wasn’t for long. I woke up to a raging hard-on that I took care of as I thought of every kinky thing I wanted to do to London’s body. I'm fucking delusional and screwed up, but I like what I like.

Every little noise from the ping of an email, the swishing of the overhead fan, to the light hum of traffic below grates on my goddamn nerves. The never ending phone calls, emails, and meets provide me with a lovely fucking headache.

By the end of my day, I’m ready to throw myself off my forty-story balcony into the traffic down below. My Friday is a huge fail, which only serves to irritate me more. Pouring myself a drink, I toast to the weekend. I’ll worry about what to do with all my new employees next week.

~~~~~~

My weekend is spent finishing work that I couldn’t bother with on Friday, working out, and I even visit “The Bar,” but not even a naked women tied up underneath me can keep me distracted long enough to get
her
out of my head. I take out all my frustration on the poor little brunette, knowing she’s a kinky bitch who’s more than willing to take whatever I give her. She begs for it.

The only naked woman I want under me is the one who tortures my thoughts. Nothing is helping, not a goddamn thing. I feel like I'm losing my control―a control I value dearly. I won’t give it up, not to anyone. Not even to that beauty.

~~~~~~

Much to my disappointment, my Monday morning is starting the same as it’s been since Friday; sleepless, horny, and frustrated. I sincerely hope my workweek will bring my mind some relief from thoughts of London, although at this point it seems like a long shot. I figure with a little time and keeping myself busy with the new company I just acquired, I can work her out of my system.

Walking through the building to my office, people try to stop me as I pass but I ignore them and keep walking. I have no patience for anyone right now and have nothing to say. My mind is on the verge of self-destructing.

Getting to my office door, I slip in covertly and breathe out a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to kill anyone, that is until I see Victoria, my worthless secretary, perched on my desk like the annoying bird she is. This morning she’s wearing an obscenely short skirt and her blouse is missing a few buttons. I’m not sure if it’s on purpose or she just didn’t have time to go home and change this morning, doing her usual walk of shame. It’s no secret around here about her promiscuity, and she doesn’t try to hide it, either. She’s actually quite proud of it by the way she flaunts it around.

“Good morning, Mr. Marx,” she hums at me. My stomach churns at the thought of dealing with her today. She's attractive in that plastic surgery, new nose kind of way, which is exactly the type of woman I avoid, but others enjoy.

I sit and listen to her ramble on about things I have no interest in, carrying on about meetings and paperwork. These are all things I pay her to do, not come to discuss with me until they’re things that are resolved. I only need to hear about the finished product. Slowly her run down of the weeks schedule dwindles into personal, and that’s her true reason for being in here. She can’t take the hint that I’m in no way interested.

“Victoria!” I snap at her.

Her head pops up, and she smiles, “You called me Victoria.”

“And?” Christ, I’d appreciate it if she hurried this along.

“You usually just call me ‘Hey you’, or you just clear your throat.” Right.

This is obviously what she’s been waiting for―recognition. I watch as her smile slides into a lip-biting smirk. Adjusting her shirt, she runs a hand across her exposed skin and I feel absolutely nothing. She doesn’t seem to comprehend that I don’t want to fuck her or have my dick in her mouth. But London on the other hand…Shit.

“What do you want?”

“Well I wanted to discuss your schedule for the week.” Such bullshit.

“I'm not in the mood, and even if I were, it wouldn’t be with you.”

I can't be around her right now. I vowed to keep the violence away from women, unless it’s what they want, but not with her. Right now she’s testing those limits and not because I wanna fuck her, I just wanna hurt her. “Oh come on, Dante.” She stands up and walks closer to me, swinging her hips, trying to look sexy but she just looks pathetic. Reaching her hands out, she attempts to run them down my chest, but I step back.

“It's Mr. Marx. You’ll do well to remember that or you’ll soon find your ass looking for another job,” I reprimand her, “So is that it?”

“No, Mr. Marx. Cam is here to see you.” She informs me as she backs off and makes her way out of my office.

Sitting down behind my desk, I watch as Cam saunters in. “You’re up early.”

“Out late.” He corrects me. Sometimes I wonder how he ended up being my right hand. Hell, I wonder how he’s still alive after all these years. I was sure someone, most likely a woman, would’ve offed his ass by now.

“So what do you want?” I ask, leaning back into my chair. There’s a reason he’s here. Carmine doesn’t just “show up” anywhere. Well, that’s not exactly true. If there’s money, women, or free drinks, he’s there.

“Marco’s back in town and he’s circling.” I knew it was only a matter of time. The moment I set my eyes on something, the shark swims back into my waters.

“Good, I’ll deal with him…and Cam? Get your fucking feet off my six thousand dollar desk.” I shove his feet off and listen to them hit the ground with a dull thud. No respect, I tell ya.