Wicked Liar by Faith Summers

Chapter Nine

Dominic

The lights switch on in Candace's apartment.

Good. She’s fucking back. It's about fucking time.

Gravel crunches under the soles of my shoes as I bolt to my feet, my binoculars in hand.

I hold up the binoculars, zooming in closer so I can see her better when she comes into view by the living room window.

How sad am I? And what the hell have I become?

After that fruitless conversation we had earlier, I came here. Like some dumb fucker, I came here to sit and wait for her to come back from her date.

It’s almost laughable and would be if it wasn’t fucking pitiful.

I figured out that the building to the left would allow me a better view of the other rooms in her apartment. My previous post just gave me access to her kitchen.

This spot here is still concealed and far enough away that she would never believe anyone could be watching her.

I thought I’d wait to see if she returned because the thought of her spending the night with Jacques Belmont riled me up the wrong fucking way.

Now she’s home, the thought hits me she could have still slept with him. Coming home, and getting back early doesn’t mean shit. My girl could have just been the first woman on his menu for the evening. I don't know the prick, but they're all the same. Money equals power and power is collateral, speaking any language you want.

Fuck.

The fucking thought makes me curse myself for not having Cory or someone follow her.

That would have been all I’d need to tick the box for the crazy stalker I’m fast becoming.

The other night when I thought of myself as a stalker, I didn’t actually mean it. I didn’t start this to be some fucked up, perverted ritual, but look at me. I feel like I’ve reached a new low. A new level of desperation I never thought a man like me could reach. I also doubt this was what Tristan meant by trying.

Usually, if I want something, I take it. It doesn't matter if it's a woman or a thing.

I’m the conqueror, pure and simple.

But there’s a chink in my armor. A chink that makes Candace Ricci the exception to every rule in the book no matter who the book belongs to or who wrote it with the accompanying rules.

The chink is this: my heart.

I can be a ruthless bastard when I want to be and be as merciless as my brothers but fuck, unlike them my heart is a force on its own. I try to control it with the appearance of nonchalance, but people aren’t stupid.

My father, for one, was not.

When Pa decided to hand over the business and retire, he gave his four sons a chance to be boss of the famiglia. Being the boss of the family isn’t about power or greed. It’s a balance of everything.

That's why Massimo was chosen.

Me on the other hand… no, and I was never cut up about it. I think my father saw qualities in each of us he never spoke of.   

When it came to me, he knew my heart would be my blessing and my curse.

The heart is a powerful thing. Let the wrong people see it and it could ruin you. Allow yourself to feel it too much and it will overpower you. That means when you lose control of a situation, it makes you crazy.

That’s what happened to me.

My name is not one that is associated with weakness or helplessness. When I can't gain back control, I do dumb shit like what I'm doing now.

It's called being volatile. Fucking unpredictable, and unstable. So when things spiraled beyond anyone's control, it made me crack.

I'm watching Candace now, and I'm pissed at myself and the situation I've created. This shit isn't to do with enemies or any of the fucked-up stuff we've encountered over the years. It's about me. It's about us. Me and her.

I knew it wouldn't be easy seeing her again, but fuck, this is hard.

Candace sets her purse down and leans against the wall. Resting her head back, she closes her eyes and that luscious hair I want to touch runs down her arms.

What is she thinking?

Of him?

Of me?

I used to be able to tell, now I don’t know, and it serves me right. Perfect punishment. How dare I think I could have it all? I can’t.

I wanted to fix myself and clean up. Stop using drugs and putting people I love in danger.

No matter what anyone tells me, I know I had to leave home, simply because I was on a self-destructive mission that would have killed me, and I nearly killed her. No one will know about the mask of pretense I wore daily, pretending I was fine, and I was the Dominic they were all used to. The guy who could get anything done.

My decision to leave was a difficult one, and this is the price I paid.

I wish like fuck I could march right over to her and find some magical way of fixing us.

Instead, I have that fucked up out of control feeling again that stems from not being able to have my own handle on the shit that keeps hitting the fucking fan.

I can’t push when it comes to Candace, but it’s in my nature to push, so I’m screwed.

What I want is for her to talk to me. I want to argue. I want to fight. I want to do something more than the nothing we’re doing because it’s driving me fucking crazy.

That damn night I shot her is stuck in my head. It’s the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I finally fall asleep at night.

Every night I try to save her. In the seven hundred and sixty nights I’ve spent away, I’ve thought of seven hundred and sixty different ways of saving her.

My imaginary attempts haven’t stopped in the two nights I’ve spent at home, and I doubt tonight will be any different.

I keep going back to that moment when the bullet left the gun, then realizing that wasn’t the fucking problem. The point at which I needed to return was where I’d taken too much drugs. More than the usual dose.

That night I’d found myself looking at pictures of my father, then the grief took me hard. I sought solace in a stash of cocaine. I knew the moment I'd taken too much. It screwed with my mind within seconds. I started mouthing off about shit and shooting up the place with Massimo, Tristan, Candace, and Isabella right there in the room. A bullet ricocheted off the wall and hit Candace. That’s what happened.

I can just imagine how her father turned in his grave when the bullet struck her. At that moment I heard the caution he gave me, loud and clear. The caution and reminder of who I was, and who he didn't want his daughter to end up with.

The horror of that memory will forever haunt me. Especially after all she'd been through with her parents. She survived death the night they died, and I almost finished the job.

I was fully prepared to go to jail, but when the cops got involved, she insisted on not pressing charges because it was an accident.

Because of who I am, the cops would have had a field day. They've been looking to put me behind bars for years. All my hacking abilities and skills to make shit shine haven't gone unnoticed. They just don't have anything they can pin on my ass that will stick. I would have gone to jail though for Candace because I deserved it.

I’m pulled from the darkness of the memories when she opens her eyes and pushes away from the wall.

She sets her bag down on the floor, kicks off her shoes, and slides the zipper down the side of her dress.

When she takes the stairs, and the dress slips down her body, my cock hardens.

As she steps out of the silky fabric leaving just her bra and thong, I wonder if I’m seriously going to stand here and continue watching.

When she turns and I glimpse her perfect ass in that lacy black thong, I know there’s no point questioning what I will and won’t do. There’s nothing honorable about me anymore.

I won’t pretend to be something I’m not, and while I have a heart, it doesn’t mean it’s not dark. It doesn’t mean the coldness that has entered me will stop the arousal that’s clawing through me for a woman I want to fuck and can’t.

I don’t care how I look. Right now, I’d burn this fucking city to the ground for this moment.

She undoes the clasp on her bra and pushes the straps down her arms, unleashing the most perfect pair of tits I’ve ever seen in my life. The sight of them bouncing as she walks has my fucking dick so hard, I already know the only release I'll get is within the granite walls of my shower.

She throws her clothes to the side and steps out of her thong, revealing her pretty pussy I remember claiming over and over again. Apart from the thin strip of hair confirming she’s a natural blond, she’s clean-shaven and smooth.

Fuck me. A goddess is what she is. And this scene here with her standing in her apartment in perfect innocence completely oblivious to my evil watchful eyes is exactly what makes me the devil and her the angel.

Those tits jiggle and the tips of her nipples look like diamond peaks when she bends down to pick up her thong. Turning, she gives me another view of her lush ass and I grit my teeth when she walks away, disappearing into the ensuite bathroom.

I can’t see inside there, yet I must continue staring for a good five minutes, standing there like an idiot. It's only then I realize all I’m looking at are the white walls of her bedroom.

Lowering my binoculars, I shake my head at myself and look down at the fucking tent my dick is pitching against my pants. I swear that’s the only thing that makes me leave.

I get home fifteen minutes later, get under a cold shower, and jerk off. One more thing to add to my ever-growing list of shit that’s screwing with me. I haven’t fucked a woman since her and fuck knows I’ve had enough chances. One after another threw themselves at me, but I chose to live like a fucking priest. I couldn’t touch any of them because they weren’t her. Not Candace Ricci. My angel.

As such, I’ve found myself in many cold showers jerking off at the memory of the night when I had the one woman I wanted and never thought I could have.

Nothing will change that. Nothing can.