Risqué by Elena M. Reyes

33

“Please stop crying, sweetheart. It cuts to see you like this.”

That only makes me cry harder.

Between his disappearing act, my father, and constantly throwing up these last few days…I’ve been a hot mess. My panic is high and my tolerance for stress is at an all-time low. I’m tired and just not myself, but I know it’s not because I’m pregnant. The test Giannis made me take came back negative, and a quick trip to the doctor confirmed it to be anxiety related.

“It’s been a crappy few days, Callum.” I sniff, burrowing my face in his neck and tightening the hold of my legs around his waist. “Very crappy.”

“I’m sorry, Aliana. Truly, I am.” He walks us over to the couch and sits with me wrapped around him. I don’t have plans to let go any time soon, either. “Will you please look at me?”

With a small whine, I pull back and sit up. Meet his soft gaze. “Before you begin, I don’t want specifics. No gruesome details, a gloss over works more than fine for me. All that matters is that you guys saved her and she’s happy.”

“Dominic—”

“Doesn’t he work for Mr. Cancio?”

“Aye. Dirty fuck kidnapped Aurora with the help of her stepmum.”

“Why?” He’s always been a bit creepy. Just like the other man.

“Greed. Power. Corruption.” His shoulder’s shrug, but then again, in his world, all that is normal. “Which is why I’m taking you with me in two weeks. Aurora and London will be back by then, and we’ll head home. For now, I’ll be working from here and flying back every few days to oversee the progress on the Jameson Arms.”

“You don’t need to—”

“Yes, I do,” he cuts me off before giving me a kiss. It’s tender, so soft, and I melt against him. My clothing feels constrictive even though I’m just wearing one of his oversized shirts and some panties, something, he notices and confirms when he lifts the back and grips a cheek in each hand. “Fuck, baby girl. I shouldn’t be trying to—”

It’s my turn to cut him off, and I do by biting his chin. “I’m thankful you helped them, Callum. I can’t be mad at that. Never that.” Another nip, this one to his bottom lip. “I’m more upset by other things that happened while you were gone, things we’ll talk about after.”

“After?” He smirks, but I still see the lingering guilt in his eyes, and I hate it. As much as he dislikes my tears, it hurts to see him down. To me, he’s a hero. End of. “What could we possibly do but talk right now?”

Rising myself slightly, I move my panties aside and show him my bare pussy. Just a small landing strip neatly trimmed above my clit. “You could be stretching me. I want to feel every inch of you buried deep.”

“Are you sure?”

“Nothing makes more sense than reconnecting with you.” It’s the truth. The last few days were horrible, I have so much to tell him, but right now I need this. Need him.

“Want to go to your—”

“No. Right here.” Reaching down, I undo the button of his jeans and lower the zipper. His hips lift and so do mine, and I hover over him, bending a bit at the waist to help him lower his pants. Cock hard and throbbing, Callum grips himself once he’s out, pumping his hands twice while I push my panties aside. “I want you just like this.”

“Then come sit on my cock, beautiful. Lower that warm cunt and squeeze me tight.”

“My pleasure.” Pushing his hand away, I replace it with mine and rub the head along my slit from clit to entrance and back again, twice, and then slip the first few inches inside. Just an inch or two, and then I circle my hips, letting him slip in and out a few times while watching his frustration mount.

His hands clench at his sides. His nostrils flare.

“Aliana,” he warns, lifting his hips, but I follow and evade. Not yet. “Don’t be cruel, love. I’ve missed you too much.”

“You know I love you, Callum.”

“Aye. Just like I breathe for you.”

“Then I want you to know that I’m ready to start my life with you.” Before he can respond, I drop my weight and take him in deep, body flush with his. At once he twitches, throbs, and I close my eyes to savor the moment. “I’ve missed this connection. I can’t go so long without it.”

“Never again. I promise,” Callum grunts, meeting me thrust for slow thrust while his hands grip my asscheeks. Tight grip in each hand. We keep a steady rhythm, his touch controlling my movements while his cock drives in deep from beneath me. “This is my heaven. Where I find peace.”

“I’m yours.” Leaning my forehead against his, I stare into his eyes. Breathe in the delicious scent of his skin while those hands on my skin squeeze and push down harder, my body bouncing slightly. “Always yours.”

“Mine.” It’s a growl. His chest rises and falls faster, as does mine, and I’m teetering on the edge. Almost there. “Let me feel you, beautiful. Fuck, just like that.”

“Oh, my damn.” Every inch of my body tingles; I’m shaking.

“Come.” A command that Callum follows with a sharp smack to my right asscheek and I clench, muscles locking tight, and a cry leaves the back of my throat. I’m caught off guard by the sudden roll of pleasure, how quickly I heat for him, and I’m left gripping his shoulder and bouncing hard when he whispers my name. So low. So soft.

My name is on his tongue as he comes inside me.

Destroying me. It’s not the first time he’s done so, either. And yet, it doesn’t stop me from seeking the feeling again and again.

Becoming a mother doesn’t scare me.

Even if it’s too soon. To be honest, I was disappointed at the negative result.

I want everything with him.

“Dowe really need to come here?” I ask Callum, stepping inside of an elevator I’m all too familiar with. We’re a few floors from my father’s office heading to speak to him, and to be honest, I’d rather the man beside me have done so by himself.

To say he’s furious is an understatement.

He knows about the stunt my father pulled. He knows every word he said.

I’m also done with the games my family plays; always willing to threaten my brothers while risking my life and freedom.

“It is. Trust me.” The elevator opens and we walk through, heading toward a closed door while ignoring his secretary and assistant. He has both; one is a doormat while the other is there to look pretty. One glare from him, though, and both women go mute. “Behind me, sweetheart. I need you to do as I ask and trust me.”

“With my life.” And when he barges in without knocking, I follow a few seconds later, closing the door so we’re not interrupted. “Gentlemen. What a surprise.”

“What’s the meaning of this? Get the...” My father doesn’t finish his sentence, eyes wide when Callum pulls out two large guns, one pointed at his head and the other at who my father called Gaspar. Both watch him with trepidation. Fear.

But it’s the third occupant inside the room who I find amusing at the moment. Rigo Martin sits across from Gaspar, no gun aimed in his direction, and yet, he’s shaking hard enough for his teeth to rattle. He’s pale, looking between my father and the man across from him for help, and nothing like the boisterous, pompous jerk he usually is.

“Aliana, love?”

“Yes.” Dad chokes at Callum’s term of endearment. The severity of the situation is dawning on him.

“Do you want me to kill the governor? Say yes, and I’ll pull the trigger right now.” I don’t answer right away. To be honest, I’ve wished so many times for someone to do just that. To end it all and release me from this burden. “His pathetic life is in your hands.”

“Mi hija, answer him!” Dad yells, and it doesn’t help his case. If anything, it annoys me. “How can you let him do this?”

“You don’t get to speak to her.” And while I decide, my boyfriend looks down at the phone in my hand and nods. “Toss it at the arse on the couch, please.”

Once I do, the man with dark, leering eyes picks it up, grip tight. “This is all a big misunderstanding, Jameson. We’re all friends here.”

“Press play, Flavio. I warned you.”

“Callum, I—”

“Press. Play.”

“I know what you did. I don’t need to—”

“Press play, or it’ll be your brain matter the janitor peels from the ceiling. Your choice.”

In this moment, I see the man everyone fears. The brutal killer and shrewd mob boss.

And yet, I feel no trepidation at his side. Does that make me crazy? Or just as bad?

Flavio, as Callum calls him, hits the button and a clip begins to play. The sound is off, for that I’m thankful, but his expression says it all. He’s horrified. Looks a little sick. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest you walk out and don’t look back. Final warning.” Flavio stands, dropping the old cell phone beside him, and walks toward the door. We step aside, my body covered by Callum’s, but before Flavio can place a hand on the handle, the man beside me clears his throat. “I’m letting you walk out alive because Aliana’s here—you owe your life to her, arsehole. However, you come within a thousand feet of her again and what I did to him will seem like a gentle pat on the back. Understood?”

“I do.”

“Then go and give him a proper burial. He’s been delivered to your home.” Callum’s message is there. He knows where Gaspar lives. The door closes after him, and we turn to look at my father and Rigo who sit as still as statues in opposites sides of the room.

Both guns are on my father, though.

“Your answer, Venus.”

“As much as it would make my life easier, no. The answer is no,” I say and Dad exhales roughly, shoulder slumping in relief. “But not out of love. That, I need to make sure you understand.” My eyes are on the man I no longer see as a father. Not after how easily he threatens, hits, or sells me to save his own skin. Parents should protect and love, two things the man sitting behind a desk is incapable of. “I do this for the two boys you couldn’t care less about. They deserve better than you, an absent father and a vain mother, but I can’t in good conscience be the reason they bury a parent at such a young age.”

“Aliana, you can’t mean that. I’ve always been there.” His indignation is almost amusing. His acting, though, leaves a lot to be desired. “You kids are my life.”

“Bullshit, and we both know that.” Callum walks over to the chairs across from my father and motions for me to sit. His guns are still out but lowered. “You don’t give a bloody fuck about her well-being or happiness, and I can only imagine what your sons put up with. Which is why you’re going to be doing a series of tasks to prove how unselfish you can be…isn’t that right, Governor Rubens?”

“Yes.” He swallows hard before picking up the pen beside a notepad.

“First, you will be sending both to study abroad. You have two choices: London or Sweden.” My eyes widen, a smile curling at my lips. This beautiful man. Christ, I love you. Dad writes it down, his teeth gritting, but I’ll give him brownie points for nodding. “Second, you will end whatever business dealings you have pending with the Gaspar family. I don’t want them near you or the entire Ruben/Martin idiocy. And trust, I will find out if you do.”

“Of course.”

“And lastly…” Callum moves quickly. I don’t see it coming until he slams the butt of the gun on my father’s hand. He does this four times, and only stops because the unmistakable crunch of bone is heard. For his part, the governor bites down hard on his lip and keeps most sounds to a minimum—a low cry here or there while looking at me for help. No part of me wants to. This is his bed. “Lastly, you ever look at her wrong. Put your hands on her. Or use Aliana to do your dirty work again, and I will gut you like the spineless cunt you are. Nothing, and I mean not a bloody fucking thing, will stop me from ripping you open from neck to dick before throwing you in Lake Michigan and watching the fish pick you apart. Nod if you understand.”

He does, and my boyfriend puts his guns away before grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. I don’t say anything. I don’t look back either.

This is closure for me. I’m ready to start a new life.

We’re almost to the door, though, when Callum stops to look at a scared Rigo. “Stay in your lane, Mr. Martin. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and I am everything you heard me to be.”

There’sa certain beauty in life when you’re happy.

Things seem brighter. People appear nicer. And friendships morph and adjust, creating something special.

Like mine and Aurora’s. It’s been a few months since her kidnapping, eloping, and then taking over Boston with Casper by her side. They’re domesticated now, living and working between Chicago and Boston, while plans evolve and their family grows.

For the first time, I can say that she’s living and not just maintaining her mother’s dream.

I’ve been to the grounds where Conte House #2 is being built in Boston, and the area is huge and will easily double the size of Chicago. This one will also have a few things that we don’t have back home; the expansion of an on-site school for the elementary-aged-kids is one of them.

That, in and of itself, will help the anxiety mothers go through when their children are off to class. Older kids understand the situation and will defy the abuser’s attempt to pull them out of school, while the younger one recognizes a parent or someone close to their mother and can be swayed with something as simple as candy.

We’ve seen it. It’s sickening the lengths an abuser will go to in order to hurt someone.

Then, there’s the original women’s home. My second home.

I’ve spent so many years of my life working there, helping in the day-to-day planning, but my heart just isn’t there anymore. London’s is, though. She’s such an amazing woman and has plans to expand the location, too, but I don’t see myself in those plans. Not because they don’t want me to be, but because the moment I felt secure in her reins, I asked for time off.

No return date. No plans to do so at the moment either.

I came to London, and I found my home.

This is where I live and breathe, especially, with my brothers nearby at a school a short car ride from Callum’s penthouse in the city, where we stay most days.

For their part, my parents have left us alone. No news is the best news in my opinion.

“Miss, your order is ready,” an older lady, who has a crush on Callum, taps the counter and I smile. Beside me, Lindsey snickers; she finds the stink eye I’m getting hilarious. I need a new guard. “Do hurry with those, ma’am. Mr. Jameson is very particular about his afternoon cuppa.”

“Of course. Right away.” Grabbing my items, I keep a straight face until we step outside and then I lose it. Laugh so hard that it starts a domino effect we can’t stop. I laugh, she laughs, and it goes round and round until a throat clears behind me.

When I turn around, a sickening feeling turns my stomach.

“Hello, prima.”

“Jorge, what are you doing here?” Beside me Lindsey moves slightly, the glint of her gun visible, but I shake my head when a group of kids who appear to be on a field trip walk by with some nuns. “Please leave.”

“I can’t do that.” He shows his own piece, a heavy caliber revolver. “You’re coming with me. You both are.”

“No. We’re not,” Lindsey hisses, but then stumbles a bit. My head turns and I notice Alicia for the first time. In her hand is a syringe, the end dripping with some kind of liquid. But when my guard loses strength in her legs, she’s caught by two other people. These men I’ve never seen before, but worst of all, the way they crowd around us makes it hard for anyone to notice what’s happening.

They hold her up while I turn horrified eyes at Jorge. “What do you want? What did you inject her with?”

He shrugs uncaringly. “Your mother simply wants to have a word, and she’ll live. A mild sedative never hurt anyone. Besides, your brothers survived it. You all will.”

“My brothers? What the…you bastard!”

The pinch was sudden; I didn’t pay attention to Alicia’s movements. She smiles at me as the sedative begins to work, my legs feeling weak first and then my tongue is heavy while black dots fill my vision. “He is a bastard, Aliana. You’ve always been too stupid to realize what was happening right under your nose.”

“What’s that…?”