“Now go before I kill you.” He stares for a few moments before pulling out, backing away from my body. Leaving me feeling more empty than ever.
Slowly he dresses, never taking his eyes off of me. Once fully clothed, he heads towards my balcony. Looking back one last time, we hold eye contact for what feels like hours.
“Until we meet again,” he says before disappearing into the night. My head spins from what we just did and how it’s made me feel. All I know is one thing, I’ll never forget tonight.
Chapter Eight
Lunch With A Side Of Murder
Two weeks have passed since that night, and it still plays on constant rewind in my brain. I remember every explicit detail of our…encounter. I can’t lie and say that I haven’t touched myself to the memory every night when the moon casts its glow across my room. I've left my balcony doors open in hopes he will return. I'm desperate for another taste. It’s pathetic and I hate myself for it. I hate him so much it burns, yet I’m grossly obsessed with recovering the feelings he made me feel that night.
How the fuck. . .no scratch that. . .why the fuck does this always happen to me? I think life is going to be simple. Obtain my mark, kill them, and go home to watch Netflix in bed. Yet here I am—in utter shock at the idea that I crave another round of sex with the enemy. A rivalry built in blood due to decades of murder and betrayal. I would not have met Ghost if it hadn't been for this bloodshed. Our bloodshed. Now the only thing that we share is an oath written in blood. I hate him for getting into my head. I hate him for constantly trying to steal my marks. I especially hate him for fucking me so good that I feel like a meth head going through withdrawal. My phone vibrates, snapping me back to reality.
The ID says unknown as I read the text written on the screen. "Good morning, Love. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to lunch this afternoon, as a thank you?” The French words confuse me momentarily before a realization dawns on me; this is Blake. I haven’t spoken to him since we saw each other at the hospital. The same day Ghost and I…no. I've let him take up far too much of my thoughts since. So much so that I forgot all about the contract between Blake and I.
I shoot back a reply, "Sure. No need to thank me. Knowing I had more balls than the men in the room is enough for me."
Suddenly my phone starts to ring and I bring it to my ear. "Hello?" I ask into the microphone.
"You have a very dirty mouth, Love." I laugh at his words.
"Yeah, you'll get used to it," I retort.
I hear a symphonic chuckle on the other end. "So lunch, you will come, yes?" He asks.
“Yes, when?" I breathe out.
“I'll be at Vincenzo's at twelve thirty. I can send a driver for you." He offers.
“No need, I drive myself.” Letting him know I’m not some washed up mafia princess like the rumors say about me.
“Okay, I look forward to seeing you,” he says in French before hanging up.
I look at the clock and see it is eleven. A thought passes through my mind and I smirk. Best way to get someone out of your head? Ride someone else. It’s only until we take down the Cartel anyways. Best to enjoy the experience to the fullest.
I hop in the shower and get ready for our "date". Once clean, shaved, and moisturized I head to my vanity to apply makeup and do my hair. I decide on a sultry eye look and a half-up bun with waves on the bottom. Inside of my wardrobe I find a skin tight, red silk dress. With spaghetti straps, a loose bust and a low back, this dress is made to make men fall to their knees. I finalize the look with black strappy heels. Perfect. I grab a matching handbag and I'm out the door. Inside my car, I giggle at how my dress matches the red leather interior. I slide on sunglasses and head to my destination.
I pull up to the parking lot and as I get out, the valet falters when I throw my keys to him. I smile and blow him a kiss. I love being a woman. Men are so easy. Add a hot dress while throwing them some attention- they all melt like butter. The host opens the front door for me and I look around for Blake. It takes me about two seconds to find him seated at a table. His attention is on a server with her large bust on full display. She is bent over the table and obnoxiously flirting. I roll my eyes at her desperation.Have some self respect, you should be working.Not flirting with the clientele.I walk towards the table and our eyes meet. He chokes on the whisky he has put to his lips.
His eyes trail my body and I smirk in response. "Fuck, Everly."
"I know," I chuckle while flipping my hair over my shoulder.
My attention turns to the hussy who's giving me a dirty look.
"I'll have a glass of your best Merlot. Cold, with fruit in the glass. None of that garnishing shit-fresh-cut fruit. Thank you." She gives me a stiff smile and heads towards the bar.
"A woman who knows what she likes, what a beautiful thing."
I lean forward and in a low voice say, "Oh, Blake. There's many things I like, just as there are many things I hate. Unfortunately, most don't know which they are until it's too late."
He chuckles just as the server returns with my glass.
"Thank you." I say sweetly as she sets my glass down. I bring the drink to my lips and take a sip. It's perfect.
"I'll have the lunch platter with an extra side of capers. Also, a side of bruschetta. Thank you."
She rolls her eyes subtly and writes down my order. She turns her attention to Blake and gives him a smile. "I'll have the same, thank you." Her smile falters but she writes his order as well.
