The Accardi Twins: A Mafia Romance Duet

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Caleb

“ N o.” I shake my head. “There must be some mix-up. I always ask women how old they are and where they work, and I never frequent college bars or clubs.” I did that for her after she asked it of me. It was just before she left for NYU. I can still recall the conversation and the longing in her eyes and pain lingering behind her words. I remember feeling like a piece of shit and wishing I could be enough for her.

“There’s no mix-up!” she yells, clenching and unclenching her hands. “She sent me a video.” She lowers her eyes to her lap. “I saw you very clearly.” Her voice turns meek, her words laced with hurt. “Gwyneth was riding you while Susie was…she was sitting on your face and your…your fingers were inside Cara.”

“Lili.” I move right down next to her. “Please look at me.”

“I can’t,” she whispers.

Gently, I tilt her face up with two fingers under her chin. Tears glisten in her eyes and her cheeks are flushed. “Gwyneth is the girl you mentioned to me last year, right? The one you said was a bitch? I wanted to handle her, but you made me swear not to intervene. I haven’t forgotten her name, and I would never fuck anyone named Gwyneth on the off chance it was the same girl.” I press my free hand to my heart. “I swear it. There must be some other explanation.”

“There isn’t, Caleb. I know what I saw.”

“Show me the video.”

A tear rolls down her face as she cranks out a bitter laugh. “Why on earth would you think I’d keep something like that?” More tears flow down her face, and pressure sits on my chest. “It hurt so much.” Pain is etched upon her beautiful face as she looks out the window. “She cornered me and gave me a blow-by-blow account of their night with you, even explaining how Joshua showed up and Susie called him your clone and wanted him to join in.”

Horror crawls over me as that triggers a memory. “Show me what she looks like.”

“Give me your phone.” She quickly wipes the tears streaming down her face with her fingers before holding out her palm.

I unlock my cell and hand it over. Tension bleeds into the air as she types away. Hair curtains her face in soft waves, and my fingers twitch with an urge to touch the silky strands—a completely alien urge for me. The only time I touch a woman’s hair is when I’m fisting it as I’m plowing into her from behind.

“There.” Her face contorts into an angry grimace as she thrusts the cell at me.

All the blood drains from my face as I stare at the pixie-haired woman on the screen.

“That’s Gwyn.” She swipes her finger to the left. “That’s Susie, and this bitch is Cara.” She swipes again, showing a picture of the redhead.

I remember them, but it’s a little fuzzy. Delving into the depths of my memory, I try to recall the exact circumstances. The pixie slut was the one to approach me after the fashion show. Of that, I’m sure. I also remember the IDs all three were wearing confirming they were a buyer, a stylist, and a publicist from a leading global store chain. Pretty sure those names weren’t their real names. It’s not like I’d ever forget the name Gwyneth. Clearly, they stole the IDs or manufactured them, and it’s not like I was going to verify their references. My twin is the one who used to make his fuck buddies sign contracts and provide documentation. That’s never been my style, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the ass in a major way.

I’m opening my mouth to proclaim my innocence and conduct damage control when I falter. Alesso’s words return to haunt me. I swallow thickly over the lump in my throat as acid churns in my gut.

This is the perfect opportunity to make her hate me forever.

Am I selfless enough to set her free?

Pain obliterates me on the inside as a startling realization dawns on me.

I think I love her.

I think I have for years.

“Well?” Her cutting tone drags me back to the moment. “Do you remember the skank now?” She glares at me while trying to hide her hurt.

If I do this, there will be no coming back from it.

She will hate me for eternity.

But I don’t see how I have any other choice. I could never be good enough for a woman like Elisa Salerno. She wants rainbows and unicorns, and I’m darkness personified. She craves a committed relationship, and I move from one casual encounter to the next without looking back. Even if I wanted to try with her, I have no clue how to do it, and I’d probably only end up hurting her and disappointing myself.

No. This is the only way.

I force a smirk on my face, already hating myself for what I’m about to do. “Damn straight.” My smirk grows wider, and I die a little inside as abject pain shimmers in her glassy eyes. “That was a wild night,” I lie. It was actually some of the worst sex I’ve ever had. “I wasn’t aware she was a college student, and I’m not sure I even got her name. But yeah. My bad.” I hold up my hands and grin like it’s not a big deal and I’m not just crushing her heart all over again. “I did fuck her. I fucked all of them. Multiple times. In multiple positions. I even?—”

“Shut up!” she roars, covering my mouth with her hand as more tears course down her face.

Bile crawls up my throat, and I’m disgusted with myself. It doesn’t even feel like the right thing to do, but it’s done now. There is no coming back from it.

“Get out,” she sobs, removing her hand. “Get out of my house and out of my life.” She climbs to her feet and her lower lip wobbles. “You are dead to me, Caleb. I never want to see you again.”

I hang my head in shame as she races out of the sunroom crying and try to convince myself I haven’t just made a terrible mistake.

“Hey, sexy.” The stool beside me screeches as someone hops up onto it, sliding their warm body against mine.

“Not interested,” I snap, pouring more Macallan into my glass. After my first few whiskies, I told the bartender to give me the bottle, and I’ve lost count of how much I’ve drank by now. Enough to make me drunk, but I’m still way too conscious for my liking. I want to blot it all out. Those three lying sluts and my Lili. My sweet, adorable Lili. The woman who wants to shove my balls in a meatgrinder and pulverize them. Can’t say I’d blame her.

“I’ve been watching you,” the woman purrs, placing her hand on my arm. “Whatever you’re drinking to forget isn’t working. I can help. I bet fucking it out of your system will do the trick.”

I snort out a laugh. Why does she think I came to Club H in the first place? That had been my initial plan. To fuck my way through the memory of Lili’s face when I hurt her so cruelly. Until I showed up here and the thought of touching any woman sickened me. I was propositioned plenty of times, but I turned them all down. Even watching the kinky shit going down in the orgy room didn’t get my juices flowing. My dick is like a lump of Jell-O, flopping from side to side with nothing stirring. Which is why this bitch needs to fuck the hell off. I couldn’t fuck her even if I wanted to, which I don’t. “Don’t pretend like you know me or know what I need or want because you don’t,” I drawl.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

That statement has me whipping my head to face her. Relief shuttles through me. For a second there, I was terrified it was one of those lying bitches. In my current mood, if I see any of them, I’m likely to shoot them on the spot. They used me to hurt Lili, and I am going to make them pay.

“Caleb?” The dark-haired woman touches my face. “Do you remember me?”

“Nope.” I slap her hand away, only for her to drive it between my legs. She wastes no time stroking me through my jeans.

“Remember me now?” She wets her lips in what I’m sure she thinks is a provocative manner, but it does nothing for me. Same with her ministrations between my legs. My dick is limp with zero interest in anything sex related.

I might need a doctor.

“I was visiting the city last year on business, and I came here with a couple of friends. You fucked all of us, but tonight, I’m hoping for a solo special.” She waggles her brows and thrusts her enlarged fake chest forward as if that will change my mind.

Removing her hand from my groin, I thrust it back at her and snarl, “Fuck off. My dick is allergic to your touch.”

“You weren’t allergic the last time.”

“My dick obviously wised up,” I say before ignoring her and going back to my drink.

“You can’t just ignore me! I have come here every night this week hoping to see you.”

“Not my problem.” I wave a dismissive hand in her direction, already done with this convo.

“You’re a complete prick, and I’m making a formal complaint to the owner,” she snaps, the legs of the stool screeching across the floor as she climbs down.

“Funny, I don’t remember any rule that states assholery is grounds for being written up.”

“Club rules are to be respectful to other members, and you’ve totally disrespected me!” she shrieks.

“You’re not even a member,” I say without looking at her. I swirl the amber-colored liquid in my glass, wishing it would take effect and numb all thoughts in my brain. I turn and smirk. “And I rejected you, sweetheart. It’s not the same thing. Perhaps you should spend your nights reading the dictionary instead of frequenting sex clubs.”

Her nostrils flare. “You are such a jerk.”

“Never pretended to be anything else.”

“I’m going to report you right now.”

I chuckle. “You do that, babe. I’m sure my uncle will get a kick out of it.”

Her brow puckers. “Your uncle?”

“I’m related to Bennett Mazzone, but be my guest. Write me up. I don’t give a shit.”

She finally storms off, muttering expletives under her breath.

“Making new friends?” Cristian jokes, sliding onto the stool the woman just vacated.

“What are you doing here?” Cristian is currently in a committed relationship, and he hasn’t darkened the doors of Club H in months.

“Rafael called me.”

I turn and glare at the bartender. He shrugs and raises his palms. He’s lucky we have to leave weapons at the front door.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to drown yourself in scotch?” my friend and fellow don asks.

“My dick is broken,” I blurt before draining my drink and reaching for the bottle.

“What?” Cristian grins.

“It’s not funny. I haven’t had sex in weeks, and my dick has shown zero interest tonight in anything or anyone.”

“If you’ve drunk this much,” he says, eyeing the half-empty bottle. “I’m not surprised.”

“I think I screwed up,” I mumble, resting my head on the counter as sudden exhaustion washes over me.

“Let’s get you home, buddy, and you can tell me all about it.”