To Catch A Rook (All The Queen’s Men #1)

13. Chapter 10 - Aaron

“ A bsolutely not.”

I couldn’t mask the sneer of disgust as I stared through my father to the ornate wooden cabinets behind him; we were locked in a barely civil standoff in the confines of his pretentiously luxurious office. The warmth of rich burgundy curtains and thick oriental rugs could do nothing to temper the ice in my veins.

Father’s frown at my outright disagreement betrayed the simmering rage beneath his skin; the wrath that boiled his blood and blistered his soul was never far from the surface. He was a tempestuous, tortured beast, but Mother—Mother basked in her brutality with a well-tailored cloak of indifference.

They were a dangerous pair and had raised me to be the same. I held one small part of me away from their greedy claws; my heart was still intact, save for the many sins that marked it. Battered, but not broken. But bitter—so very bitter.

The depths they were willing to dig for power was of no surprise; from their Colombian roots to their American dreams, Veronica and Vicente had no qualms crushing their competition and burying whichever bodies got in their way.

I was no different, but this decision crossed a line I wanted no part in. My stomach soured and the acid burned through my chest, but I maintained my neutral mask, refusing to give them an ounce of leverage.

“This is not up for discussion,” he snapped, body taut with tension as he leveled his lethal stare at me. “This family is moving in a different direction, and you will see it through.”

Mother left Father’s side with the slippery grace of a python; her light brown eyes calculating as she walked toward me. I often compared her to the snake in the children’s story The Jungle Book ; in the years since she had first read me the tale, she had honed her charm and beauty into fortified weapons, capturing the meek and the innocent with soft words and snaring smiles.

She stopped in front of me; manicured, soft hands took my own. Brushing my knuckles, she stared up at me with a manipulative pout. “Aaron. This is not up for debate. Your father and I have decided, and the deal is done. It is now your place to carry out the terms.”

“The clubs are mine. ” I savagely bit out the word, the fury of their mutiny creeping outward to sit atop my skin. “You have no authority to change the terms without my consent.”

“ Ahhhh, but we do,” Mother purred and her eyes darkened with malicious intent. “Who pays the tithe, Aaron? Who brokers the agreements? Are we not the real power players in this arrangement? You manage what we’ve built.”

Her thumbs stroked the underside of my palms, the gesture a small reminder of a simpler childhood, before the mantle of this empire had become my destiny. I pulled my hands from her attempted influence and stepped backwards.

In my early twenties, I’d had no interest in the drug trade and chose to manage the brothel network instead. Eventually, I took over the fighting rings and the general gambling. I had taken a puny enterprise and grew it into a flourishing domain of sexual deviancy. Yet, the labyrinth of false legal paperwork was not in my name or my company’s. They owned my empire, and now they were attempting to yank my chains to prove they were my master.

They were not.

“And you believe destroying a partnership with a known ally for a new player is the best move? Antonio will retaliate. You’re putting our most profitable businesses at risk for the hope of something more.”

“We don’t do business on hope .” Father spat the word as if such a thing was the biggest form of blasphemy. “This move will open up additional revenue streams and guarantee our family legacy for generations. Far more than your frivolous decision to merge with that woman .”

Spittle flew out of his mouth in a rare display of his true feelings. His hate for Hillary Lane and all she stood for broke through his controlled facade.

An uneasy twinge wrenched my gut at the thought of these new revenue streams—the Rodriguez underground businesses thrived in sexual deviancy and counterfeit goods, but had drawn the line at weapons and unwilling whores —which could only mean that Alejandro Alvarez had promised them a share in the profits of one—or both.

My merger with Lane Enterprises had been a calculated move of my own. The seeds had been planted for my family defection years before when I first became the majority shareholder for our largest company.

To the public eye, it was a mutual decision by all parties to increase our stock value and secure our business interests, but my parents had vehemently been in disagreement. They forced Charles to call the meeting behind Hillary’s back, anticipating she would pull out of the arrangement all together.

They didn’t know Mi Reina as I did. Her loyalty didn’t break or bend from just any shift of the breeze, but I knew I would have to tread carefully to maintain it from now on.

My father wanted me to back down, to agree with his sentiments. I had no intentions of doing such a thing. I had promised loyalty, and I would give it.

I leveled the heat of his stare with the icy disinterest in my own.

“That woman is a business associate whom I respect. The merger is done and my company will move forward with she and I as the leaders of the next generation. Do not insult my intelligence again.”

His fists tightened and the vein in his jaw ticked as he ground his teeth shut, but he said nothing in return. I moved on, unwilling to linger on this father-son dance for dominance; not with the unsettling topic of discussion.

“And who will broker this departure? Who has the pleasure of telling Antonio you will pass the sizable tithe to his rival? Have you secured their coffin?”

Mother’s eyes darkened as she placed a placating hand on my arm; her sinister smirk revealed the true tonto in the room: me.

“ It is the duty of the true Rodriguez leader, no?” Her voice was quiet, the sultry pitch strategically hypnotic, but her words were as sharp as her fangs. “ Your company is moving forward with a new partner. Who better to share the news?”

Their intentions immediately revealed, I cursed myself for not seeing their plan sooner. The King and Queen of the Rodriguez line were making their moves. Because I would not willingly bend the knee, they would force me to the ground. A pawn to carry out their agenda. My life was of no consequence.

The decision further enforced what I had known all along. I was an heir, not a son. A subject, not a leader. Their displeasure at my actions required punishment. Their confidence in the decision to defect from a long-standing relationship meant they were willing to pay the price.

Even if that price was me.

A somber detachment flowed through me as if it had always been there; my realization set me free from the wanting wisps of a genuine family.

“Consider it done. When I return from the dead, know that you will be the first I kill.”

Mother cocked her head and her lips turned down at my outburst, a show of disappointment. Father had the audacity to snort, his hubris on full display now that there were no lies between us.

I allowed a small morsel of my darkness through to the surface of my departing smile. Then I turned on my heel and stalked out of the room, my strides strong and even despite the numbness seeping through my heart to my skin.

Antonio would surely kill me. If not delivering the news, through some demonic means after the fact—the man’s reputation for vengeance had its own tales of legend.

I would have to rely on my own allies, though the one I had in mind tasted like ash on my tongue.

The enemy of my enemy was my friend. I would have to fight the urge to shoot him myself.

My fists pounded against the fortified glass of the condo building, although the force behind my swings was rapidly losing steam.

It was late, after midnight surely, and the downtown core of Carlisle was deafeningly still, save for the dull thumps of my palm against the metal frame.

“For fuck’s sakes, Aaron!”

Mi Reina’s voice filtered through the exterior speakers and infiltrated the stormy sea in my head. A jarring buzzing cut through my senses as the door swung open in front of me.

I had messaged her beforehand to tell her I was coming. I frowned and pushed my way through the glass barrier. It felt like moving through liquid lead, trying to remember if I had sent a message. Perhaps I asked Jacques to send the message.

Jacques, my driver, had dropped me off minutes ago to leave me to my own devices, but he hovered around the corner in the G-Wagon should I need him.

Jacques was loyal. Hillary was loyal. Beyond that, I couldn’t be certain.

My feet carried me to the gold-embossed elevator; I could feel her eyes on me as I propelled to the 48 th floor to her penthouse; the security feeds broadcast my state for her to scrutinize. She had one of the best systems in the country; I would know. My contractor had installed them for her.

After my parents— should I even call them that anymore? —had sent me off to face my fate, I drank many generous servings of bourbon in my study before Jacques took m e to douse my pain at Club 7. My usual attendee tried to coax me to life, but my body was not willing to escape into the comfort of her cunt. I left with a soft cock and a hardened resolve.

My addled brain had convinced me I needed the touch of a real woman, someone who had tasted my darkness and shared the bitter notes of its flavor. As the doors opened into the foyer of her penthouse, my mind betrayed me with second thoughts.

“What in the fuck are you doing here?”

The beautiful woman strode into the entrance to her home with a fierce frown, the blue in her eyes muted by the dim light. A fuchsia silk robe kissed the tops of her shoulders and draped across her upper arms. Open, it revealed the light blue silk of a cami and shorts sleep set.

Her long blonde hair was up in a high ponytail, and her makeup less face was radiant, despite the violence that filled her features.

“ Mi Reina ,” I rasped, moving toward her on staggering legs.

She stepped back, out of the way of my incoming embrace. “Aaron,” she repeated, sounding more exasperated than angry, “what are you doing here? It’s two o’clock!”

“I didn’t call you?” I cocked my head in confusion; surely, I had let her know I was on my way. I stilled two feet from the heat of her body, my limbs begging to reach out and touch her—to caress her exposed skin with my lips and mark her as mine.

“I don’t answer calls at two a.m., Aaron. I have people for that.” She folded her arms across her small chest and her pixie nose wrinkled in distaste. “You smell like the brothel. Please tell me I am not your sloppy seconds tonight.”

My head bobbed violently. I hadn’t entered the woman; my cock wouldn’t fulfill my desperate wishes of escape, and had brought me to her home instead.

Hillary would always be my first choice, but she had never chosen me. So, I had people to take her place to satisfy my base urges as a man, but I couldn’t bring myself to date a woman, to spend my time with someone and pretend I had any interest in sharing what remained of my soul.

My gaze wandered to the softness of her curves, the rippled outline of her nipples beneath the smooth fabric. My cock stirred to life, finding the woman it truly desired right in front of me.

“No.” I rolled the word with finality off my tongue as I moved closer into her orbit. “I needed to see you.”

She stared up to meet my gaze, the familiar, velvet sky-blue of her eyes now a shadowed navy, but not shadowed enough to hide how she felt for me. How she could feel the pull of me too.

My palm caressed her cheek, tracing the soft outline of her jaw before holding her in place by the chin to bring my lips to hover over hers. I licked at the seam of her pouty mouth I loved to challenge, and tasted the sweetness of mint toothpaste before plundering her heat with flicks of my tongue.

Her lips parted on a gasp as I forced her to give me what I was so desperate for. My hands roamed to her hips. I lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around me, pressing my growing shaft into the apex of her thighs and grinding her clit against it. I shifted our combined weight to brace against the wall and thrust my hips upward with each nip of my teeth against her swelling lips.

Wetness seeped through her shorts and onto the seam of my zipper; I peeled one hand from my grip on her waist to unbutton my pants and free my aching cock from my briefs. Franti cally rubbing the swollen head against the dampened silk fabric, I shuddered at the sensation. The movement gave just enough friction to rocket tingles up my spine.

I relished a collar, the illusion of relinquishing control while I still held every portion of power, but tonight, I wanted to abandon control all together and fuck her like she was mine to own.

I wanted to brutalize her body with pleasure and pull orgasm after orgasm from her body with my cock so hard inside her I ripped her apart with my cum.

Her pitchy gasps and wanton moans spurred me on. The fingers of my other hand trailed along the inside of her thigh until I pushed the impeding fabric out of my way and plunged my desperate cock into the unholy warmth of her cunt.

“Stop.”

My groan reverberated through our bodies. I stilled at the forceful tone, seeking explanation.

“I’m not having unprotected sex with you if you’re sleeping with your employees, Aaron. And you’re drunk. Let me down.”

I slapped my palm against the wallpapered surface in frustration. But I did as she asked. My cock jutted out in front of me like a primed weapon as I stepped back.

“I’ll wear a condom, then,” I said in acquiescence. I hated condoms, but so in need of release in the moment, I would do whatever she desired.

“No.”

The word was uttered not as my lover for the evening, but as the commander of a tightly run ship. The heat in her stare dissolved into a tired wariness, and she deftly tucked my cock back into my jeans. Despite the dramatic change in atmosphere, it hadn’t deflated in the least.

“ Mi Reina, I need …” I trailed off, my mind returning to its previously cloudy state, unsure what to say. I needed her beautifu l body? Her splintered soul? Her demons to blend with mine, so we may submit to them together?

Hillary released a long sigh and beckoned me through the dark hallway beyond the entry. “Come, you can sleep it off here.”

She brought me to a private suite on the other side of her home. Its windows were covered with dark curtains to block the cityscape below. She turned on a delicate crystal lamp and pointed to the armoire across the room.

“An extra set of pajamas are in there. They should fit you.” She nodded toward the ensuite bath to our left. “Toothbrushes are underneath the sink.”

I reached for her and caught her hand to pull her into my embrace. “I need you in the morning. You are always my first pick, Mi Reina. ”

A sad smile flickered across her lips so quickly it was barely there. “You’ll be gone before I wake up. And we both know that’s not true.”

She pressed up on her tiptoes for the barest of goodnight kisses, before swiftly leaving the room and closing the door softly behind her.

I struggled out of my clothing as the weight of my day and exhaustion of my night finally seeped through my skin and into my bones. With a quick message on my phone, I sent Jacques home, determined to have breakfast with Hillary in the morning before my busy day.

I would demonstrate my loyalty before succumbing to my death.

It was the last thought in my addled mind before I drifted into dreamless sleep. When I awoke hours later to the rising sun beyond the curtains, I quickly pulled on my stale clothing with a wrinkle of distaste, but a renewed sense of purpose guiding my movements.

My footsteps were light across the tiled great room separating the two sides of her penthouse. I strode to the famili ar bedroom, pausing only briefly before slipping through the cracked door.

Mi Reina lay splayed on the California King before me, a dainty ornament amongst the myriad of cushions and bedding. Her pink silk eye mask engulfed my favorite part of her face, and large powder blue headphones covered her ears. The muffled sound of static noise broke through the soft releases of breath that escaped from the pouty lips I loved to kiss.

I took her in, the vision of her peacefully asleep a stark contrast to her authoritative, wakeful presence. How I wanted to crawl in beside her and cradle her in my arms, to brush the tendrils of silky hair away from the crest of her cheeks.

It would be cruel of me to give in to my temptation, breaking her out of her few moments of peace. I slipped out of her room and padded toward the elevator back down to the dark realities of what was to come.

I messaged my private driving service on the way down, allowing Jacques a few more hours of sleep of his own.

My heart was laden with sadness as I met her expectations, leaving her to wake up alone. Should I live through my next steps, I vowed to live up to every promise I’d ever uttered.

My tattered soul would be hers on a platter, but she would have to share it with the devil himself.