Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Azrael
The ride over to my father’s is as solemn as ever. There are no joyous memories in returning to Casa Forte, not a single one. The only glimmer of happiness in this morbid mansion is my sister, Sienna. She’s beautiful, innocent, and kind, and hopelessly in love with our half-brother, Stone.
Of course, there’s no way they can ever be together.
Not only is it deeply forbidden, but Sienna is a pawn in the Mafia world, a true beauty and Mafia princess, a bargaining tool in the empire, and while our father has been fortunate to have two sons and multiple bastards, I regard Sienna as the savior of our family name.
Without her, I literally would not exist. She has kept me alive without even realizing it.
In the bleakest of my days, she has always been the one to shine the brightest, to give me hope when there simply was none, and I’m certain Stone agrees, despite our brotherly feelings being a total contrast.
Pulling at my jacket sleeves, I glance up at the mansion, and the ominous sensation of anxiety washes over me. It took me a while to realize that after visiting here, it takes me days to rid myself of the torment these visits cause.
Normally, I would use a willing body or torture someone deserving, but rather than having either urge, Little Toy’s face flashes into my mind, and all I want to do is hold her and feel the same bliss I experienced after I fucked her so savagely.
But I refuse to think of her any further while I’m here; I don’t want her image being tarnished by this evil. So, banishing thoughts of her, I head up the stone steps and into my childhood hell.
Vector lifts his head from his position at my father’s office door, his brow furrows, and his sharp eyes turn to slits, and I glare back at him.
A flash of yellow brushes past him, and Sienna emerges from the kitchen with a smile as wide as her heart.
“Azrael, I wasn’t expecting you,” she says, beaming.
I remain impassive, as I’ve learned to do so in order to protect myself and those around me, fully aware our relationship is constantly being scrutinized by our enemies.
Over her shoulder, I watch hunger flare in Vector’s eyes, and not for the first time, I make a mental note to push my plans forward to protect my sister.
“I’ve a meeting with Father.”
“Oh.” Her face falls, and I get the familiar twist of a knife in my stomach.
Sienna has been homeschooled, with only socialites as acquaintances.
She admits they’re not friendships, and I understand they’re facilitated by our controlling father, all of them perfectly crafted for her to be what he needs her to be.
“I’ll be at dinner soon,” I tack on, hoping it relieves the sting of my words and the disappointment in her tone.
She plasters on a perfected smile, the beautiful one that hides her misery and sadness, the same one our mothers possessed.
She heads back toward the kitchen, and my heart pounds like a drum when Vector’s eyes follow her.
There’s no way in hell he’s getting anywhere near her. None.
He’s a twisted sadist who most certainly does not have a problem taking anyone without their consent, preferably without it. Man or woman. I’ve been a witness to both over the years.
I take the opportunity to push past him, ignoring the fact that I should knock on my father’s office door before entering.
“Azrael?” he questions—part shock, part anger, as expected. His distaste for my disrespect is clear, yet I’m too angered to care about concealing it.
Thinking quickly on my feet, I utilize my knowledge and bend the truth. “We have a problem.”
He sits forward, a cigar hanging precariously from the tips of his thick fingers. “What is it?”
“I’ve become aware of a bidding war for Sienna’s hand in marriage.” Yes, motherfucker, Vector will never touch a hair on my sister’s head.
His eyes light up. Obviously, all the monster will think about is the dollar signs, not Sienna’s welfare or happiness. Not that our father cares about how she will be treated.
“And?” he says with hope in his black eyes.
“I think we might need to move the wedding forward.” To make sure you don’t promise her to that warped bastard. “But I’ve been thinking, let’s not make Sienna aware. I don’t want to deal with her resistance.” And heartbreak.
His spine bolts straight, and his lips twist. “She won’t resist. I’ll make sure of it.”
I hold my hand up to pacify him. “She’s been well trained. But until I’ve secured the best deal, let’s not add to the uncertainty. I’ll do my best to work quickly.” I’ll make it a fucking priority, as much as it will pain me to hurt two people I care for.
He relaxes back in his chair with a supercilious smile playing on his lips. “I knew she’d be worth a fortune. Beautiful girl like her.”
I nod, though my stomach churns at the thought of what he would like to do to her.
He’s voiced it before when he’s been drunk, and the conversation has plagued me ever since.
“Don wanted a piece of her, but I wouldn’t allow it.
” He’s referring to his best friend, another sick bastard thick in the trafficking world.
“Virgins fetch more,” I say the same words repeated to me over and over for years and years. “Especially well-bred ones,” I add, hoping to throw him off my true agenda.
He nods, a sharklike smile takes over his face and his eyes dance with glee as he stares off toward the door.
Then he snaps his focus back to me, all excitement in his expression evaporated.
“Have you considered my proposal with Larissa?” he asks, and I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding against each other.
He’s insisting on me marrying the pompous bitch whose father is a capo of ours, despite her already fucking half the Mafia and their associates.
Still, my last wife to be, via an arranged marriage, ended her life the night before our nuptials, too terrified to become the wife of the devil.
Hmm, maybe Larissa would end hers too? I scoff to myself.
No such fucking luck. The woman has been desperate to snag me for years.
“No,” I state. “She’s essentially a free whore, and if I wanted one of those, I don’t want a lifelong contract around my neck in order to get it.”
He throws his head back, laughing, and I’m grateful he seems somewhat pacified. Then his gaze lands on mine, and he locks me in. “I hear Czar seems enthralled with a little kitchen whore. He needs to be put back in his place; perhaps Larissa can help with that.”
Jesus, is he planning on marrying them off together now?
“I don’t like him paying the staff too much attention, not when we have quality goods available; besides, the staff say Czar has become obsessed with her.
I want you to deal with it.” He leans forward.
“I don’t like my men telling me my sons have feelings for whores.
Do you understand how weak that makes us look?
” His words remind me that his staff cannot be trusted.
I swallow.
“Yes. I agree.” Though I don’t, I lie with ease and make a note to discuss the risk Czar is creating for both him and the girl.
He flicks his ash onto his desk and spears me with a glare. “So, the girl you took from the auction?”
The act I’m about to implement will be award-winning, and Jensen owes me big time for this, especially given I feel like I’m putting Little Toy on his radar, a radar I have no intention of letting him near.
“I didn’t take a girl from the auction.” A flash of anger sparks in his cold eyes. “I took a girl from the whorehouse.”
“What?” The confusion on his face is perfect.
“You said from the auction. I didn’t take one from the auction; I took one from the whorehouse.” I pour myself a Scotch and take a sip. “She was delivered to my room along with others, and I wanted a new toy, so I took it.” I shrug.
The cogs are turning in his head; he’s probably wondering if she’s the same girl as the one missing from his room. Though he knows damn well I’ll be pissed if he admits to dealing with underage girls on the premises.
“I had reports of you shooting a guard dead.” And there we have it, reports of. The man is informed of everything. Well, almost everything. But the fact I didn’t think to mention the guard has me stumbling to come up with an excuse for his death that tallies with potential witnesses.
My tie is suddenly too tight, and I long to loosen it. “He was chasing after the girl I took.” My heart booms violently in my chest. “She tried to run.” I feign a smirk and take a swig of my drink. “I made sure she won’t be running from me again.”
A laugh rumbles from him. “I’ll be sure to call ’round and test the goods when you’ve finished with it.
” He lifts his glass, and our eyes remain locked.
It’s almost like he’s taunting me, stripping me bare of the indiscretions and reaching inside my chest and pulling out each and every secret or misdeed aimed toward him.
He doesn’t trust me, and I sure as hell don’t trust him.
And I’ve just put Little Toy in his direct line of sight.
I may be the devil, but my creator is far worse.