Nineteen
Hawkes
1 week later
I returned home on a cold winter day with Jett in tow. I kept my gaze on the skyline as we flew back, unable to manage the conversation I knew I'd have to have with my best friend.
After all, Paisley had told me my daughter was dead. I needed to honor my promise to Jett and tell him. This would change everything. I'd be on my own. It would be like a repeat of my goddamn prison sentence, except a thousand times worse, because Jett, my brother, had no reason to stay put.
I thought Glasgow's betrayal hurt the most, but to lose Jett, who would walk away willingly, stung even more.
Once we got off the private plane, we drove to our home in silence. Jett and I owned a private property on the outskirts of London. With tall gates that surrounded the property, we had the kind of privacy we needed to run our business.
The driver stopped by the gate, muttering something to the guards, and the gates opened. He drove down the winding driveway, then parked in the circular garage. Jett and I got out, watching as the podium beneath our vehicle lowered the car into the underground parking space, where we kept our cars. Neither of us said a word.
I couldn't stand the tension any longer, so I walked inside the house without waiting for Jett to follow me. I didn't even glance at the maids, who kept their gazes trained on the floor and bowed to me respectfully. A stupid tradition, one that went against everything the Rizzo family believed in. But not anymore. Were we even a family anymore, or was I the only one left?
I wondered whether Jett would change his last name, the one that bound us to one another. I wondered whether Glasgow had changed his. He was never mentioned as Glasgow Rizzo by any of his associates, so I assumed he was done with that part of our brotherhood, too.
I took some time off in my office, and hours later, Jett strolled in without knocking.
"Good," I muttered. "You're finally here."
He glared at me, and I knew full well what was on his mind. I was the one avoiding a conversation. He was about to find out why.
"Sit down." I pointed to the chess table in my office. "Let's play a game."
"Alright." Jett never could say no to beating me. I wasn't the best chess player, but Jett beat everybody. Even Glasgow, which pissed off our dear friend to no end.
I chuckled to myself as I got up, joining him as he set the board.
"Did you enjoy seeing Paisley again?" Jett asked innocently as he placed the figures, not looking at me.
I stiffened. I couldn't answer him. No Rizzo would enjoy seeing a woman in that position.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like it.
That it didn't turn me on.
And I was sure Jett was on to me.
"Were you happy to see our old friend?" I struck back. He could mess with me all he wanted, but my arrows were poisonous, too.
"About as happy as you," Jett said, motioning for me to make a move. I grinned. He always let me start, because his win was always inevitable.
"Have you had any contact with Glasgow?"
"As much as you," Jett repeated, following my probably abysmal first move. "Why, do you miss the old fool?"
"Absolutely not," I muttered.
"I do sometimes." Jett took one of my pawns and leaned back, staring out at the gardens. "I loved what we built together. Until it went to hell, of course. Over her."
"She was carrying my child," I hissed, snatching one of his pawns.
"I've heard the excuse a thousand times," Jett said calmly, making another move, unperturbed. "It's been your sole obsession for the past two decades. Trust me, I know."
"She's my daughter," I muttered, already getting distracted by his constant stealing of my chess figures. "Wouldn't you do the same for yours?"
"That's why I don't have children," Jett said sharply. "It's too big of a risk in this business. I thought we agreed on that too."
The truth was a bitter pill to swallow. I often recalled our agreement on not hurting women. Point one. Point one B... Don't fucking get them pregnant.
Jett's opinion of me, along with Glasgow, finally came crashing back to me, flattening me under an avalanche of finally answered questions.
They left because of Rubi.
"Well," I managed as Jett stared at me, distractedly moving my king. "You don't need to worry about that anymore."
"Check mate."
"Exactly."
"No." Jett grinned, pointing at the board. "Check mate."
"Fuck." I ran my hands through my hair and got up. "Fuck the game."
"I know you're a sore loser, but this is taking it a step too far," Jett laughed.
"You don't fucking follow," I growled, turning to face him again. "You can leave. Rubi... she's dead."
For all accounts and purposes, I thought I'd lost my best friend years ago. But to be fair to Jett, he looked crestfallen as he picked himself up and came closer, landing a heavy palm on my back.
"How sure are you?"
"News straight from the tap," I muttered miserably. "Paisley says she saw Glasgow kill her."
The news of my confession settled heavily on Jett. I knew he was thinking about all the same things I was. Our brotherhood, the family we'd made for one another ourselves. How we'd sworn nothing would break our oath.
In the end, nothing did.
We did.
The silence between us was endless.
I could feel it stretch in front of us for an eternity.
Either I put a stop to this now, or I'd follow my daughter's killer to every circle of hell, and end up burning with him.
Jett's pat on my back was the choice I didn't want to make myself, and I was grateful for it.
"I'll help you," he muttered. " Sulla mia vita , Hawkes."
“ Finché c'è vita c'è speranza ,” I muttered miserably. “While there’s life, there’s hope. But there’s no life anymore.”
“There is,” he insisted. “ La tua vita .”
He didn't need to remind me of the promise we'd made. I embraced him awkwardly, and he returned the gesture.
He walked away and stopped at the door, glancing back at his shoulder.
"Don't forget to celebrate," he muttered.
I glanced at him blankly, then smiled. "Oh."
"Don't think I forgot," Jett grinned. "It's after midnight."
"We're not teenagers, Jett," I managed, though I was moved he remembered after all this time.
"Come on. It wouldn't hurt you to celebrate," he added, hesitating before walking back to me. "I've got four brunettes in the playroom. Why don't you join us?"
"I..."
I was struck for words for the first time in my life.
Once upon a time, I would have been the one organizing birthday parties for my friends. I'd drink, smoke and take a few of the women back to my playroom to show them how much they turned me on. It was easy then. It was far from easy now, and Jett's understanding eyes told me he wouldn't push it.
"Maybe later," I managed, and he nodded, murmuring an obligatory happy birthday before he walked out of my office.
Once I was alone, I couldn't even pour myself a drink. The cold, sobering effect of reality would be easier to bear with an embrace of a bottle. But I needed to feel it.
What Paisley's words had done to me. Destroyed any belief I had left in life. Where was I supposed to go from here?
The answer didn't lay at the bottom of a bottle, but maybe it was in that playroom, with a woman I'd never see again. Just one of those faces in the crowd I'd never be able to pick out again.
I could make myself forget it all.
I'd done it before.
But I couldn't this time.
Guilt settled over me like a dark cloud, reminding me I'd become the thing I'd spent the last two decades resisting. Again.
I grabbed a bottle of tequila off the bar and walked down the hallway. Once I opened the noise-proofed door of the playroom, I was engulfed in a new world.
Candlelight, neon signs everywhere. A long couch wrapped around a stage with stripper poles, several dark-haired girls showing off their skills, wearing absolutely nothing.
My cock didn't even react as I slid onto the couch next to Jett. He didn't say a word, but seemed delighted to see me, embracing me again over the sound of the women giggling and kissing.
It was a show that would turn anyone on.
I wanted to walk out before I even came in, but I forced myself to stay and watch.
The brunettes descended the stage soon, and wrapped themselves around us. I avoided the sweet lips begging me for a kiss, because they reminded me too much of what I'd done to Paisley.
Everything carried her name now. I was even wearing a paisley tie, a messed up tradition I'd never quite given up since she first showed up at Dolce.
A beacon of light signaling her to me. What was the fucking point? We both knew I was the one to condemn her to this fate.
Was her demise inevitable? Was I playing God by pushing her deeper into an inescapable abyss?
"Relax, handsome," one of the nameless women purred in my ear. "I know I turn you on. Look at me..."
I couldn't even bear the thought, so I closed my eyes as she turned my face to hers.
"Awww, are you shy?" she asked softly, pressing her invisible mouth to my stumble. She kissed me hungrily, licking my skin, advancing down my neck while her fingers already worked on unzipping me.
For a second, I was frozen, unable to think. Maybe I should have stayed. Broken my celibacy. Only Jett knew how long it had been for me. It was shameful, laughable. It was something I had to do.
I got up, gently pushing the brunette aside as I fixed my tie. I grinned at Jett who was looking at me accusingly.
"Sorry, got another date," I said and winked at him, and the troubled look in his eyes softened.
My hand shook as I closed the door of the playroom, locking out the sounds of delight coming from the inside. I walked back into my office.
My cock was straining by then. I couldn't bring myself to think about my daughter dying. But I needed something else.
From a secret drawer in my desk, I pulled out Paisley's old, long-forgotten phone. Still good enough for me.
My dirtiest pleasure lay in her photo albums. There were only two pictures I looked at, clearly shot for her lousy boyfriend. She wasn't naked in either one of them.
The first one, she was wearing a see-through white T-shirt, her hand raised to her lips, fingers toying with the bottom one, pulling it down. I groaned, wrapping a palm around my clothed dick as I felt it painfully harden. I could never escape Paisley in these moments, when I felt another woman's touch and quickly shrugged it off.
Many tried, none succeeded.
Only this one - the phantom image of a girl I'd condemned to a faith worse than death. And I relished in it.
I unzipped, pulling out my cock as I stroked it to the thought of biting into Paisley's hardening nipples in the photos. I wanted her there with me, and even though I had the power to make that happen - at Glasgow's yet unnamed price - I would never do it.
I liked her suffering.
I got off on her pain.
No other shame could outdo the feeling of keeping her caged like that.
And nothing would bring me greater pleasure.
My head fell back as I rubbed my load out of my twitching dick. I imagined her now, locked up, vulnerable, wanting only for me.
Paisley Deville was at my mercy, and I was going to let her hurt for as long as I could.
Guilt be damned... I welcomed it, embraced her pain and exhaled my relief.