18. Lev
Chapter 18
Lev
M y back hurts after a long day on the road. I’ve visited nearly half the jewelry store’s vendors, and most of them have seemed amenable to a change in ownership in the near future.
Except for one. A real prick of a sleazeball named Emory Smith. He’s an old-school watch dealer with a deep network of pickers and wholesalers, and he’s the best source for reasonably priced high-end pieces in the whole fucking city.
And when I told him that I might be taking over for my father, he basically laughed in my goddamn face.
I pour myself a vodka when I get home that evening. I’m in a sour fucking mood, and being in this house doesn’t help. There are already little pieces of Carmie all over the place: a floral potholder she left on the counter, a pad of paper sitting on the coffee table with little animal doodles all over the margins, her laptop on the couch covered in stickers.
I hate how defeated she seemed last night, and I can’t even blame her for it. Seeing Alex and Natalya made her realize we’ll never have a relationship like that, and what am I supposed to do? Get down on my knees and tell her that I’ll love her forever?
I’m not even sure I’m capable of that emotion.
But I do know it bothers me when she’s upset. Only I’m not sure how I’m supposed to fix it when I’m the problem.
I stomp around the house feeling bleak and angry before Carmie appears at the stairs, yawning. It looks like she just woke up from a nap, even though it’s nearly five in the evening. Her hair’s slightly messy and her eyes are bleary, and she stretches as she comes into the kitchen.
“I could hear you banging around down here,” she says. I stare as she gets herself a glass of water. She’s in a pair of tights and an oversized t-shirt that still somehow shows off her incredible figure. My pulse thumps thinking about my hands gripping her thick ass.
“I’ll try to be quiet the next time you’re sleeping at dinnertime.”
“I’m pregnant,” she says defensively. “I can’t help it. What’s your problem?”
I soften a touch and force my smile back into place. “Had a rough day. Some vendor prick got under my nerves.”
“Yeah? Who was it?” She leans against the counter, watching me with a frown. This is the most she’s wanted to talk to me since moving in here and I’m guessing she’s a little vulnerable after her nap. Her walls aren’t back in place yet.
“I doubt you know him.”
“My dad’s been in the pawn shop business for, like, fifty years. I grew up around all those people. If he deals in the city, I’ve probably met him.”
“You know Emory Smith?”
She snorts and takes a drink. “Yeah, I know him.”
“Seriously?”
“He’s the luxury watches guy. What’d he do to you?”
I’m not sure I want to get her mixed up in my business, but I’m frustrated and distracted by the way she licks her lips after drinking some of her water.
“Basically told me to go fuck myself when I said I’d be taking over for my father in the near future.”
“Sounds like him. Emory’s a control freak. If it’s not his idea, he doesn’t want to hear it.”
“That’s a problem for me then. He supplies Fed with half our high-end pieces.”
“I can talk to him if you want.” She says it so casually like it’s a totally reasonable thing, and that immediately sets me on guard.
“Why would that help?”
“I don’t know.” Now she’s smiling slightly. This girl’s up to something and I don’t like it. “But I bet he’d listen to me.”
“Why, exactly, would Emory care what you think?”
Her grin is vicious now, and she’s definitely fucking with me. Only I don’t know how. “How about this? If I can change his mind, you get me new fencing gear.”
I raise my eyebrows. I was going to buy her whatever fencing shit she wanted—so that’s an easy deal to make.
“I didn’t realize you were going to take me up on the basement offer.”
“Natalya convinced me. And I figure new, very expensive gear is exactly what I need to really keep me motivated. Do we have a deal?”
“Alright, little fencer. You convince Emory to keep supplying Fed after my father’s deposed, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”
“Perfect. Let me get changed and we’ll go visit him before he leaves his office at eight.” She finishes her water and stalks out.
“How did you know he’s always there until eight?” I call after her, but she doesn’t respond.
I don’t like this. I don’t like it one fucking bit.
Carmie’s got a big, shit-eating grin on her face as I park in front of the office tower downtown where Emory keeps an office, and I really, really don’t like where this is going.
“Something wrong, husband?” she asks sweetly, leaning toward me, pressing her arms together and batting her eyes.
She’s in a low-cut dress that shows off way too much fucking cleavage, and right now she’s pushing her tits together very much on purpose.
“I don’t know what you plan on doing up there, but you better remember that you’re my wife.” I pause and glance down at her chest despite my best efforts. She’s goddamn gorgeous, and I’m instantly half-hard. Shit, get it together . “My very pregnant wife.”
She seems very pleased with herself. “Relax. Emory’s a scuzzy prick. He’ll be too busy staring at my tits to argue.”
“I don’t approve of this plan.”
“You want him to keep on supplying your store with Rolexes? Come on, this dress isn’t even inappropriate. I’d wear it to a freaking funeral.”
My jaw grinds. “A funeral for a porn star, maybe.”
“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous. It’s seven-thirty already. You coming?”
I’d rather go home and find a new watch supplier, but Carmie gets out of the car before I can stop this farce. She strides to the building, and I growl in anger as I get out, feed the meter, and hurry after her.
Emory’s office is on the nineteenth floor. There’s usually a young, pretty receptionist out front, but she must’ve gone home for the night. His waiting room is nice, with black leather chairs and designer art hanging on the walls. Emory’s a lot of things—a prick, a bastard, a cocksucker—but he’s got really good taste. There’s a reason he’s been so successful all these years.
“Excuse me? Emory?” Carmie calls out in the direction of his ajar office door.
The man himself appears, looking annoyed. He’s in his sixties, thin gray hair, a paunch in the middle, sagging jowls, ugly stubble, but his clothes are perfectly tailored and expensive. His shirt’s untucked, and his tie is loose, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath from across the room.
The moment he spots Carmie, his scowl transforms into an enormous smile.
“Carmela Marino,” he says, walking over with his arms spread. “My darling girl, I haven’t seen you in years.”
“Hello, Emory.” She kisses his cheeks and gives him a half hug. I stand there, seething. “I hear you’ve been doing some business with my husband?”
He looks surprised and frowns at me. “You’re married to this one?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” She holds up her ring and wiggles her finger.
Emory squints at it. “Cheaped out on the stone.”
“It’s a perfectly good—” I start, barely concealing my anger, but Carmie interrupts me with a loud laugh and steers Emory into his office.
“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” she says, tossing me a hard look.
Fucking shit, I hate this.
He pours her a drink, which she doesn’t touch while he shows off a bunch of pieces he’d never pull out around me in a million years. All the while she oohs and aahs over his stock, and the prick keeps glancing at her breasts right in front of me. He finishes a glass of whiskey in about five minutes, and Carmie doesn’t waste any time going in for the kill.
“I know you’ve been having a great year, so why are you giving my husband such a hard time?”
Emory laughs and leans back in his chair, hands folded over his gut. “Darling, did he really send you in here to do this negotiating?”
Carmie waves a hand. “He tried to stop me.”
“But you’re a very determined girl, I see.” Emory’s grin is suggestive, and I feel myself lean forward in my chair, tensing.
“Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Emory sighs and waves a hand. “Lev’s fine. I even like him. But I have a deal with his father, and if I start changing terms without even talking to my customers, then that’ll reflect badly on me. All I have is my reputation in this business.”
“I’m his son,” I say, doing my best to keep the anger from my voice.
Carmie cuts me off again by leaning forward. “Surely, your deal is with the store, not with the specific man running it, right?”
Emory hesitates. “Well, the contracts?—”
“They can be drawn up again.” Carmie pouts ever so slightly, and I’m about to lose my fucking mind. “Come on, Emory. Lev’s a good man. You know that.”
He frowns at her, then gets up and comes around the desk. He sits on the edge right in front of my wife and reaches out, snatching her hands up into his. “Listen, Carmela, if this were for you, I’d do it in a heartbeat. You know you’re a beautiful woman.”
She fidgets slightly, seeming uncomfortable by how close he is now. “Right, but I’m asking?—”
“And, darling, you’re married now. With such an ugly ring.” His words are slurring slightly. The drunk bastard’s practically drooling on Carmie’s chest at this point. “I could’ve gotten you a better stone, you know.”
I shove my chair back, unable to stop myself. “That’s enough.”
“Emory, really, I get it, but maybe do me this favor,” Carmie says, laughing, clearly uncomfortable and trying to salvage the situation.
He doesn’t even react to me. His grip tightens on my wife’s wrist. “We can make a deal, Carmela. Just the two of us. What do you think about that?”
“Emory, please let me go.”
“I’m only negotiating the way you want.”
“Emory—”
I storm forward and grab him by the throat. He croaks in shock and releases my wife. She pulls back, leaping from her seat and getting out of the way as I wrench the fucking disrespectful piece of shit from the desk and slam him onto the floor.
“You motherfu—” he starts, but I slam my knee into his neck. He gags, eyes bulging, as I grab his left wrist and hold it tight.
“You touched my wife,” I say very softly as the darkness inside of me feasts. “And now you have to hurt.”
“I don’t?—”
I twist hard. One sharp jerk does it. The wrist breaks and he screams as it goes limp. I push my knee down tighter, choking him and holding him in place, as joy and pleasure fill my chest like cool rushing water.
This is what feeds the monster lurking deep inside of me. Pain, so much fucking pain . I’ve been so good about keeping it locked away and hidden from Carmie, but now it’s time for her to see who I really am.
What I really love.
I twist Emory’s index finger and pull it back until it snaps. He screams, crying now, as I break another finger, delighting in his suffering. I barely feel it when Carmie begins hitting me, and I only stop when she starts pleading.
“ He’s choking! ” she screams and drags at my shoulder. “Lev, you’re going to kill him.”
She’s right. I am going to kill him. He touched my wife right in front of me and made lewd insinuations. And when she told him to let her go, he didn’t instantly pull away.
Now I’m going to make his final moment agony.
“ Please ,” she says, crying as she tries to drag me back. “Please, Lev, don’t do it. Let him go. For me, please, let him go .”
I stare at Carmie. The darkness roars inside of me, begging me to finish the worthless piece of meat. But Carmie’s crying, and she looks so fucking pretty like that, and what’ll happen if I really do murder Emory Smith in his own office? The bratva will cover up most crimes, but I don’t know if Valentin Zeitsev will spend his capital on this.
But most of all, she wants it. That’s enough to break my grip on his wrist. It’s enough for me to stand and release the pressure on his throat.
Emory rolls onto his side, coughing and gagging as he gasps for air.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, reaching out.
She flinches back. There’s fear in her eyes, and I can’t blame her.
“I’m fine. But we should go.”
I shake my head. If she doesn’t want me to touch her, I won’t. That’s not the kind of man I am.
I like pain. And I like to hurt. But not innocents like Carmie.
“Not yet,” I tell her and turn to Emory. He’s trying to drag himself into his chair. I kick him hard in the ribs. He rolls, knocking a statue from a bookshelf. It hits the floor and shatters as I grab his face and shove it down into the glass shards.
“Please,” he moans.
“I’m not going to kill you this time,” I say to him. Blood wells up from tiny cuts in his cheek and forehead. “When I leave this office, you’re going to clean up. You’re going to drive yourself home and get sober. And then you’re going to call me at Fed tomorrow morning to tell me that you’re happy to work with whoever’s running the shop.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do it. I’ll do it, Lev, I’m happy to do it.”
“If you don’t, I’m going to come back, and I won’t bring Carmie with me next time. Do you understand?”
He lets out a wicked sob and closes his eyes. “I understand. Please, Lev.”
I want to keep hurting him. I could break the rest of his fingers, one at a time. Instead, I release his face and turn to my wife.
She’s staring at me, her face pale and her eyes terrified.
I shove my mask back on and smile.
“I think I owe you some new fencing equipment,” I say, feeling happier than I’ve been in a long time as I walk past her to the elevators.