30. Torin
THIRTY
torin
Through my black-rimmed glasses, the bruised and battered hardcover of Hard Times by Charles Dickens takes me out of my current world and settles me into one that involves just me in an armchair with nothing more.
It is and was until I hear the mutters of a feminine voice through the thick door of the library my stepfather built for me at twelve—when he actually liked me. And why I come to this house every Friday night to eat dinner with him as if it’s a tradition he gives a fuck about is beyond me.
It was only one of two things he kept the same when he divorced my mother and sent her packing with an alimony check that she uses for high-end fashion and pills.
I hear the female voice again, and I know it’s not a maid. They avoid Emilio like the plague and barely speak to him unless absolutely necessary so my interest is piqued. And if he has that dumbass Marissa broad who practically drools after him here, I’m dipping out of this Friday’s dinner.
Rising from my chair and carefully placing my novel back amongst the other books that never get looked at or touched by anyone else but me, I slowly take myself out of the dark decor of bookcases and furniture and step into the foyer. My leg is throbbing from lack of pain meds because I refuse to take them on a regular.
No, I want to feel what that little shitheaded, perfect as fuck, Bay Astor did to me.
And what I’m finally going to do to her.
The normal navy-blue walls greet me under an overly large crystal chandelier and white marbled floors. The smell of fresh roses fills my nostrils which is the second thing Emilio kept was Mom’s rose garden in the backyard.
What isn’t normal is Bay Astor standing next to my dad in a tight black dress that hugs her thick thighs and curvy waist, dipping deep in a V that barely covers her generous tits. That raven-colored hair is straight and long, flowing freely down her body when light blue eyes center in on me as I mindlessly catch myself eye-fucking her as I walk inside what is now dubbed a war zone.
My immediate displeasure makes her cocky, her plush lips quirking into a smirk as Emilio stands idly by in his normal pressed suit, pawning her leather jacket to a maid as I steel myself against the immediate question of what the fuck is she doing here.
“Torin,” my stepfather quips, stealing a glance at me. “This is my daughter, Haven Wildes. She will be joining us for dinner.”
This woman has more balls than I know men.
“There are knives at the table,” I forewarn him, not bothering to hide my annoyance at her being in this house.
I got shot by a female while my dick was getting hard. I have every fucking right to be pissed.
I can feel Emilio’s heavy glower in my direction for my comment, but I don’t give a shit. He’s that solemn, dangerous prick who makes himself appear like he was born from entitlement when he was just some street urchin who dealt cocaine and made himself into something.
There’s nothing wrong with that, but I wish he’d lose the persona because he’s worse when provoked and he’s not that nice of a guy.
I mean, shit, he put a fucking strapped bomb on her boyfriend’s ankle for fuck’s sake and he’s supposed to gain her love that way?
Emilio has obviously lost his touch with loving somebody, because he’s definitely not going to gain the affection of this heartless bitch.
“I’m expecting you to be on your best behavior,” Emilio vouches to me instead of her. “She’s here to spend some time with us and to be officially introduced to the family.”
My face immediately twists. “My brother? Is there another one I don’t know about?”
“You should look into your hearing, son. It’s getting worse.”
I grind my teeth. Ramsey doesn’t give a flying shit about family and meeting people. He’s a fucking psycho for a hard-on for pain and torture. No longer does he give a shit about our mother, already emotionless when it comes to anyone else but himself. I’m surprised Ramsey hasn’t killed Emilio yet and taken his place as dickhead of the year.
“Ah, that’s right. You’re trying to get your daughter to actually like you.” I navigate my focus to her, dripping sex and trouble. “Good luck.”
“Go to your room, Torin.” He waves a dismissive hand at me like a child that he can’t deal with tonight except it’s all the time. “I don’t have time for your fuckin’ attitude, and you’re being a horrible host.”
Yeah, I don’t give a fuck.
Bay and my past is some tortured, push-and-pull shit, and I’m so fucking tired of dealing and still wanting the alluring creature that’s currently still staring at me.
So much so that I could unload a clip in some fucker’s chest just to relieve the stress she rains down on me.
From her sassy-ass little attitude to her violent little fits to those whimsical comebacks that make me want to choke her out.
I’m about done running into this broad just for her to land at my feet. It’s karma rearing her ugly head at me. And Bay is like a damn STD, you enjoyed the ride, but the aftermath blows balls.
Now, she’s a threat.
Go fucking figure. She left one piece of shit for a more powerful one in Levi Wallace.
It was a smart move.
However, this one is not.
When the words Bay Astor came out of Emilio’s mouth last week, I about shit myself. And, little does he know, that we’ve had run-ins before.
“Torin will escort you to the dining room,” Emilio advises flatly. “I’m going to make sure everything is all set.”
Or that’s what I think he says.
My eyes follow him out and my jaw ticks. Ever since he came home, he believes The Landings are his again.
It’s not.
It’s mine.
It’s Cairo’s, Reeve’s, and mine, because he can’t sit still for long enough to run it. He’s been running around the country trying to enlist men to his cause—The Void. Some dumbass group he and Ramsey are trying to scrounge up and expand for when they “takeover” South Shore.
Emilio needs power because, without it, his money is just going to sit there and do shit. Cairo’s dad refuses to hand him over shit and technically, the Forsaken Crew isn’t his. It’d also make sense that he’d get rid of Penn Northcott for his own selfish reasons.
Regardless, I’m tired of being his pawn. The moment he left The Landings and The Forsaken Crew, Cairo, Reeve, and I vetted everyone’s loyalty. We even had them blow up one of Emilio’s warehouses in Newport just to show us if they were going to ride or die by our hands.
Emilio’s pushing a line, and Ramsey believes I’m still ten years old and that he can push and prod me into a temper tantrum.
I’ll give him one.
At the end of a barrel, because just because he’s blood doesn’t mean he’s family.
I feel Bay’s focus on me, and I turn my head, watching her as if she can sense me loathing her presence here.
She loves to fuck with me as much as I like to look at her. I’m obviously not immune to how beautiful she is and even though her mouth gets on my nerves as well as her listening skills, I’d still fuck her into the ground just to know what she feels like from the inside out.
Yet, I don’t want her sinking her claws into Emilio or Ramsey and getting in the way of my plans.
“Hey, Pretty Boy,” she beams with a pep to her step that she did not have to the other day when she shot me. “You gonna stop me on the way home again? I had to go through The Landings to get there.”
I twist my body and walk toward the dining room, feeling her fall into step with me.
“I like your glasses,” she muses on. “You got that hot nerd thing going on.”
Ignoring her, we pass a maid before breaching the spacious dining room and the eight-person table. Ramsey is already inside, muttering something to our father, and I take my normal seat to Emilio’s left at the head of the table.
“You.” Flicking my gaze up, Ramsey’s face just lit up when his matching brown eyes land on Bay. Then they do what mine always seem to do, fall right down within the depths of her flawless body.
“Me,” Bay deadpans, standing her ground on the other side of the table and facing my brother and father like the little South Shore soldier she is.
Emilio unbuttons his suit jacket and takes a seat. “A better meeting than the first one. No guns or accusations being thrown at each other.”
“You ever find those guns, Dad?” He slices his deep blue eyes at me, warning me to shut the fuck up before he remembers those knives at the table.
Ramsey gestures for the table. “Please take a seat, Miss Astor.”
My brows knit at his politeness before a bourbon is immediately placed in front of me. The help is already privy to somehow know when I need it, and Bay plops down right next to me like she knows I don’t want her ass anywhere near me.
Inwardly sighing, I peer up to find Ramsey’s eyes still glued on her, but she keeps those irresistible blue pools on me.
And if I was desperate for attention, maybe it’d give me an ego boost that she didn’t just look at my older brother who’s used to taking everything of mine, using it, then throwing it away for me to worry about.
It’d also bother the shit out of me that he looks interested.
Which can’t be right.
“Can I get you something to drink, Haven?” I don’t register the name right away but find Emilio looking at Bay. “We will have wine served at dinner.”
“Water is fine,” she replies flatly, leaning back and crossing her arms along her chest.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Ramsey vouches slowly, lifting his bourbon and bringing it to his lips. “Can’t say I’d get the pleasure again.”
Bay remains awkwardly silent, and I stare at my older brother like he grew another head.
He doesn’t flirt—if that’s what you’d call this. He intimidates and females seem to like that from him. Or the power he wields around, take your pick.
Bay Astor apparently, though, does not.
“Haven organizes street races,” Emilio states flatly, breaking through the silence. “I believe she races too.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” my brother surmises and clips the end of a Cuban cigar. “My father spoke you up before arriving but did you no justice apparently. You’re quite impressive.”
“And what things have you heard?” She leans forward, placing her elbows on the table, and challenges him to cut the bullshit. “Besides that I’m your stepsister.”
Ramsey doesn’t falter, putting his best behavior on, which means Emilio threatened him too. “You go to college at Oceanview. That you’re working on majoring in occupational therapy, which is fitting due to your father’s unfortunate turn in health. I did hear about the racing, and the dope running from my father, but I also learned that you love street food.”
“Sounds like a background check.”
Ramsey laughs softly. “Can’t blame the guy. Our family has many enemies.”
“Ones you’ve made.”
I reach over and squeeze her thigh, warning her to shut up because I want to eat and not have blood all over the table when I do.
“Depends who you ask,” Ramsey imparts as I subtly remove my palm. “So, choose the right side.”
“Haven will come around in time,” Emilio emits as though he can tell the future. “She’ll see who we are and not what she’s been told.”
“It’s Bay,” she retorts. “And am I going to be forced to these dinners every week?” She plucks my fingers off her leg and drops it gracelessly to the side. “Or do I have a choice?”
Emilio lifts his drink to his lips. “You have your mother’s stubbornness, but let’s just say I always win.”
“Forced,” she leers. “Got it.”
“I’m surprised that you, of all people, aren’t open to something like this,” he goes on. “I hear from Torin that you wanted to end this feud between our towns.”
I never said that.
I said she’s currently fucking Levi Wallace and that this was all a really bad fucking idea.
She readjusts herself in her chair. “Was that before or after he told you that I shot him?”
Christ.
“You must get the violence from me,” Emilio states blandly, taking another long sip of his drink.
“I like to consider them lessons,” the girl next to me claims. “I mean…he took something of mine. And then you strapped a bomb to his leg.”
“I needed your attention.”
“You’re not gonna like how I react.”
Emilio’s jaw twitches, and I’d love to see how he handles this. He wants Bay’s approval for some reason, and it’s not because he’s missing a child. He has Ramsey and I, two male heirs. Sure, we’re related by marriage, but he raised us.
She’s blood, but she’s on the wrong side. There is no bringing her to this one. Her brain is so tainted with hate that it’s past the point of no return. Emilio just needs to accept that.
“You’ll learn to heed what I say is true, Haven,” my father divulges. “If not, this keeps happening. And Torin’s little kidnapping is going to be the least of your problems. I do know all about your sisters after all.”
She begins to rise from the chair, and then thinks against it, placing her cute ass back down.
Emilio steers the conversation as if none of this took place, one of his specialties, while a course of salads is laid out, and that’s when I use the moment of attention not steered on Bay.
“I’m curious…were you looking to die or start a war? Or both?”
“Neither,” she mumbles. “I just want him to fuck off.”
“Yet here you are.”
“Did you not hear what the hell he said? He threatened my sisters, keep up.”
“I told you to leave South Shore.”
“You wanted me to drag my whole family out of their homes to make you sleep better at night?”
“Every action has a consequence, Bay. I won’t forget that.”
“Same.”
I inquire, keeping my eyes on my mixed greens and nowhere else because something stupid might leave my throat.
Like offering her a personal ride on my own cock or some shit.
“How many more times are we gonna fight, Pretty Boy? I’m not an easy opponent and I’m not getting the benefits of make-up sex afterward, so this really is a waste of my time.”
“I’ll let the anticipation kill you,” I quip back at her as she did me before she shot my ass and then jerk my head to the entryway leading back out to the front door. “So do what’s best for you and get lost. As I’ve said, you don’t want to be involved with my dad or brother.”
For your own damn good and mine.
Her neck cranes to look at me. “Can’t.”
I hear that word loud and clear, clutching my fork harder and I know what she’s thinking.
That I’m Emilio’s bitch.
That I follow his orders to the tee on what he says. That I’m such an entitled little prick who had everything handed down to him.
The latter is true.
Up until fifteen when I held a knife up to Emilio’s throat and told him to get fucked. While Emilio was physically abusive to me, he was also mentally. My disability makes him believe I’m some sort of special needs charity case. That I’ll end up being nothing but someone who needs to be told what to do instead of the other way around.
I got an ounce of respect out of him that day. And I also got my ass stomped on the floor by him and his boys.
“What’s it gonna take?” I press, glimpsing over my shoulder just to land on those full, pink lips of hers.
I like that she doesn’t wear a lot of makeup. I like that she doesn’t show fear and if we weren’t in this position, I’d probably not mind her running her mouth so much.
Her voice is sterile when she says, “A hundred grand.”
And my face drops.
Is she fucking serious?
“I can make you disappear for less,” I reply, stabbing a crouton with my fork.
This girl is dangerous with a hidden agenda.
I don’t trust her; therefore, I’ll break her down until she can’t crawl back anymore. Especially since her name has been in Matteo De Leon’s mouth as of late and that fucking prick is on borrowed time right now. I’m not sure yet if Wallace and De Leon are working together or if Matteo is still just running his mouth.
“And I have a whole ocean with your name on it, Pretty Boy. The only reason you’re alive…is because I kept you that way.”
“Did you? How much power do you really hold?”
Bay’s weight pushes into mine and she turns her head as if she’s looking behind us at something. “More than you think.”
Then her tongue darts out to lick my earlobe, smelling of motor oil and lavender, I think, and I fight back a shudder that wants to take over my whole body.
My cock twitches in my jeans, and I push through a suspended exhale that seized up in my chest.
And that’s it.
I don’t know if she spoke any words afterward before she’s pulling away from me again as I force my brain to go back to fully operational.
“Hey, Bay Bay McQueen.” I slice my focus up to see my best friend, Reeve, standing on the other side of the table, staring dreamily at Bay. “It’s been a minute.”
She doesn’t say a word, which pisses me off, because she won’t shut the hell up when I’m around, and I gain his attention for the briefest of seconds.
I nod and it’s all I have to do.
She wants to keep secrets?
I’m the fuckin’ Crypt Keeper and I say there are none when it has to do with me and why the hell a beautiful brunette decided to show the hell up out of nowhere when she wants absolutely nothing to do with Emilio.
Or does she?
Guess we’re about to find out.