Chapter Eighteen
FINALLY, FINALLY I have heard my Surry’s voice after so long. That little cunt better get the fuck off that island. I am ready to take the throne. I will be the head of both the Irish and the Russian Mafia. Nobody will be able to stop me.
“She’s comin’,” I say to my second. That’s what I call him—never cared to learn his name.
He grunts his acknowledgment before adding, “what must we do to prepare for her arrival?”
“Go to the port an’ wait,” I tell him, my voice low, calm.
“See if she comes. I’ll wager she’ll be there in the next few hours.
She’s too soft-hearted for her own good — can’t stand seein’ anyone bleed on her behalf.
That’s why she kept her mouth shut until those daft bitches called the police.
” I handled the issues back then, the cops and medics never returning to their families after their shift ended minus that one cop that brought her to the hospital. Never found him, unfortunately.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get men on it right away.”
“Make sure they’re the quiet ones,” I add, letting my tone sharpen. “No guns till I say. I want her scared, not dead. There’s a difference.”
The man nods quickly, eyes wide. He won’t forget that distinction — not if he values his life.
With that, he turns and leaves my office. Having her number, I am able to track her phone, so I will be able to see if she leaves the island. I’m not sure how she will do it. But I know she will. She is predictable.
I look under the desk to the slut that is down on her knees with my cock in her mouth. Tears running down her face, makeup everywhere. Just how I like it.
“Pick up the pace, bitch. I’ve someplace to be–and I won’t be kept waitin’.
” Her head begins to bob faster, and I reach down and place the palm of my hand on the back of her head, then I plug her nose.
Effectively, choking her on my cock. I hear her sputtering and she tries to push off to get air.
I don’t let go. Her fingernails drag down my legs as she tries, and fails, to get loose.
The struggle turns me on more. Watching the life leave them is like my favorite drug.
Although it would be a pity if she died. She has an excellent mouth.
I push down further, her thrashing is renewed in her panic, completely helpless. This is what causes my release, I shoot my cum down her throat, and she begins to hit my thighs and try to push herself off me even more. I don’t let her go.
I hold her head there after I finish, my fingers digging into her scalp, the silky strands of her hair wound tight around my knuckles until they turn white.
I count her desperate swallows, feeling each one against my sensitive flesh, before yanking her backward.
She crashes to the hardwood floor, her pale body curling inward as she gasps for air, each breath a ragged symphony.
Dark rivulets of mascara trace the contours of her flushed cheekbones, the black tears glistening under the dim light.
Her lips, swollen and trembling, part slightly as she tries to regain composure.
Beautiful. She is a masterpiece—vulnerability carved in flesh, surrender painted in tears.
“That will do,” I say to her, excusing her from my presence.
She begins to push off the floor, fixing the slutty pink bodycon dress she is wearing, brushing her blonde hair back behind her shoulders, and slipping on her pink heels. She begins to walk past me toward the door when I stop her with my words alone.
“I’ll see ye at the same time next week,” I say — not a question, an order. She’s paid well for her trouble, so I don’t want to hear any whining..
She falters by the door, her hand reaching up to steady herself on the door frame. I hear her take in a sharp breath before she continues exiting. I hear her heels clap on the tile as she leaves, and hear another pair enter my office.
“Sir, there is a man on the phone for you. He won’t give his name, and won’t take no for an answer. Would you like to take it?”
Brittney? Maybe Ashley? I have no idea what her name is. I think it starts with a B or maybe an A. Don’t matter, regardless.
“Yes, send it through. Did he have an accent—anything that stood out?”
“No sir, he didn’t.” Interesting. I wave her off so she can go put the call through to my phone.
Within a moment, the phone on my desk has a red light next to the number one.
I press it with my pointer finger, and use the rest of my hand to pick up the receiver.
There is just something about a standard, old school office phone that makes my black, shriveled heart light up. Feels very Mad Men, and I like it.
I put the speaker piece of the telephone to my ear and grunt my acknowledgment of whoever is on the other side. “This is Gavin.” I say nothing else.
“You think you have all this figured out, don’t you?” Says the voice on the other end of the phone line.
“Well, I do tend ta only act when I know I’ll accomplish the goal.”
“You don’t, but it’s fun to watch you make all your moves thinking you know what the ultimate outcome will be.” He says back. His voice is clean—flat American, polished. Too polished. I know that sound. I know exactly who this is.
“Are ye enjoyin’ yerself with my wife, Brenden Slater—while I’m kind enough ta let her believe she’s free?”
“You will never have her back, Gavin. She is a free woman, strong and independent. She is free to spend time with whomever she wants. But I know for a fact that is not you. Why don’t you meet me like a man? We can settle this, between us.”
“Ye truly think I’ll agree ta that, do ye? As if ye wouldn’t bring backup—try an ambush, maybe? No. I’ll keep me own odds and plans, thank ye kindly. Have a splendid day, Brenden.” I move to set the receiver back down when his voice cuts through again—low, amused, and far too calm.
“Wait Gavin, I’m not done talking to you. You’ll never get what you want, you’ll never lead the Irish Mafia. You are not a real man, Gavin, you’re a child dressed as an adult.” Then the line cuts out with the dial tone blasting through the speaker.
I’ll show him. He thinks he is going to get what belongs to me. The mafia, the woman, this city? No. Once Surry is back in her cage, I will make it my main focus to see Brenden and his entire organization dead, or better yet, they will belong to me.
I stand and collect my things, and turn off the lamp that is sitting on my strong, oak desk.
My office is styled after a 1950’s office.
Wood paneling on the walls that extend to about three quarters up the wall.
The rest is painted black up to the ceiling with random, very expensive art pieces hung on three of the walls.
I had told my assistant to get me the most expensive antique paintings she could find, so I really couldn’t tell you what they are or what they are worth.
Doesn’t affect me, but it does make me look better to the businessmen who visit me here.
The final wall is full glass, looking over all of Seattle’s downtown and The Sound. The Seattle ferris wheel is only two blocks to the south of my window. I turn the light off to my office, and shut the door behind me, locking it before stepping away.
Once I step outside, I look at my assistant. “What’s yer name, then?” I ask, letting the question drag just enough to sound like a warning wrapped in curiosity. There’s no point in pretending I give a shit about her name, but it’s helpful to know what to call her.
“Callie, sir.”
Wow, I wasn’t even close. Oh well. “Callie, lass, ride home with me. I need ta go over my schedule—an’ a few… important matters. I’ll likely be outta the office for the next few days.”
“Yes, sir.” She stands and straightens her red pencil skirt style dress with phenomenal cleavage.
She has long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and legs that go on for miles.
She will do nicely. I begin my walk to the exit, Callie trailing behind me after quickly shutting off the lights and snagging her laptop and purse.
The clack of her heels follows me out to the garage, where my car and driver are waiting.
I stand by the back door, and the driver opens it for me.
I let Callie get in first, and I climb in behind her.
All my cars are blacked out, bullet proof SUV’s.
Which means that there is lots of room in the back.
I had this specific SUV renovated to fit my style, my needs.
The luxurious interior was fitted with seating around the edges, but with access still to the hatch in the back, allowing me to haul whatever I need still.
The black interior always smells new as that is what I require from my driver.
There is a minifridge on one side full of champagne, beer, whiskey, and glasses for each.
It is especially impressive to business partners when I take them in this vehicle.
Nothing screams money like having a top of the line alcohol fridge in your fully renovated car.
Callie slides in and goes to the back, quickly taking her laptop out of her bag and opening it up.
“I’m expectin’ my wife ta join me today—after far too long apart. I’ll be… reconnectin’ with her over the next few days, along with takin’ care of some business. Now, what meetings do I have within, let’s say… the next week?”
If she is surprised that I said I have a wife, she doesn’t show it.
“You have a meeting with the owner of FerryCorp, Richard Ferry. That is tomorrow at one in the afternoon. I can call his office and reschedule that for you. The next day is a meeting with the Richmond LLC. I don’t have any other details on that meeting noted. .”
“Keep the Richmond appointment. I’ll make sure I’m there for that one. It’s about buildin’ me new location—where the new office’ll stand, with a penthouse sittin’ pretty on the top floor.”