Chapter Ten #4
He squirms beside me, with our arms touching and my hands caressing his. Warm flesh, dewy from the water, and the heat of blazing awareness. The way I’m focusing on it, and the things I’m thinking, are entirely unprofessional. But I can’t seem to help it.
Turning off the water, I face him. “I didn’t come searching for you, Jonathan… In fact, you’re an unexpected gift. But one I need desperately.”
Releasing his hands with a slow sweep of his slippery skin between mine causes a significant jerk below my waist. I could groan… But I won’t.
I pick up his brass knuckles, thick shiny metal gleaming in the low fluorescent light overhead.
I think he senses what I’m thinking, because he straightens his fingers. Eagerly, I watch them pushing through the holes as I slide them on, fitting the weapon to his large hand.
Without even realizing it, I’m petting him.
“You’re exactly everything I need,” I whisper, so close that I’m breathing this truth over his full, hot, greedy fucking mouth.
Dios…
My jaw clenches.
Focus.
But for every tremor in me right now, I can feel it mirrored back.
He is unfulfilled, too.
Reaching out, I brush some black hair behind his ear. He blinks slowly, then clears his throat.
Maybe he could be even more than just that.
I’m in the car, waiting to greet Jonathan when he gets off the ferry.
Just being a good host, and such.
Kent tosses his bag into the trunk, opening the door for him to get into the back seat. I think he’s surprised to see me already in there.
“I missed you,” I drawl, in a way that could be considered teasing or serious.
I’m not even sure myself which is the right answer.
Jonathan blinks, perplexed and not hiding his uncertainty. Yet he still grins, biting his lip to contain it as he climbs in. “I didn’t know you were going to pick me up…”
“I don’t know that I’m strong enough to pick you up, darling, but I could try.
” I purse my lips, fluttering when he scoffs a tiny chuckle, cheeks turning visibly pink as he rolls his eyes.
I recline in my seat while Kent drives off.
“I couldn’t very well let you make the drive alone with Kent. He’s a shit road trip companion.”
Kent shoots me one of his stone face looks in the mirror, and I wink.
“Is it far?” Jonathan gazes out the window. “I thought the island was only—”
“We’re here,” I cut him off with a breathy snicker.
The car pulls through the gate, up the winding driveway to the front entrance of my home.
The Ivory Mansion.
“Jesus…” Jonathan chuckles. “I could have walked.”
“Let us play with the luxury, my pet,” I purr. “You’ll be working working working very soon. Might as well relax while you still can.”
Jonathan isn’t fazed in the slightest by the prospect of hard work. If anything, he seems excited about it, which only solidifies the notion that I made the right call.
It’s been roughly three weeks since I caught him red-handed murdering my dealers, who, quite frankly, had it coming. Still, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t find a way to capitalize on the situation.
God, I love leverage. I’d go as far as to say it gets me hard. In certain circumstances, that is.
Like now, knowing what it can do for me.
As it turns out, Fabian was on the right track when he mentioned motivating our guards. It just took a very special animal, dripping in blood, standing over two dead bodies, for me to see the answer right in front of me, shivering in fear and regret…
Screw repurposing cartel men…
I will build my team of correctional officers from scratch, of men just like John Chevelle. Well, not just like him. After all, John Chevelle is my prized possession.
He’s the key to building my army.
Sure, he was only a bouncer at a nightclub, but that’s in the past. I saw what he could do… The way he tracked down my men and slaughtered them for hurting his family, like there was nothing to it but that.
The way he wiped their existences away with his brute strength and his large, capable hands.
Perfect. Truly. A one in a million hunk of clay, ready to be molded.
I see nothing but pure potential in Jonathan Chevelle. A blank canvas awaiting my… brush strokes.
Fuck me… Okay. Ignore that.
The point is that with him as my second in command on this island, Alabaster Penitentiary will be as much a dark force, and I’ll be unstoppable.
Together, we will build an army of officers with similar motivations… Skills in spades, and everything on the line.
And so it goes… Alabaster Pen has its first guard.
It took us a couple of weeks to hammer out the details, on both sides.
I filled my New York team in on how we would proceed, and they got to work.
Fabian and Kent have been diligently milking their connections in hopes of finding other capable humans we can blackmail into coming to work for me, in the prison.
I would love to stumble upon them organically, like I did with Jonathan. But I don’t have that kind of time. The board has been breathing down my neck to get Alabaster Pen up and running, and I’ll need at least a handful of guards before we can begin taking in prisoners.
We’re in the process of acquiring more bodies, and Jonathan will handle training them—the whole onboarding process, which I fully believe to be the best course of action.
No, I don’t know him well, but I’ve seen everything I need to so far. We’ll learn the rest as we go. What’s the worst that could happen?
Ha. Famous last words, right?
Kent set up the left side of the mansion to house our crew of correctional officers. Bedrooms and bathrooms fully stocked with everything they’ll need to live and work here on my island full-time.
Like a… residence program of sorts. That’s a thing, I know it is.
There are more than a few aspects of this that are less than OSHA-approved. Deal with it.
If anything, the notion of creating and owning this process, start to finish, top to bottom, really speaks to the power-hungry control freak in me. And keeping it all locked up tight on the island will ensure loyalty, above all else.
Weird fucking nerd or not, L. Ron Hubbard was onto something, for sure.
Jonathan gets out of the car, as do I, though while he’s gazing all around at the exterior of the ornate monstrosity that is our new home, I’m watching him.
It’s hard not to, honestly. He’s a very captivating person. I realized that the night we met. But also, this is as new for me as it is for him.
I never expected I’d be sharing my living space with my employees. Truthfully, I never really saw myself having employees who weren’t associated with the cartel. Operating Alabaster Penitentiary is far out of my wheelhouse in many ways. But I can’t say I’m not excited about it.
This island is my very own kingdom. A dark and dreary place that I happen to find strangely beautiful.
I feel like Scar, after he wipes out that goodie two shoes Mufasa, and convinces his bitch-boy son to run away like the coward he is. That was always my favorite part of that movie…
Long live the king, right?
And now, the jungle is all mine, to operate as I see fit.
Jonathan lingers by the car, but I shoo him along. “Kent will get your bags. Come.”
He’s a bit stiff when I take his arm in mine. I won’t say it doesn’t please me immensely. Walking him up the steps to the front door, I’m biting back my grin as I push them open.
A gasp leaves his lips, followed by a hushed, “Holy crap…”
I sneer, whispering by his ear, “Welcome home.”
His face is bobbing all around as he takes in the architecture; high ceilings, vampire-esque decor, twin grand staircases, on the left and right sides of the house.
“I can’t exactly give you a full tour, because that would take days,” I murmur in amusement. “But I’ll show you the important things, and you can go exploring on your own later.” I bring him to the left first. “This will be your side.”
“My… side?” He gives me a look while we ascend the stairs. “As in… the whole left side is mine?”
“For now, yes.” I grin. “You’ll be sharing it with the rest of the guards, once they arrive.” He nods to this. I can see the wheels turning in his mind. “The rest of the staff stays in the staff quarters. A separate house out back.”
“And you?” Blue eyes shift to mine. “Where do you… stay?”
Something inside me feels bizarre. I can’t put my finger on it, but I’m tense beneath my skin as I murmur, “On the right,” nodding in that direction.
“Right…” he breathes and swallows.
Am I supposed to know what that tone means?
I’m certain I’m not supposed to be obsessing over it…
At the top of the stairs, I bring him to the bedroom we’ve set up for him. “This is your chalet, darling.”
“Did you know you sound sarcastic even when you’re not trying to?” He shoots me a sly yet subtle side-smirk.
“Moving on, Jonathan,” I grumble, spinning on my heel to the sound of his chuckles.
I’m biting the inside of my cheek too hard. The pain is good, though.
It’s keeping me grounded.
“The bedroom is really nice,” he remarks. “Thank you.”
The things happening in my stomach are disturbing. I need a drink…
“Don’t thank me yet.” I narrow my gaze at him. “You haven’t seen the prison.”
Amusement falls, and he gulps. I can’t help but grin.
Just… precious.
I forgot how refreshing it is to be in the presence of the innocent.
That’s not to say I believe anyone to be innocent, since I’ve been around the block enough to know that everyone has their demons. But I’ve also been surrounded by the cartel for as long as I can remember.
Crime and corruption have made up my life for many years. Interacting with someone from outside of it all is titillating.
It means I get to do the defiling for a change.
Showing Jonathan around does take an eternity. This mansion is very much mall-sized, a fact that’s not lost on my new roomie as I bring him through the conservatory.
“This place is like a resort,” he comments. “It’s going to be weird living here alone.”
You won’t be alone…
My wayward thoughts bring me to a screeching halt. He stops walking and peeks at me.