Chapter Fifty-Seven
Then…
“Te amo…”
I’m fluttering, on the edge of my consciousness.
“Mmm… dulzura.” His deep voice rumbles into me, from his chest into my back. “Te amo mucho, mi pajarito.”
Waking up, coming to, I feel how stiff he is. How hot and hard and thick…
“Dios… Diablo, estás ridículo,” I chuckle, though I’m grinding against it because why the hell not?
It feels fucking great.
“Who, me?” He hums, wicked grin brushing my nape.
Giving up because I just have to see his face right now, to verify for the hundredth time in a week that this is real, I spin in his arms and blink up at him.
Diablo… Manuel Blanco.
The Ivory.
Mine.
Black eye faded, split lip almost healed, swelling on his cheekbone nearly gone. He took a beating, not necessarily for me, but for the greater good of himself and ultimately our future.
Me encanta.
Reaching up, I brush my fingers along his battered face. “You’re almost all healed. That means we can finally venture out into the world.”
“But why would we do that when we have a perfectly good bed?” His pink lips twist as he drops them to my jaw, kissing a line over to my ear.
Pulling away from his almost excessively ravenous mouth, I prop up onto my elbows and look around the sparse room.
“Because that’s pretty much all we have,” I chuckle. “We need furniture, Diablo. Decor, products… Groceries. We’ve been in bed for days.”
He breathes out of amusement. “Si, your voice is pretty much gone.” His hand on my lower back tugs me until we’re flush again. “It’s hot.”
I wiggle away. “No more hiding in this bedroom, Diablo. Up and at ‘em.”
He frowns. “I’m not hiding, I’m relaxing. There’s a difference.”
“Yea, I get that. But it’s been nearly a week since you moved me in here, and I still don’t even have my own toothbrush.” I grin.
The frown line between his brow deepens. “I’m sorry, baby bird. I’m slacking on my duties as your provider.” He stretches out in bed, grabbing me by the waist once more. “Tomorrow, I promise.”
I’m giggling, and it makes him smile. “Don’t you dare pull me back into cuddling!”
He growls, rolling on top of me and pinning me to the mattress. “I have ways of keeping you here, pajarito.” His smirk teases my flesh. “I’ve kidnapped you before, remember?”
“I do. It’s only been a week since I escaped my cage,” I murmur.
One more kiss and he abruptly sits back, yanking me with him. “You’re right, my Angel. Let’s get up and become functioning members of society, shall we?”
My beaming would be impossible to ignore.
“And I don’t want you to feel like a guest here, baby,” he says firmly, but with some wonder in his tone.
Like he’s still amazed that this is happening.
“This is your home too.” I bite my lip, toying with the messy strands of silky white.
“So, let’s get cleaned up and dressed. We’ll go get something, and then go shopping. ”
I’m visibly excited as he winks. But before I can get up on my own, he tosses me over his shoulder, carrying me into the en suite while I squeal.
I really wasn’t sure what to expect when we left the island. When Ivory told me we were moving to the West Coast, and I was even more unsure. I’d lived in New York for almost five years at that point. I knew I’d miss it.
But then… I’d never been to Las Vegas before.
Ivory has a few houses scattered in various parts of the world, but the only ones he has in The States are in Vegas, and on Alabaster Isle—which I guess technically isn’t New York. It isn’t really anywhere, which is odd to think about.
Nonetheless, he’d voiced to me after surrendering to Velle and his people that, what with Governor Russo being gone, it was a good idea to stay out of New York for a while.
The business in Vegas is said to be booming, so coming out this way was barely a choice.
Alabaster Isle, and everything on it, now belongs to Jonathan Chevelle, which means Diablo and I are starting fresh in Las Vegas.
Little did I know that he’s never actually lived in the house in Vegas, so it’s practically empty.
We were supposed to be normal people and furnish it when we got here, but instead we spent the last five days in bed, ordering DoorDash and fucking until our bodies were just on the brink of shutting down.
I won’t say it hasn’t been the best week of my life, because it has. But now it’s time to explore what comes next.
Out of the shower, dressed in one of the few outfits I packed, so little shorts and an oversized crop, I’m brushing my hair while Manuel stands beside me, shaving.
“Yari’s going to the mansion this week to coordinate packing up some more of my things,” he tells me. “If there’s anything you want, or need…”
“The garden.” I pout, and he chuckles woefully. “The aviary, the pond. There are just… more than a few things about that mansion I’m going to miss.”
“Well, my love, I know it’s not exactly the same, but we’re working with a blank canvas here. So however you want this place to be is how it’ll be.” He turns to face me. “We’re going to make this our home, not just mine.”
Swooning so hard I’m dizzy, I bite my lip. “Sold.”
He winks, and I take the razor from him, swiping it up his throat to finish his shaving for him.
“If you killed me right now, it’d totally blow my mind,” he whispers. “Just saying.”
I laugh out loud, kissing his ridiculous mouth. “Maybe tomorrow.”
First stop: food. In the car, Diablo is naming a bunch of fancy restaurants, but I see a Waffle House and my eyes light all the way up. We go in and eat everything, and it’s maravilloso. Then we run around shopping for way too long, until I’m hungry again.
We go for ice cream at this place I saw on Instagram, and when we’re on our way home, Diablo tells the driver to take the strip so I can see it at night, all lit up for the first time.
“This is so cool.” I’m shimmying, gawking at the Bellagio fountain, and Caesar’s Palace, and the Paris.
“Tomorrow I’ll take you on the High Roller,” he grins, more beautifully content than I ever imagined he could look. “That’s the giant Ferris wheel. It gives you the best view of the strip.”
“Can’t wait.” I thread our fingers.
“For now, though, would you like to see one of my businesses?”
“That depends…” I peek at him warily. Because that could mean so many things.
He chuckles. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
The car pulls up in front of a giant hotel called Darling, parking in the super special VIP spot that’s obviously for celebrities and hotel owners since it blocks traffic like a mofo.
We get out and Ivory takes my hand, pulling me along, inside the hotel.
But once we’re in, we don’t go toward the casino or shops.
We take a different door that leads to a private area.
Inside is a bouncer and a clerk’s window, which feels reminiscent of Club Edge. Of course they don’t check our ID’s or make us sign anything since, well… he’s Manuel Blanco.
“Jefe,” the bouncer nods as we stalk past him, down a flight of stairs.
When we reach the bottom, I’m looking directly into a very long hallway that splits off in two directions. There are neon signs above both.
One says Vixens, and the other says Vices.
“Pick a side, any side,” Ivory drawls.
“What’s the difference?” I blink.
He doesn’t answer me, just smirks.
I roll my eyes and nod right, for Vices.
His grin widens. “Good choice, pajarito malo.”
Tugging me by my hand, we head for the long, dark corridor.
“Why does this feel like a cross between Edge and the Pen…” I shout to him over the thumping music.
“Hmm… I never noticed.” He winks.
Before we make it two steps, someone comes out of the Vixens side. A young woman.
I stop short, my every muscle tensing. My heart flies up into my throat so quickly that I cough.
She doesn’t see me at first. Diablo doesn’t notice either.
Until I call out, “Avia…?”
And she stops. And turns.
I’m shivering head to toe.
“Angel??”
“Avianna…” I sob on a hoarse gasp, and I run to her.
My… sister.
My fucking sister is alive, and standing right in front of me.
“Dios mio… what the fuck?!” She cries, collapsing into me.
“Avianna! Is it really you??” I squeeze onto her for dear life. “Por favor tell me I’m not dreaming.”
Tears are pouring down my cheeks like a waterfall, buried in her sandy-colored hair, which was always a shade lighter than mine.
And I don’t know how the hell it’s possible after nearly twenty years… but she smells the same.
My God… I’m crumbling.
“It’s me,” my sister shudders. “It’s me, Angelito. I’m here.”
“I th-thought you were…” I’m so woozy, I will pass out if I’m not careful.
“I’m sorry…” She’s sniveling, hugging me so hard, we’re melting back together.
The way we’re supposed to be. Together.
Me and my twin sister, together again. Almost twenty years later, but we made it.
“I… f-found you,” I quake. “I never stopped believing.”
She nods, weeping hysterically.
It takes both of us several minutes to even disconnect from one another. But when we do, we both remember that we’re not alone.
And when Avia sees Ivory, her glassy eyes go round, the green in them shining confusion, and hatred.
Yea. That makes sense.
After all, she still thinks he’s responsible for what she’s been through all these years, which, in a way, he is. Though not fully.
But my sister doesn’t know the details. All she sees is her twin brother with the man who killed our parents and kidnapped her. So naturally, the assumption would be that he’s had me all this time, like some evil, raging creeper.
In a flash, Avianna, reaches into the tiny shorts she’s wearing and pulls out a small knife. Whipping the blade out, she lunges at Ivory, pressing it up to his neck.
“Avia, wait!” I yelp.
“Morir, motherfucker!” She growls.
Immediately, two large bouncers rush her, one from each direction. They grab my sister and lift her off the ground while she flails.
Ivory grips his throat, pulling his palm away to reveal a smear of red.
“Oh no… Fuck!” I whimper, running to him.
“I’m okay, baby,” he breathes. “It’s just a cut.”