40. Candy
CHAPTER FORTY
CANDY
F or the eight days leading up to this mission, I was drilled on how to physically defend myself, what to do if Duffy confronted me, and what to do when our team busted the show.
None of my training prepared me for facing him .
Memories of my past at this man’s mercy threaten to flood my mind, making my pulse race.
The slithering unease his touch would invoke on my skin as his fingers crept over my flesh. The bite of pain across my ass from whatever choice of weapon he used on my body. His low, maniacal laugh ringing in my ears as he would violate my body.
No. I can’t afford to sink back into my dark memories. Not while he’s close to me—never again.
Forcing the past to stay in the past, I control my breathing. In and out. Showing any sign of weakness could be used against me, something I refuse to allow.
He can’t hurt me now. Even if he’s feet away, he can’t touch me. Butch won’t let him near me. The guys won’t let anything happen to me.
My eyes flicker to my biker in the room’s corner. Butch’s hazel eyes zero in on the bastard standing directly behind my seat. His gaze sweeps to me, questioning. Our eyes connect, communicating in our special, silent way. Whatever he sees in my face tells him everything he needs to know. Butch’s face darkens, his jaw clenched tightly. His long hands curl into tight fists at his side, ready to do damage.
As much as I want Butch to unleash on the man behind me, there’s too much at stake. The mission comes first. We’ll deal with him after— together .
Piero turns in his seat, examining the man who’s barged into our private room with a cynical scowl while his bodyguards move closer to protect their boss. Ziggy’s eyes flint between Butch and the man behind me, while his hand goes to his hip, where his gun is holstered. And Tank cocks his head to the side, cracking his neck. They all sense this man is bad news.
They’re not wrong.
I need to deescalate the situation quickly before we blow our cover.
As I attempt to appear unruffled, I take another sip of my champagne before setting it down. Taking my sweet ass time as I give myself an internal pep talk, I slowly rise from my seat and turn to face the devil.
“Hello, Cú Sidhe. ”
The name hangs in the air, sinking into everyone’s awareness of who we’re dealing with before our team on the outside breaks out into another string of curses.
The man standing before me is as intimidating as the last time I saw him. He’s tall, six-foot at least, with a long, lean torso covered in an expensive black suit. Shaggy, shoulder-length, light brown hair gives him a wild look, matching his unpredictable demeanor. His facial features are more closely centered, showing off his murky-blue hooded eyes, round nose, and large forehead. His pale skin gives him a deathly appearance, giving you the creepy-crawlies.
But his smile…that wickedly alluring smile draws you in, catching you by surprise when he turns on you with the back of his hand.
Cú Sidhe scans me from head to toe and back, his smile growing bigger and crueler with each passing second. “You’ve changed your hair.”
I shrug, acting indifferent, allusive. “I’ve changed a lot.”
He seems amused, cocking his head at me. “I would hope you haven’t changed too much.”
“How she’s changed is of no concern to you,” Piero says, rising from his seat to face my nemesis. “And this is my private suite. See yourself out, or I’ll have my men show you the way . ”
“Signore Bianchi, my apologies.” Duffy hastily intervenes, the sweat around his forehead building back up rapidly. He moves closer to the altercation, possibly sensing a war ready to break out. Duffy licks his lips, eyeing the two tyrants in the room. “ Cú Sidhe likes to…greet all our guests.”
Duffy steals a quick glance my way, his wide forehead etched with worry. He’s probably recalling all the horrible shit he put me through. Seeing me with Piero possibly makes him realize it doesn’t bode well for either him or Cú Sidhe.
Piero side-eyes Duffy, sensing the lie. At the same time, Cú Sidhe is reprimanding Duffy. “You said Mister Bianchi was bringing his partner. You never mentioned he was bringing Leslie. Did you know and hide this information from me?”
Duffy jumps to defend himself, fear evident in his unsteady voice. “I knew nothing, Cú Sidhe. I swear.”
“That tracks,” Cú Sidhe seethes.
“Allowing guests to enter my private suite.” Piero tsks, chiding Duffy. “Your discretion policy is not being enforced. What other areas in this organization are lagging?”
Duffy shakes his head hastily. “No, Signore Bianchi. It’s not like that. We know your lady friend.”
“ We have a history,” Cú Sidhe says in a low voice, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Meh,” I say in the most trivializing tone I can muster as I turn my attention to Piero. “History is a bit of a stretch. More like acquaintances once upon a time. ”
Like he’s recalling the past, Cú Sidhe ’ s thin lips morph into a cruel smirk, eyeing me with hungry eyes in a way that makes my skin crawl. Gross. It makes me want to scrub my body with sandpaper.
No. I will not let him get under my skin. Too much is at stake, and he’s scrutinizing all my actions for signs of weakness.
“ Cú Sidhe was a past customer from my working days in your cousin’s brothel.” I wave a dismissive hand like it’s old news, water under the bridge.
My abuser blinks, possibly surprised by my blasé response regarding my time as a sex slave.
“Interesting.” Piero mimics my fake apathy as he takes a sip of his whiskey. He looks at Cú Sidhe with amusement. “It’s like a reunion.”
“Nothing like reminiscing about the old days,” I lie while internally cringing.
“Mmm, sì . Perhaps it can wait until after the auction? We have business to deal with, Candy.”
Cú Sidhe sneers at Piero. “What kind of pet name is Candy?”
“A chosen one,” I interject coolly, facing Cú Sidhe once again. With surprising ease, I mask my expression to appear indifferent to this piece of shit.
He glares at me—a power play. Rising to the challenge, I hold his glacial gaze. He will not win.
“Everyone knows I’m sweet with the men I entertain.” I smirk, giving him a wink.
For a moment, I watch the veins in his temple protrude. His skin reddens as his anger is amplified by my defiance. Mister Controlling is not used to me talking back. His frustration is more transparent than a window.
Ha! Joke’s on him. I’m full of backtalk these days, and I love calling the shots. Damn if it isn’t exhilarating to discover how easy it is to crawl under his skin. The sadistic side of me hopes it drives him up the wall.
My back-sass has Cú Sidhe slinking closer to me, his hand half-outstretched, ready to grab me—like he’s itching to teach me a lesson .
Before he can come within grabbing distance, Butch is at his back, stopping Cú Sidhe mid-motion. He yanks my abuser’s arm behind his back, forcing Cú Sidhe upward on his toes as he tries to escape the pain.
“Touch her and die,” my possessive biker growls in his gravel-pitted voice.
Cú Sidhe hisses through his clenched teeth, looking over his shoulder at Butch with his signature glare. If looks could kill, Butch would be obliterated.
“If you value your life, you’ll release me at once.”
The murderous look in Butch’s eyes tells me he has no intentions of letting him go.
This altercation is putting the captives at further risk. I need to bring my biker to heel.
My reaction is involuntary. I snap my fingers at Butch, grabbing his attention. “Butch, release him.”
My biker’s eyebrows nearly go to his hairline, looking at me like I lost my damn mind. Tank and Ziggy place their hands on their pieces, ready to give aid to their brother. All the while, Piero and his guards watch from the sidelines, making no move to intervene.
It’s up to me to regain control of the situation. I do the one thing I’m certain will bring order. And fuck if I don’t hate myself for abusing my influence on my man.
Putting weight behind my words, I warn Butch. “Don’t make me repeat myself, boy .”