13. Carmela
Carmela
A nders’ eyes dart to my mouth as I continue to lick up the mess he’s making on my lips. I feel sated and full, even though I’m empty. Something else fills me that I haven’t felt in years—something warm and light, yet crushing all at once.
He just made me his bitch, but I’m too satisfied to care right now.
His hand is warm as he wipes my sweaty hair from my face. “Are you okay?”
I hate the goofy grin that pulls at my lips. Sex makes people so stupid. Turning my head, I try to hide it in my hand, sitting up from where he has me lying across his lap. “Mmhmm.”
Whatever he’s about to say next is lost as the door opens, and Luca steps in, shutting it behind him and slamming his fist on the speaker button to cut off the sound linking us to the hall outside. “So, you’ve replaced me then, is that it? Couldn’t fuck me because you’re involved with him now?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Luca. How many times do I have to tell you? We. Aren’t. Dating.” I don’t even look at him as I crawl out of Anders’ lap to pick up what’s left of my dress. He did a thorough job ruining it. There’s nothing left to put back on. Not even a scrap to cover me until I get back to my office.
“We may not be dating, Carmela, but I was your regular fuck before this jackass came into the picture. I think that deserves a little respect,” Luca warns. He’s never so much as raised his voice to me before, and if this were any other time before Anders, it would have turned me on.
Now, it just pisses me the fuck off.
Frowning, I find Anders’ discarded suit jacket and slip it over my naked—and downright filthy—body before turning to face him. Anders has gotten off the bed and tucked himself back into his pants, watching Luca warily. The large man only has heated eyes for me, though.
Eyes filled with so much anger, I swear I can see flames in his umber orbs.
Anders’ jacket is big enough to cover me like a mini dress, and I pull it around me as I approach Luca. “You’re right. I’m sorry. ”
My apology catches both men off guard. Luca blinks, his brow furrowing while Anders mutters, “Seriously?”
Luca watches my hand as I reach out and lay it on his arm, giving his bicep a quick squeeze. “You’re absolutely right, Luca. You deserve better than the way I’ve treated you. I know how you feel, and I’m sure what I just did was hard to watch. I didn’t do it to hurt you. I promise.”
I speak to him slowly and calmly, like trying to soothe a child. His temper cools, the anger draining from his gaze as distress fills them. “I just don’t understand why you changed your mind. What we had was good.”
“What we had was never going to be long-term. And these letters showing up with the threats…it makes the most sense to have Anders be the one performing with me.” I drop my hand from his arm, and he watches it fall dejectedly.
“The point of him being here is to find out who’s threatening you. It was supposed to be easier to perform with me instead,” he mutters quietly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Anders slant his head and make a humming sound. I catch it, too—Luca’s words are concerning, given the circumstances, and for the first time since the letters began, I wonder if there should be a reason to add him to the list of suspects .
Anders steps up to my side. “Interesting choice of words.”
Luca’s eyes snap to him, a sneer turning his features monstrous. “Is it? Because I thought your job was to protect her, not fuck her. Fake it, not actually do it. Yet, you just put on a show and ensured no one could bother you while you did it. You’re not worried about catching the killer. You’re more focused on what’s between her legs,” he lashes out before turning his attention back to me. “And you ? How could you fuck him after all this shit he keeps saying about you? Is that who you want to be with? Someone who keeps putting you down? Making a mockery of you and the club?” His words are venomous, meant to question Anders’ ability to do his job while reminding me of what the man I just let play my body like a violin thinks about me.
A lump forms in my throat. My sinuses start to burn. Anders’ hand on the small of my back startles me, spurring me to move around Luca so I can head back to my office and process everything that just happened in solitude.
“Carmela…” I hear Anders call out to me, but his voice is cut off by Luca saying something I can’t make out as I get further away from them. I’m vaguely aware they are following me, arguing the entire way through the Desires hall and into the Grand Room. Jace shoots me a sympathetic look as I pass the bar and enter the hall that leads to my office .
The door is already open, which is weird because I always remember to shut it when I leave. The sound of the two men arguing grows louder as I stay in the hall and slowly push the door wider, but their voices fade when I see what’s on my desk.
A single decaying red rose with its signature black ribbon swirled around the thorns lies on an all too familiar red envelope.
Terror pierces through my veins, turning my blood to ice as the breath catches in my throat.
“What is it?” Anders’ voice cuts through the fog that’s taken over my mind as he appears next to me. I turn to look at him just as he looks into the room and sees the letter. “Shit.”
He touches my waist briefly, gently moving past me to grab the letter. Whoever is sending them never leaves prints, but he still uses the edge of his shirt to hold the envelope as he fishes the letter out with his thumb and index finger after putting tape on the pads. He reads it silently before his brows scrunch together, and he looks up at me. “It’s another nursery rhyme,” he states in a confused tone. “What’s with the nursery rhymes?”
Anders lays the letter on the desk and motions for me to read it before his eyes flicker to Luca, who is now taking up the entire doorway. “How the fuck do these keep getting in here without anyone seeing who’s dropping them off?” he asks him.
“I’ll go down to the security room and see if anyone was caught on camera,” Luca says gruffly before disappearing down the hall.
Without taking my eyes off the letter, I slowly venture further into my office and use the sleeve of Anders’ jacket to pull it to the edge of my desk.
Rock a bye baby on the Jersey Shore. Everyone knows its mother’s a whore. When this all ends, will Jersey be safe? Better go check on your biggest mistake.
“What the fuck does it mean, Carmela? What’s with the nursery rhymes? What’s in Jersey?” Anders’ questions are muffled by the sound of my blood rushing through my ears.
“I don’t know.” My voice is small.
“Bullshit! You’re visibly terrified. Why, Cara?” He sounds angry, like this letter explains everything, and I’m holding it back from him. I may not be telling him the truth, but I still have no fucking clue why I’m receiving these threats.
“I don’t know,” I repeat, voice a little stronger this time.
Anders and I have spent too much time together at this point, though. “I can tell you’re lying.” His voice softens. “Why are you lying to me? ”
Taking a deep breath, I harden my eyes as they meet his, my voice steely when I answer him. “I don’t know.”
He doesn’t ask me whether I’m just repeating myself or admitting I don’t know why I’m lying to him.