Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
RACHEL
There are several days of quiet, tense conversations with New York and Frank. Things are settled. There’s no financial settlement with New York because they agree that Alberto went rogue in a way that’s not allowed.
Frank doesn’t get the money he demands either.
Sasha refuses to speak to him. It’s C who tells Frank it’s his own fault that he lost me for good.
C says I would still be under Frank’s roof if he hadn’t walked away, leaving me alone for Alberto Leone to abuse and try to rape.
Frank claims he had no idea what Berto planned to do and that he would have stopped him if he’d known.
C’s response is quick and absolute. “Your roof. Your responsibility.”
I listen silently on the line and shake my head, then I set the phone down and walk away before they finish speaking.
I want to put that night behind me; I’m trying to. I have a new cell phone and only a few people have the number. It’s nice that Frank can’t reach me anymore with text messages or calls. The longer we don’t communicate, the safer I feel.
Tonight, the five of us are in the kitchen.
Sasha stands at the counter cutting vegetables.
Zoe is going to make a stir-fry with three different kinds of sauces.
She’s in charge of making the spicy cashew one that C apparently loves.
I’m making a sweet and sour sauce for the fresh shrimp egg rolls that C’s making in the fryer.
Salsa music blasts through the kitchen, and Zoe’s hips are never still as she stands at the stove or comes to the counter island. She wears a hot pink lace slip dress that looks like lingerie.
“Trick, do you want to join us?” I ask, waving for him to come to the island.
He’s sitting on the couch in the breakfast nook, scrolling through his phone. “I’m working on something.”
Sasha picks me up and moves me a couple of feet over, so that his head isn’t directly under where the copper pots are hanging.
He bumped one earlier, but didn’t bother to move then.
His hand lingers on my waist for a second.
I’m wearing a simple black silk dress that’s loose enough to flow when I move.
It’s not sexy like Zoe’s, but I feel the heat of Sasha’s gaze whenever he looks at me.
“Anvil, you could ask her to move,” Zoe says saucily. “You don’t have to treat her like an object.”
“Mind your business, Z,” C says immediately, without looking up from what he’s doing.
“He treats her like she’s a doll,” Zoe says, holding a wooden spoon aloft.
“That’s what Frank did. Not picking her up, of course.
But picking out her clothes and posing her how he wanted for pictures.
Now she’s in the middle of things, she’s cooking, and Anvil just grabs her out of the blue and moves her around like a toy? Why?” she demands.
C slides an arm around Zoe’s waist, pulls her over, and plants a kiss on her mouth. “Get back to what you were doing,” he says with a small smack to her ass.
Zoe is not the sort of woman who can just let things go unresolved if she thinks there’s a problem. It’s not in her.
“Does it bother you or not, Rach?”
I shake my head.
“It would bother me,” she announces, then turns back to the sesame oil that’s popping in the wok. “But to each her own.”
Sasha’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out, checks the message, and follows a link. I peek at the screen. It looks like a real estate site.
Sasha glances at Trick. “Probably,” he says. “I’ll show her later.”
“You know what I want?” Zoe demands, spinning around.
Trick strolls over, slides an arm around Zoe, and then salsa dances around the counter and says, “What, princesa?”
Zoe’s smile is blindingly bright. “Sangria,” she says, throwing herself into the dance. When she twirls away from him, she dips into a move that arches her back and has her breasts straining the top of her dress.
“Sangria and stir-fry and salsa? It’s International Fest,” Trick says, taking a couple of bottles of red wine from the wine cooler. “Which fruit?”
“Oranges and apples. And the sugar should be brown,” she says with a smirk.
“Naturally,” Trick says.
“Spoiled,” C murmurs.
I know that there was a night when Zoe was punished by all three of them, and it was followed by them bringing her to orgasm while C had sex with her.
Sasha told me about it, reporting that he never touched her breasts or between her legs.
His participation had been restricted to holding her down and giving her a few swats.
I suspect that Trick, however, had been much more of an active participant in that group scene. I’ve never seen him do anything overly familiar with her, but they share a closeness.
My gaze moves to C. He doesn’t seem worried.
I think about the possessive way Sasha always draws me to him when other men are nearby. He wouldn’t like me dancing with Trick.
Zoe moves to stand near Connor. She slides her arms around him, hugging him from behind. I see her lips move as she whispers, I love you.
He turns his head and says, “Come.”
She kisses his offered mouth, then moves back to the stove.
I finish my sauce and pour it into a sauce boat. Then I take a glass of the fresh, icy sangria that Trick’s poured for me. The guys talk as they carry things to the dining room.
I catch Zoe’s wrist. “Is there something going on between you and Trick?” I whisper.
She shakes her head. “Something did happen one night. When I had to make amends for bad behavior. But C was in control of it.”
“Be careful,” I whisper.
Zoe smiles. “It’s not like that, I swear. It was just that one time. He wouldn’t initiate anything on his own.”
“Seems like he might,” I say.
“No. The dancing and whatnot, it’s just fun and games. Trick flirts with everyone.”
“He doesn’t flirt with me.”
“Well, he flirts with everyone who doesn’t have an Anvil looming over her ready to throw any man who gets too close across the room.”
“You really don’t think it bothers C when Trick gets flirty?”
“No. Anything I do that bothers C leads immediately to my ass being turned as red as my lipstick. Also, C wouldn’t hesitate to tell Trick to back off. C doesn’t let things stew. He settles them straight away.”
“I guess I’m just used to men being so possessive. Alberto was so jealous and angry when men got too close. Frank tried to control everything I did. It’s hard to wrap my head around C being so relaxed.”
She squeezes my arm. “You didn’t mention Anvil. He’s just as possessive as Frank or Alberto. Honestly, I think he’s more so.”
“No.”
“His eyes follow your every move, Rach. More than Frank’s or Alberto’s ever did. Why does he need to watch you like that in C’s kitchen?”
I shrug.
“I like him a lot. I like you guys together. I really do. But I don’t think it’s healthy for him to be that stalker-y. Why’s he still acting like that?”
“Habit?”
“Well, I hope he eventually chills.”
“Zoe!” C calls from the other room.
She jerks and then shakes her head, sending her curls flying. “Speaking of controlling men!” she huffs. But then she picks up her glass, exits, and sails into the dining room with a smile. “Yes, my love?” she asks, batting her lashes.
He cocks a brow. “Sit yourself down, little girl. We’re ready to eat.”
“Of course,” she says, brushing her lips over his stubbled jaw.
I sit across from Sasha. I try to decide if he’s watching me excessively.
It doesn’t seem like it to me. It’s just the way Sasha has always watched me.
And frankly, I don’t have to steal many extra glances to figure it out, because I realize that I always try to catch glimpses of him too.
Only now it’s easy to look at him without pretending that I’m not.
The food is amazing, and we all eat and chat. The guys have a way of ribbing each other that makes Zoe laugh and me smirk. It’s great. Really great.
The peanut sauce is so hot, though, that it makes my eyes water. I’m not the only one who notices. Sasha’s unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and Trick says, “Jesus” and guzzles sangria.
“Same,” I say, taking the sweet and sour sauce and using it on the last bit of my stir-fry.
C licks peanut sauce from the corner of his mouth. “It’s fantastic,” he says, looking at Zoe. “Put a couple tablespoons of that sauce aside. I want it for later.”
“We need it for the dish,” Zoe says, attempting to add more to her plate, which already has plenty. He catches her wrist to stop her, and her flushed cheeks darken.
“You heard me,” he says in a low voice.
She nibbles her lip as she gets up, clearly unable to resist the dominance in his voice.
I suspect everyone at the table is imagining the same thing. C painting Zoe’s private parts with that blazingly hot sauce. I can imagine too how the sting might make a girl writhe and beg for mercy. I shift in my seat, my pussy clenching as I picture my legs splayed and Sasha between them.
When I glance up, I find Sasha’s eyes on me. My face heats, and I look down, studying my food.
Trick stands, taking his dish and his glass. “Great dinner,” he says as he leaves the dining room.
A moment later, Sasha stands too, signaling me to join him. I collect our dishes, and my glass. I set the dishes in the sink and reach for the pitcher of sangria, but Sasha stops me.
“After,” he says, pulling me by the hand.
“After?” I murmur.
He leads me into the guest room where we slept the night I came back.
I stiffen slightly when I think of that night.
There isn’t much time to think though because he reaches under my dress and slides my panties all way down.
He unzips his trousers and frees his cock, which is hard and ready. I gasp as he lifts me.
“Put me inside you,” he orders.
I guide him to my entrance. He presses me against the wall and thrusts into me. I gasp again, gripping his shoulders. He’s so deep that there’s a pinching pain.
“Sasha—”
“Mmm,” he says, exhaling. “You’re so wet. Is this what you want?”