Chapter 27
Vanessa
“Whiskey, neat.” The gentleman at the bar smiles a smarmy smile, and I force one back.
The key to getting good tips is to edge the line between flirty and professional. And I love tips.
And the gentleman sitting in front of me—Rodney Shefield—loves to tip.
“You got it,” I tell him, turning to grab the bottle of Kingston Limited.
“Did you hear about the mayor?” the guy next to him asks, gaining my attention as I make Rodney’s drink.
“Yeah.” Rodney laughs. “He’s being forced to step down.” He shakes his head. “I always knew Eric Vanderbilt was a lying, scheming asshole, and that leaked recording proves it.”
“What recording?” I ask, setting his drink down.
“A recording of the mayor admitting that he took bribes and was aware that Paul Astor Jr. was injured to ensure that Eric would win the election.”
Oh shit. Lorenzo mentioned that he had recorded the conversation between Matteo and Eric, but I wasn’t sure what Matteo planned to do with it. I guess he decided to throw him under the bus.
“He deserves everything coming his way,” Rodney says. “I heard the council has appointed Paul Jr.,” the other guy says.
“Hey, Vanessa,” Felisha, another bartender I sometimes work with, says. “The boss wants to see you. I can cover you.”
I glance at her. “Is everything okay?”
In all the time I’ve been working here, I’ve never been asked to go to the main office.
She shrugs. “No clue. I was just asked to let you know.”
“Okay.” I sigh, then quickly get her caught up to speed on the gentlemen sitting at the bar and what they’re drinking since I don’t know how long I’ll be.
It’s late, nearly one in the morning, and my feet are killing me.
I have a couple of Band-Aids in my locker, so before I go to the office, I grab them and make a detour into the restroom so I can put the Band-Aids on the backs of my heels and go pee.
I’ve only just taken my first heel off when I hear the clicking of a lock, which has me looking up because it’s not a one-person restroom.
At first, I think my eyes are deceiving me. But then I realize that I’m not seeing things.
Eric Vanderbilt—my mother’s husband, the man who tried to sell me—is standing in the doorway to the restroom, blocking my way out.
And before I can scream, he’s on me.
“You fucking bitch!” he hisses, grabbing me by the throat and shoving me against a wall. “This is all your fault.”
The alcohol on his breath has me gagging and trying to pull away, but he only tightens his hold on me.
“Your stupid fucking husband framed me, and now I’m going to lose everything, so I’m going to take everything from you.”
Lorenzo
“Hey, Solace,” I call out to one of the bartenders as I have a seat at the bar in the casino of Hotel Blu. “Where’s my wife?”
Vanessa isn’t a fan of me hanging out while she works, saying I give off jealous, possessive vibes, which messes with her tips, but Leo is with Dani tonight since I had a late dinner meeting, and I figured I’d come by and have a drink and take her home myself.
“Hey, Lorenzo,” Solace says. “Vanessa is …” She glances around. “Well, shoot, I don’t know where she is.”
“Franco asked to see her,” Felisha says, just as Franco, the casino manager, walks through the back door.
“Mr. Russo.” He shakes my hand. “How are you?”
“Good. Came by to see my wife, but I was told she was with you.”
His brows furrow, and before he even speaks, I know something is wrong.
“She was supposed to be, but she never came by my office to …”
Before he can finish what he’s saying, I’m out of my seat and cutting across the room to the entrance where Sal is supposed to be guarding Vanessa.
“Where is she?” I bark.
“What do you mean?” he questions. “She’s in there.”
“No, she’s fucking not. Find her!”
“She never came out of here,” he says, pulling his two-way out and speaking into it to let everyone know she’s missing.
“She was supposed to go see Franco, but never showed up.”
“Shit, then she would’ve gone through the back.”
Sal runs inside, and I follow.
“Have you seen Vanessa?” he asks one of the guys sitting in the security room.
The guy clicks the mouse a few times and then pales. “She’s in the bathroom located in the Azul Room. We don’t have access to it, but a gentleman just went in after her.”
“Fuck!” I run toward the Azul Room with Sal on my heels.
“Tell me you have a key, or I’m going to shoot this fucking door in.”
“I have it.” He unlocks the door and swings it open, and we both draw our guns out, preparing for anything.
In life, every decision you make leads to some kind of consequence, so when you make your choice, you have to decide if you’re willing to live with the consequence.
And as I stare into Vanessa’s terrified eyes—who’s fighting the ex-mayor, begging him not to rape her as he slaps her and tells her to shut up, with his limp dick hanging out of his pants and her shorts wrapped around her ankles—I make a decision without giving a shit about the consequences.
“Get your fucking hands off my wife,” I say lowly.
Eric’s bloodshot eyes meet mine, and he stumbles back in shock.
When Matteo warned me that he was leaking the recording of Eric admitting his part in ensuring he won the election, which led to Eric being forced to step down, I should’ve considered that he would go after Vanessa, but I didn’t.
We’ve been so caught up in our own little bubble that it felt like we were untouchable.
Without giving Eric a chance to respond, to explain himself, to beg me to go easy on him, I pull the trigger. Then I pull it one more time for good measure.
I don’t have a silencer on my gun, so I have no doubt people nearby heard it going off. Security will be notified. The police will show up. There’s a chance that by killing the ex-mayor of Harbor Point, I’ll end up back in jail—this time for murder.
But my only focus is on Vanessa. Tears are streaming down her face, her body visibly shaking. I cut across the restroom, ignoring the blood all over the walls and floor, and pull her into my arms.
“Thank you,” she chokes out, nestling her face into my chest as her sobs cause her entire body to tremble. “I … I tried to fight him off. He was going on about losing everything and it being my fault, but … but … oh God, Lorenzo.”
I pull back and can see it in her eyes, hear it in her tone—she’s having an anxiety attack.
“Do you have your pills, baby?” I murmur, framing her face with my hands.
“In my purse,” she rasps. “In … the … employee … changing room.”
“Okay, take deep breaths. You’re okay.” I lift her into my arms. “We’re going to get your purse and pills and then get you out of here.”
“Matteo’s on his way,” Sal says. “He said he’ll take care of it.”
I take Vanessa out the back way, grabbing her purse and a bottle of water, and then to my car, where I set her in the passenger seat, needing to get her as far away from here as possible.
She tries to open the bottled water, but her hands are shaking, so I gently take it from her, open it with one hand, and then return it to her.
Once she takes the pills, I give them a few minutes to set in before I try to talk to her about what happened.
When she seems to have settled and her breathing has slowed, I take her hand in mine.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”
“No,” she whispers. “He was drunk, which made him sloppy, and you got to me before he could do anything.”
I call Matteo on the way home, and he assures me that he’s going to make sure this doesn’t come back on me.
“Where’s Leo?” Vanessa asks when we walk inside, it now hitting her that he’s not here.
“I had a late meeting, so he’s spending the night at my sister’s. I went to the casino to take you home instead of Sal.”
“I need a shower. I need to get him off me.”
I nod and follow her into her room, unsure if she wants to be alone. When I stop in the doorway, she looks back at me.
“Join me?”
We wordlessly get undressed and then step into the shower while, I’m sure, a million thoughts run through our heads. She was almost raped by her stepdad tonight, and in turn, I shot and killed him.
And I don’t regret it.
“Lorenzo,” she says after a few minutes of standing under the hot water. “I … I need you.”
“Baby,” I coo, pulling her into my arms, “I’m right here.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I need you inside me. I know it sounds crazy since I was just almost raped, but I can’t get him out of my head. His grimy hands on me.” She visibly shivers. “I need to replace what he almost did to me with something good … with you. Please.”
Her violet eyes plead for me to understand, to go along with what she wants, what she needs, and I know in this moment, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give this woman.
“You never have to beg for me to be with you,” I say, having a seat on the bench. “I’m yours … whenever, wherever, always.”
She releases a sigh of relief and then walks over to me, stepping between my legs.
Her fingers delve into my hair, and she tugs on the ends, tilting my head back.
And then her mouth comes down on mine, her lips gently caressing my own, like she needs to take this slowly to burn every detail of us together into her brain to replace the memories of earlier.
And since I have all night, I let her take control.
We kiss like that for several minutes, the hot water fogging up the area, our mouths tangling, our tongues stroking one another. And then Vanessa reaches between us and takes my cock in her delicate hand, wraps her fingers around it, and begins to gently tug on it.
It’s already half-mast, but with her touching it, within minutes, it’s a steel rod. Without breaking our kiss, she climbs onto my lap and slowly—so fucking slowly—eases herself down.
I didn’t do anything to prep her since I’m leaving it up to her, so she’s tight, and as I stretch her little by little, she moans into my mouth, not stopping until the head of my cock is deep inside her.
“Lorenzo,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine, “I … I never want this feeling to go away. The way I feel when you’re inside me … I feel safe and”—she breaks our kiss, and her violet eyes, filled with tears, meet mine—“cherished. I feel so damn cherished.”
I frame her face with my hands. “That’s because you are, Wild Card. You are so fucking cherished and loved,” I add, needing her to know. “And no matter what happens, I don’t want you to ever forget that.”
She nods in understanding and then shifts on my lap. She’s never been on top before, so I let her do her thing, exploring what feels good. When she hits a certain spot, her eyes roll upward before she looks back down at me.
“Does that feel good for you?” she asks, always so damn selfless.
“Anything you do while I’m buried in your pussy feels good,” I tell her honestly. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on you. Take what you want … what you need.”
She uses my words as her cue to start riding me. Her hands go to my shoulders to help her move up and down around my cock, and our lips fuse once again, our tongues tangling. I glide my hands down her body, resting them on her sides, feeling every sway of her hips.
“Lorenzo,” she groans, “I’m so close, but I …”
“I’ve got you.”
I reach between us to find her swollen clit and press my thumb against it, and her pussy immediately clenches around my cock. I continue to massage her clit as she rides my dick, and before long, she’s coming all over my cock and taking me straight over the edge with her.
Vanessa stills, but makes no move to get off me. Instead, she nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck, and we sit like this for several beats, both of us coming down from our high.
“Is it always like this?” she asks, her face still hidden. “This powerful and all-consuming?”
I’ve been with a lot of women, and I’m not going to say sex wasn’t good with them. It doesn’t take much to get a man off. The parts on women are all the same—some bigger, some smaller, real … fake.
But it wasn’t until I was with Vanessa that I realized how shallow my relationship with Hillary had been.
Everything between us stayed on the surface, and maybe it’s because she was using me to help Enrique—my sister’s ex-husband—try to take down my family’s company, even though she swore afterward that she fell in love with me.
At the time, I thought I loved her, and even though she fucked me over, I did care about her.
But now, I can see and feel the difference.
What Vanessa and I have goes beyond our age gap, deeper than the fact that we’re at two different points in our lives.
She’s cut a hole in my chest and exposed my heart, and I’ve willingly given it to her.
And when she leaves—she will, and I’ll let her go—I’m not sure if I’ll ever find a love like I’ve found with her.
“When you’ve found the right person, it will feel just like this.”
And as I say the words, I’m torn between hoping I’m the only person who ever makes her feel like this and wanting her to feel this kind of love even if it’s not with me.