9. Cassius
nine
A guttural, “Yeah?” comes through the speaker of my phone.
“Where’s my fucking car, Garrett?”
“Lot on Thurston Ave. It’s white.”
I hang up. The fucking cunt painted my car. I walk quickly, needing distance from Ruby. Composure is the only thing I have left, and I will not lose it in front of her. Two blocks later, I sink into the seats of my Impala. She may have painted it since the last time I saw it, but the interior hasn’t changed one bit. The leather still holds my impressions in its memory. The same way I hope Ruby’s pussy does.
I press my foot down on the clutch and turn my spare key in the ignition. The engine roars to life. Part of me wants to roar with it, the adrenaline rushing through me like a high I’ve never felt. I got close to the beast, so close I felt her juices dripping from my fingers, fuck she even splashed my fucking shoes, and I am still here. I survived to tell the tale.
I peel out of the downtown lot and onto the street, swerving in and out of traffic until the city buildings look miniature in the rearview mirror. The lingering scent of vanilla hangs in the surrounding air, strong and sweet. I pull down a country lane, empty except for the fallen autumn leaves.
Shifting gears, I push the speedometer higher, a single thought plaguing me. Why was that so easy? She’s a chameleon, a grifter, a woman of the shadows. A woman who’s never been caught. So how the fuck was Garrett able to find her so easily? And why was I able to trail her in the light of day?
Because she fucking planned it. Motherfucker . She wanted it. She wanted me. She still wants me. She really is the damn queen, and fuck me if that doesn’t turn me on more. Ruby only submitted because she herself wanted to. She let herself fall apart at my touch, literally. She could have killed me right there and honestly; I probably would have died a happy man with her tight pussy clenched around my fingers.
“Fuck!” I yell to the empty car, my voice carrying on the wind through the open window.
I pull the emergency brake and turn the wheel, spinning the car back in the other direction. A horn blares, and I swerve, barely avoiding a semi. Throwing my head back, I let out a maniacal laugh, and then dial Garrett.
“She wants me,” I tell him when he answers, but I don’t let him respond. “You said she has cameras all over my house, right? That Southern belle down to put on a show?”
Thirty minutes later I punch the numbers at my gate while Belle, whose real name is Cadence, considers my proposal. Contrary to popular belief, I am a gentleman so it’s very important to me that she understands exactly what she’s getting into, even if she doesn’t know the real reasons behind it.
“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, but I need to know now. I want to remind you that I don’t know who will be watching the feed, and I don’t know if it will be recorded.”
She bites her full bottom lip before nodding her head. “And if the video ever gets brought up in a way that hurts me or my reputation, Garrett will make it disappear?”
“Yes.”
Her cheeks lift in a sly smile. “And in return, you’ll get my sister and her kids away from her abusive husband?”
I nod. I don’t tell her that I would have done it without her help. Maybe that’s the difference between me and the gentleman I claim I am.
“Let’s go make a movie.”
Thank fucking god.