Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Colt
“Boss.” My head raises to find Jack standing in the doorway. He has a tablet in his hand and a smile on his face that could rival a patient from an insane asylum.
I haven’t gotten to know Jack all that much yet, having only appointed him a year ago, after that bitch took out my last second-in-command.
I’m still waiting a minimum of two years to see if he proves his loyalty, and his worth.
There’s no sense getting to know someone you're going to have to kill and dispose of later. Learned that one the hard way.
“What the hell! He’s twenty minutes late. Where the fuck is he?” I mutter to myself, getting increasingly more irritated as the minutes continue to pass. “If he doesn’t show up in the next two minutes, I’m going to walk.”
Constantly checking my phone, I wait and wait…
and wait some more. Two minutes passes and right as I go to step off the concrete stairs and head for the house, the sound of a sputtering exhaust echoes from down the road.
My eyes look to the noise in time to catch the most drop-dead sexy Ferrari as it turns into the lot and pulls up in front of me.
Glaring through the front windshield, I make out his shape with a shit-eating grin across his face and can do little more than shake my head.
“Well, what do ya think?” he calls over the roof as he steps out of the drivers seat. His arms crossed leaning on the bright red metal with the door swung wide.
“I think you’re late,” I remind him with an arched brow and my lips pressed into a thin white line.
“Oh, come on!” he boasts, throwing his arms out wide. “Surely, even you can appreciate the reason why!”
Nodding for me to get into the car, he climbs in himself and closes the door. The engine purrs as he presses his toes against the accelerator, revving it as if he’s egging on a competitor.
“Is this why you ditched last period? To run to the dealership and blow your first pay out?”
“Hell yeah, Babe!” He grins wide, leaning over the center console to wrap his hand around the back of my neck.
With a rough pull, his lips are on mine and every annoyed thought is wiped from my mind.
It’s as if all the air rushes out of my lungs and he’s there to replace it with his own scent.
The smell of his cologne, the coconut from his shampoo, and the new car smell has my cock twitching uncontrollably against my shorts.
I pull away just far enough to still feel his soft lips against mine, needing to now regain my bearings and adjust myself before we taint his new ride. “Let’s go, before my dad puts you on disposal duty for us being late,” I mumble against his mouth.
“Mmm. Babe, we’re not even late yet,” he whispers back, leaning in more to press hot, wet kisses against my pulse point.
My body shudders, as the already rock-hard cock I have, weeps for more attention.
Taking a deep breath—and vowing to check myself into a mental hospital later for denying the man—I press a hand against his chest and gently push.
“Maybe not, but if you keep looking at me like that. We most definitely will be.” Giving him a chaste peck, I lean back into my seat and buckle in.
He chuckles but concedes, righting himself in his seat.
His hand stays on my lap and as I intertwine my fingers with his, the most gorgeous man I’ve ever known gives me one of his heart-stopping smiles.
“Fine. You win. But only because disposal duty would mean being away from you all night, and that’s just something I’m not okay with.
” He winks, laughing some more but I can see the terror in his eyes.
He knows very well that my father would put him on disposal without hesitation, just for looking at him the wrong way.
Nevermind him being the reason we return home late.
My mind drifts and I bite at my lip as we drive the twenty minutes back to my house.
Caught up in thoughts of how to best express my affection towards this man tonight.
We haven’t said those words yet, but with how our times together have gone and how far we’ve progressed, I think I’m ready to.
Though, the mere thought of that has me shitting myself with unyielding fear.
I’ve always gotten what I want, never had to wait for anything, never been told no.
I could maim a man by eight, and murder by twelve.
Hell, there are more secrets in my head than the entire FBI database, and yet, the thought of saying those three words…
Confessing something so raw, so real, has me terrified.
What if this is the one thing I so desperately want and can’t have?
The drive back today was quick, too quick, as we pull into the drive and the steel gates open for us to pass through. My hand, still wrapped around his, squeezes tight before releasing his grip. A quick pat, or hand grip are the only forms of affection we can show each other now that we’re home.
My dad doesn’t know about us, hasn’t for the six months we’ve been dating.
Truthfully, I don’t think he even knows that I’m gay.
He’s always been too focused on the next trade deal or debt to collect.
Unless he’s got a job for me to complete, or is inquiring about the status of my grades, we rarely communicate.
“Babe,” I call out as we park and he kills the engine.
“How would you feel about announcing us tonight, to my father?” My teeth pull my lip between them, anxious as all hell about this idea, but I don’t want to hide my relationship with him anymore.
I want to be able to touch him, hold him and, god forbid, kiss him in my own house.
But what if he’s not ready for that? Oh, god. What if my father doesn’t take it well and it puts a wedge between us? Shit! I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just waited until—
For the second time within the hour, my thoughts get up and file out of my head in an orderly fashion as my hunk of a man kisses me stupid.
Only pulling away once he feels my body physically sag in relaxation, he presses his cheek to mine.
The slight stubble he’s developed scratches against my skin, erupting a heat within my core as his lips float against my ear.
“I would love that,” he whispers, before licking a line across my jaw.
“What is it, Jack?” I mutter curtly, the clearing of his throat having pulled me from my memory.
My hands steeple on my desk, waiting for the man to continue.
He better hurry up, because I have a headache beginning to form and after the unwanted memory recall, I’m about two reasons away from giving someone a dirt nap.
“We uh, we found her, Sir. Addison. However, she’s now going by the name Mikayla Arnet. She’s finally stopped moving and seems to have settled in Miami, Sir.”
My eyes pop open and my head snaps his way.
Headache now completely forgotten. I hold my hand out for the tablet, waiting while Jack pulls up the necessary files before placing the electronic device in my open palm.
The screen flashes, a security feed from a local boutique showing a young woman in a sundress walking past the window.
Stopping to look inside the display, before continuing on.
“Gotcha,” I whisper under my breath. A grin forming at the edges of my lips.
Addison Grant. My prized pupil. The only one to ever survive more than a couple of years.
And the only person to ever escape me. She knows entirely too much, has seen more than I care to show, and I’ve been hunting her for the past year.
She killed my men, broke out of my compound, and disappeared like a scent upon a breeze. I can not have that.
“Have her followed. Send our best men,” I order and with a single nod, Jack turns to leave the room. “And Jack?” He stops, hand on the door handle and crooks his head to look over his shoulder at me. “Make sure they remain unseen this time.” Another nod and the room plunges again into silence.
My attention turns back to the grainy image on the screen.
It’s blurry, and the sun glares at an awful angle, but it’s unmistakably her.
Those green eyes that hold an entire lifetime of darkness which I only just began to unleash.
She was meant to be my greatest achievement, my hidden weapon, and I thought I had broken her enough to be molded to my needs.
But on top of all the rest of her skill, that little viper of a woman is also a grand actress.
“I will bring you back, my little temptress. And this time, you’ll never leave me,” I boast to myself, a dark grin upon my lips and ring in my pocket.
She will be mine again, and if not mine, then no one’s. This time, there will be no mistakes or feigned loyalty, she will be by my side, legally and otherwise. I will have her complete submission, or I will burn everything she’s ever touched, and leave her six-feet under.
Standing up and rounding my desk, I head out of my office in search of a distraction.
This whole mess with that little bitch has had my blood pressure rising steadily for months, and what feels like a near constant headache beating against my skull.
The last time I had gotten this worked up, was nearly three decades ago, and anyone who was around at the time could tell you, it didn’t end well.
“Babe. I couldn’t even imagine doing this with anyone else, but are you sure we can really trust her?” I ask for what feels like the hundredth time.
“We’ve checked her background, looked into everyone she has ever spoken to, and kept her here—isolated from everything—for the last six months. What’s left to be unsure about Colt? Are you having second thoughts? Do you want to back out?”
I’ve been going around and around with those same questions multiple times over the last year or so.
Ever since we decided to start a family, my gut has been twisting and turning at the thought.
Dad says it’s just cold feet, that it will go away once I’m able to hold our son or daughter, but I’m not so sure.
“No. Yes. I don’t know,” I confess. “There's just something about this, about her, that has me feeling on edge.”
“We talked about this though, Love, remember? It’s just your nerves. You’re the one who didn’t want to foster or adopt. This is the only other way,” he says while wrapping me into his arms.
There’s love swimming in his eyes, his heart beating with a steady rhythm.
No doubt, no fear, just a strong determination to see this through.
He’s also right, I’m the one that refused adoption and fostering, wanting—no, needing—my future heir to be at least part of one of us.
It was my idea to start a family, my idea to have a baby.
“Okay, let’s do this then.”
If I only knew that I would come to regret those five little words. One sentence that unknowingly lit the ignition on my life.
When I started noticing his absence more and more at the beginning, I tried to convince him of any other ulterior options.
We could pay off a doctor to keep his trap shut and fertilize the bitch that way, so he wouldn’t have to keep touching her repeatedly.
He never went for it. Kept on saying we didn’t need to waste manpower on having someone constantly tail a single doctor around.
I proposed we gave said doctor a permanent nap after he was done. But he again fought me, claiming that our chosen incubator would inevitably need check-ups and blah…blah…blah.
I saw the logic behind his statements, and even agreed with a couple, but at the time I never saw what was happening right in front of my eyes.
Sure, maybe it was my love that blinded me, but when he offered to do all of the work and I could just reap the rewards, I never batted an eye.
See, through my teenage years I’d played for both teams.
It never was a secret that I’ve reveled in my fair share of pussy.
As the son of the most feared man in Buffalo, guys and girls would throw themselves at me.
A constant flood of groupies that followed me everywhere, begging to be in my good graces.
Some hook-ups were worth multiple nights, others should’ve stayed in low lighting, but at the end of the day a hole is a hole.
Doesn’t really matter who it’s attached to.
It wasn’t until junior year that I’d been swept off my feet and taken off the market. Him and I vowing our unconditional love, and coming out to my father, that night six months in. Our decision to have a real family came less than two years later.
Originally we were both going to fuck her, since we didn’t care which one of us the child originated from.
Our love was all that mattered, that, and producing an heir.
My trepidation of the situation is what made him take the reins, making it seem like he would bite the bullet for us and do all the work.
It took four months of constant fucking to get the slut we had chosen pregnant. Four months where I satisfied myself, masturbating into my hand like a puberty-ridden teenager, or to just go without.
“I’m sorry, Love. I just don’t have anymore in me tonight.”
“Colt, maybe tomorrow, okay?”
“Sorry, Babe. I’m exhausted. I promise I'll make some time for just us.”
Night after night, he gave everything he had to her.
All of his energy: her.
All of his semen: her.
All of his love: fucking HER!
I thought the day that tiny little white stick read pregnant, it would finally be the end. I would have my handsome man back to do with as I pleased, wherever I pleased. I’d had enough of “sharing” him with the bitch, even if it was for the sake of having a child.