Chapter 15
I wouldn’t call it stupid
brOOKLYN
Santo Deluca needed to suffer. He needed to know a fraction of the pain he unleashed on those around him.
He may have been intelligent, but he was also manipulative and orchestrated evil at every turn without regard for the destruction he would leave in his wake. What he needed was to learn a lesson.
Luckily for me, I felt more than equipped to rise to the challenge.
And maybe it was sadistic, but it’d be a real pleasure for me. If I had disliked Santo Deluca before I had sat down for dinner at his table, then now I deeply detested the man.
My plan in a word—Vegas.
I lifted my phone from the nightstand and propped myself up against the headboard of my bed.
Brooklyn: We need to talk.
A significant amount of time passed before those three glorious little dots danced across my screen, and he replied.
EJ: Why, hello, Brooklyn. Nice to hear from you. I’ve been well, thanks for asking.
Useless information, considering this wasn’t a social text. It was a means to an end. As was he. EJ Gray—hedonistic fuckboy with a sterling, and bullshit, reputation—turned being a hardened and heartless shark into a lifestyle choice.
Brooklyn: Sorry. How are you?
EJ: I’m working, but you obviously have something to say, so what is it?
Working… In other words, had his feet poised on his desk, crossed at the ankles as he smoked a cigar and considered which woman in one of the dozens of Las Vegas casinos he would be getting a blow job from next.
To say I didn’t agree with most other women in their assessment of what a decent, good-natured person he was would have been this generation’s biggest understatement.
In every way, business included, he was like a phoenix.
No matter how many times he was stabbed, metaphorically speaking, he figured out how to rise from the ashes.
He was relentless, but he was also my ticket to destroying Santo, another man who stupidly thought he was indestructible.
Brooklyn: Answer your phone.
Texting was fine for the nice greetings, but it wasn’t going to fly after that. I had no intention of putting anything I was going to say in black and white. I wasn’t a rookie, that much was for sure. So, I didn’t hesitate in clicking over to dial his number.
“Hellfire. Miss the sound of my voice?” For as much as he smoked, his voice was smooth. And disgustingly aloof.
“New nickname?” Amusement entered my tone as I leaned forward, placing a hand on my ankles, waiting to hear what he had to say. Truthfully, I would have argued it was better than the ridiculous one he’d previously had for me. Brookie.
Silence pounded in my ears, louder than most concerts. I didn’t really need a response since I couldn’t have cared any less.
My expression blank, I cut to the chase. “I’m coming to Vegas.” I had far better things to do with my time than converse with the likes of him.
“I’m busy.” Frigidity entered his voice, and it suddenly felt like he was sending the Arctic through the line. “You’ll have to find another man—”
The pause could only mean he was multitasking, just as I had suspected, exhaling a drag he had taken.
“—to get wasted and try to marry you.”
Rolling my eyes, I reached over to grab the bottle of body cream from the nightstand. “I’m engaged.” It seemed he didn’t keep up with the news from New York. Figured, though. If it didn’t somehow directly affect him, he was the picture of disinterested.
Gasping, I could practically hear the intrigue consuming him. “Oh, to who? I should send my condolences.”
“Marco Deluca.”
He released a long, high-pitched whistle that I was sure only filled the air with a plume of smoke. “So, what do you want from me, Brooklyn?”
Placing my phone between my shoulder and my ear, I cursed the fact that I couldn’t put it on speaker.
I couldn’t risk the chance of Marco hearing something.
Not that it was entirely likely, unless he was roaming the halls, but still, I preferred to be cautious.
“I want you to tank the deal with Santo,” I said, dropping my voice for the same reason.
Squeezing cream into my hand, I leaned down and struggled to lather it on my legs.
“Trouble with the in-laws so soon?”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m serious.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not doing that.” Apparently, it was time for another hit. “You’re obviously missing some of the key facts because I called him.”
Leaving it as it was mid-leg, I furrowed my eyebrows. I didn’t remember EJ being this dense or, frankly, incompetent. “I don’t care.” I wasn’t sure how many ways I could say that, but I would try all of them if it meant I would get through to him.
He sighed, the noise sounding like he was checking out, which he wouldn’t be doing anytime soon. Not on my watch. “I want him to invest, so why would I be stupid enough to do what you’re saying?”
Clearly, he needed a push in the right direction. Never mind. He didn’t need a push. He needed a full-on shove. Fortunately, I was happy to oblige. “I wouldn’t call it stupid. I’d call it rather sweet actually.”
When crickets entered the chat, I decided to explain my rationale. “You continuing to protect your father and all.” There was a certain fondness I had knowing I wasn’t the only one who had a rope of blood obligation wrapped around their neck.
“What are you talking about? Have you taken a blow to the head?” He seemed stoic, but I wasn’t entirely sure why.
“I’m just thinking about that hidden thumb drive you kept for your father. You know, the one that has incriminating evidence on him. The one that would implicate him in—”
“Fuck, Brooklyn. Stop.”
I didn’t mind not proceeding. In fact, we didn’t need to get into the details about how I had the drive.
The way I had obtained it was by no means illegal since I’d had access to his office.
He’d left to grab a washcloth so we could clean ourselves up, and I’d made myself busy.
“So, you know what I’m talking about?” Having damning evidence on someone was never a bad idea, in my opinion.
“Do you know what you’re asking of me?”
Well, I definitely wasn’t asking for anything extreme like his sperm.
“The trip is just a formality.” I proceeded with applying lotion to my legs like I’d wanted to, finally succumbing and plopping the phone on the bed next to me.
He couldn’t have much more to say after this anyway.
“That greedy son of a bitch will, no doubt, want in, so tease him, and then tell him to kick rocks.” I really didn’t think much on the details, nor did I care.
He just needed to hear me out and do it. As simple as that.
“I’ve only ever regretted sleeping with one woman, and you are her, Brooklyn Briggs,” he replied, malevolence shining through. The power that typically laced his words was absent, though.
He couldn’t see me, but I still placed a hand on my chest, my mouth falling open slightly as I feigned hurt. “Aw. You wound me, EJ. I was hoping the memories of that night hold a special place in your heart.”
I hardly got the last word out when he hung up, probably wishing he had done it a lot sooner. I knew if I were him, I would’ve.