Chapter Six #2
Wow.
Zahra was standing there, glowing, in all the glories known to be bestowed onto a human being …
No.
That word seemed too small to describe what I was seeing … She was otherworldly; she deserved to breathe the same oxygen as gods and deities alike.
The woman before me was too good to be in this room full of undeserving parasites.
Anger bloomed within me.
The moment she took her eyes off me, I looked around to see she had not only caught my attention but everyone else’s, women and men, young and old, and she had barely even moved yet, barely even blinked; her presence was enough to demand the attention of all.
When the song started to play, I focused on her once more. I watched, astonished and taken with the way she seemed to blend in with the music, the stage, the instruments. She owned every bit of this moment, and it felt like my lungs had finally succumbed to my ill will.
Her hands moved in perfect sync with her waist, like the music lived in her veins.
My mind, at this very moment, registered the fact that underestimating Zahra was a sin one shouldn’t ever commit. I was convinced she could do … anything.
The way she moved. The way this woman moved—seducing the music, teasing everyone in this room without touching them.
I was amazed, dazed, proud … aroused.
I didn’t have the luxury of looking anywhere else. I felt missing a second of this would seem like cutting off the air I needed to breathe.
Her body spoke languages my mind’s reasoning failed to comprehend.
My lust was mixed with admiration and jealousy at the realization that I was not the only one she was seducing.
She was deadly. Like poison.
The poison—God—the poison was in the way she danced. One hip lift echoed in waves like a siren sound, a blessing, and a curse … My little witch didn’t come to bewitch; she came to speak, and listen, I did.
Almost like she had sensed my thoughts—those eyes locked with mine, taking her time with her movements, adding a bit of fervor that increased my need for her.
Those beautiful fingers felt up her hips to her waist, a silent message for me as she subtly reminded me how it felt to touch her like that, but her cruelty was a crime I was more than willing to forgive.
My eyes followed her movements, and my fingers ached to touch her; my body burned with need, and my cock hardened with obscene arousal, one I wanted to abolish but, at the same time, sate.
I was buried deep in lust for this woman, and I didn’t care.
My eyes didn’t leave her even after the dance finished, and Kareem, alongside everyone else, clapped like they had just witnessed and experienced the same thing I did.
I watched as Kareem walked over to her, taking her hand as he led her toward me.
The man’s grand laughter over something Zahra might have said had me turning my head away. If I didn’t look away, I might have stabbed him in the neck with a butter knife out of jealousy alone.
My growing rage flared when Zahra sat on his lap … in front of me.
The utter disrespect.
I ground my teeth, holding myself back from the vivid thoughts trying to dig their way into my brain as I proceeded to light a cigar, place it between my lips, and suck in the warm smoke until I felt the heat inside me.
I knew I had no reason to feel this way.
I knew I put a stop on our agreement to be sexual partners, but it didn’t erase how attached I had grown to her or the jealousy biting at my reserve inconveniently.
I should leave.
But I couldn’t. Not with her still here. Unprotected with different eyes turning our way, intentions clear in their gaze. I knew she could protect herself, but that did not erase the fact that she was the most careless person I’d ever met.
“You flatter me.” At the sound of Kareem’s voice and a movement from the corner of my eye, I turned to see his hand settling on her hip.
She made no move indicating the touch unsettled her, and I couldn’t help but look up, finding those eyes already on me, taking in my reaction as I blew out the smoke I had sucked in, detesting every second of my stay here. “What is your name, beautiful?”
“Zahra.” That voice I hadn’t heard for two weeks met my ears in a caress—the urge to grab her off his lap, pull her out of this damn event, and forget why I’d called it quits, tugged at me, but I kept silent.
“Zahra, I must say, you rival my wives. What would it take to wed you so you can dance like that for me every day? I have never seen a performance that spoke directly to my soul.”
This conversation was beginning to make my anger evident on my face. Who in their right mind would make a proposal like that? More so to someone they don’t know?
Kareem was careless.
I watched Zahra flatten her hand against his chest, and I had to remind myself that Kareem was old enough to be her father, and I needed him for other business.
But then Zahra responded to his proposal: “It would be most desirable to wed a man as generous as you are and a sin to deny such a proposal, but I already have someone who speaks to my soul, just like the music did.”
I was quickly reminded of how easily she’d had me fooled by her relationship with my brother. I remembered why I broke things off, and I looked away from them, already deciding to leave; her safety wasn’t—
“It is a shame. Your someone is fortunate. They should kiss the ground you walk on. If they don’t, you should leave them.”
She laughed like she was thinking of that someone. “If only that were possible, Kareem. The man in question complements my being; you can’t leave someone like that.”
And then there was a subtle tightness in my chest, remembering how I’d said those exact words to her.
I looked toward them again and found her gaze on me, her eyes for the first time showing a little bit of vulnerability, a silent plea that showed she was talking about me …
but this was the last thing I wanted; everything was going as planned.
This was a distraction; one I couldn’t afford. Not right now.
I looked down, blinking back my focus onto what mattered. It wasn’t my heart; it wasn’t my need. It wasn’t my lust. It wasn’t her smile. It wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her presence. It wasn’t her.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marino.”
My focus zeroed in on their conversation, and I realized I had been introduced.
“Hm,” I said, barely lifting my head or reaching her gaze.
“What did you think of the performance, Marino?” Kareem asked.
“Good,” I devalued.
I tuned out the rest of their conversation, only muttering an acknowledgment when Zahra spoke to me, and ignoring the use of the word “sir” from her lips.
When she stood up to leave, I watched to see if any of the Street members were around the area to stay with her, but the woman had gone to the bar to get a drink.
I loathed how eyes tracked her movements like she was a specimen they couldn’t wait to get their hands on.
I could do things to those violating eyes belonging to men and women.
The gore the results would bring. Food to my deranged soul.
When I turned my eyes away from people looking at her, I found one of them already making a move to talk to her … They exchanged a few words … but her stance, her composure … Something was off.
When she glanced my way, it wasn’t a plea for help, but a glance saying, This can’t be happening.
Whoever that man was, she knew him.
She looked away from me and then back to him; I watched them for a few seconds before breaking contact when Kareem moved to shake my hand and thank me for coming to the event. And then, after a few exchanges, his attention was needed in another area of the room, and he left.
When I turned back in Zahra’s direction, what I saw had me frowning. The man was grabbing her arm with a gloved hand, and she looked uncomfortable.
I didn’t know how I’d been sitting watching them one second and was already halfway toward them the next.
“Is it?” The man bit the question at her.
“Vitale—”
“Problem?” My voice cut into whatever conversation they had been having, making Zahra flinch. The man dropped her arm. But his eyes were still locked on hers while she stepped back, looking as uncomfortable as I felt with this man still breathing.
“N-no problem,” she stuttered, her cheeks flushed, her previous composure completely deformed.
I watched the man pick up his drink. He was about two inches shorter than me, but when he removed his gaze from her and looked at me, his stare was leveled, unflinching, unafraid, like he had been expecting my arrival. “We were just having a friendly catch-up.”
I tore my gaze from him and looked at the arm of the woman beside me, the bruise from his hold tainting her skin, tainting my control, tainting the shred of humanity I had brought into this event. I didn’t hear or see anything or anyone; my focus returned to the man.
There were a thousand ways—more than a thousand ways I could kill him here and now—something quick, something sharp, something painful. The image slashing through my head tickled my brain; the anger flowing through my veins removed all rational thought.
Suddenly Arturo’s manor didn’t matter, suddenly I didn’t care about burning it all down, suddenly my goal in life was to kill this man, and I wouldn’t be okay until I did it.
I didn’t know what was happening; I knew Zahra was saying something to me and then to Vitale, who unfortunately turned his gaze from me. When I didn’t get out of my head, even after he raised his glass in mock salute, said my name, and walked away, I knew the deed had been done.
I watched him walk away, knowing there was no way he was getting out of this cruise alive.
When he was out of sight, I got out of my head just in time for Zahra’s voice to reach my head.
“He was Manu—”
I raised a finger, not bothering to regard her. “Do not…” I forced out, “speak to me,” I finished, turning to leave, but she reached out to grip my arm, and she was in front of me.