Page 12 of Wicked Truths
Me: The date was a disaster.
Mother: Did you seduce him?
I stride up and down the driveway and shake my head.
Me: Seduce? He was getting a blow job from someone else.
I wasn’t going to tell her who it was from.
Mother: You need to do whatever it takes. His family has good connections.
Did she not read what I said?
Me: I need to talk to you.
Mother: We can talk on Monday. Steal him back.
My mother is pathetic. Ever since she became a de Luca, it’s as though she has lost her mind. I would never agree to her crazy plan if I wasn’t in such a dilemma...but I am.
I consider doing as she asks as I stand outside of the party house, but my eyes travel up to the bedroom where I left Con and Enzo, and one of them is staring at me from behind the curtains.
I need to get away from his house.
A horn beeps behind me and minutes later I am in the cab that came faster than I imagined, and is probably for someone else.
I think about Caleb, about going back to his house, but without Poppy it doesn’t seem right so I tell the cab driver my address.
At home, I pour a glass of champagne from the fridge.
My mother drank most of the bottle before she, and my stepfather left for their trip. The first glass is gone as I stand at Dom’s office door, pondering what information I could find that would pacify my blackmailer.
But after standing and staring at everywhere I have already searched, I stroll back to the kitchen and pour the remaining champagne in the glass. Then I grab a bar of white chocolate from my mother’s stash.
The house is too big, feels too empty. In fact, the more I think about it, it’s cold and sterile. White tiles on the floor, white walls with abstract artwork, apparently each piece costing more than a brand new car.
The furniture is expensive. But that’s because my stepfather is filthy rich. There’s a lot of old money floating around, but also an awful lot of mafia money, nicely cleaned and posing as his family’s multi millions—could be billions. I don’t know how rich he is.
But rich enough for my stepbrother, Xander, to be gifted a house and a fancy Range Rover for his seventeenth birthday. I study with Xander at Bond University. Not that I wanted to study at Bond. It’s too close to home. But my stepfather refused to pay for my acceptance anywhere else, but once I get my degree, or enough money, whichever comes first, I am getting as far away from here and I will never return.
I climb the winding staircase to my bedroom. There’s a grin on my face because my stepfather insists nobody walks in heels. But here I am. The thin heel of my shoes clattering against his pristine Italian marble steps. One after the other. And if I was brave enough, I would score the floor, scratch into the surface. It wouldn’t do much damage, just enough for me to know it was there.
But I’m not brave enough...at least not stupid.
Though, that’s something I need to consider.
Something shifts in the garden, sending gravel skittering across the pool tiles. The sound mirrors my heartbeat—or maybe my heartbeat mirrors the sound.
The security system hasn't been triggered. They never do. These sounds live only in my head, or so everyone tellsme.
I reach my bedroom, glance down the hallway, and listen out for the sound but only silence beckons, and my heart settles, knowing I’m alone.
Inside my room, I twist the lock on the door. A precaution I always take before I go to sleep. But this house isn’t where the monster usually is... He watches me in other places.
I turn on the television before I sit on my bed and sip on my wine. Opening the bar of chocolate and taking a bite as I open my social media app and check up on Con.
I still can’t believe I watched him being sucked off by Lorenzo Bianchi. I can’t believe he and Enzo have a thing.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
