Covetous Page 2

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Present

  Four 1/2Years Later

  My senses were assaulted by fifty different colognes and perfumes at once. Men stood around donning suits while women posed like beautified statues, making robotic movements, too afraid acting naturally would mess up their hair. I wondered if they realized how ridiculous they came off.

  Based on the catty looks I was receiving from the girls my age; they thought the same thing about me.

  I didn't care; those snobby bitches were nothing but drama and headaches. I had never fit in with them. Every single one of those girls had always looked at me like I was some gross mucus infection. Compliments of Sarah Marshall. If she hadn't picked on my sister every day, we would have never had a problem.

  So, fortunately, I'd managed to slither away from anyone trying to drag me into a conversation that evening. Abigail, however, wasn't so lucky. My sister looked painfully bored, and Ms. Bransen didn't look like she was going to shut up anytime soon.

  That was my cue to get some fresh air. Being surrounded by people with plastic smiles and hidden motives gets old, fast.

  I caught my father's eye from across the room.

  He slightly nodded his head and smiled at me‑‑his way of saying he understood my need to slip away for a few minutes. The man was big on appearances, even more for family supporting family. If it weren't for that, I wouldn't have shown up. These events were nothing but illusions used to cover up what went on in these people's personal lives.

  I deeply inhaled a breath of warm summer air as soon as I got outside. It was beyond refreshing. The strong fumes from body sprays had started to give me a headache. Without hesitation, I began to walk towards the garden patio. Seth had used the Gordiva Venue so many times I knew it like the back of my hand, even in the dark.

  The sound of voices faded away, replaced by my little black pumps clicking across the terracotta. Tall southern magnolias rose up on either side of me. Tiny solar lights staked into the softened ground ran along the path and guided me along.

  I hoped this event was over sooner rather than later, or at the very least that I would be able to leave early. Being home in sweatpants, stuffing my face with junk food, and curling up with a good book was always preferable to getting dolled up and going out in public.

  My steps faltered just as I was about to reach the end of the trail. A man was leaning against the stone railing, looking out at the harbor. Why isn't he inside with the rest of the suits? In the ordinary mundane world, seeing a man in a crisp black suit was a regular occurrence. In my world, it was wiser to kick off your heels and run the other direction. So why did I walk towards him? Well, partially because I'm insane. The other reason was simple: his ass looked fantastic; I had to know if his face matched.

  Hearing my approach, he lifted his head and stood up to his full height before turning around. Seeing his face almost caused me to trip into the shrubs.

  My heart did a one-eighty inside my chest.

  If you’re wondering if it matched his backside the answer is simple. Hell yes! I didn't have a vast enough vocabulary to describe him.

  Tall, dark, and handsome was almost too literal. Though, he was tall; he easily scaled over my height of five-three. His hair was dark, neatly styled but at the same time messy, and he had a slight stubble on his tanned face.

  It had been almost two years since the last time I saw him, and he looked even sexier than before. How was that possible?

  "Rebel." Pierce greeted me with his usual steel indifference, raking his gaze over my body, slowly. My stomach did a little flip when he finally looked into my eyes. His were the oddest shade of blue – indigo, almost. I'd always been fascinated by them.

  The memory of what happened the last time I was alone with him came rushing to the front of my mind.

  I had made a complete fool of myself; just thinking about it caused my face to heat in shame. Part of me wished I could turn around, and pretend I never saw him.

  I'm sure the last thing he’d expected that night was the drunk seventeen-year-old girl he'd offered to drive home to try and seduce him. Thank the Lord for the small sliver of sobriety that crept in and had my ass planted right back on my side of the car. The silence had been embarrassingly loud, and his knuckles had gripped his steering wheel so tight I was positive he was going to rip it off. Not a single word was spoken between us.

  Before that little incident, he was easy to talk to. I looked at him as a sort of friend. He made me laugh without even trying, and he was unapologetically blunt. His blatant attractiveness was just a bonus. He could have been glowing purple, and I still would have been enamored with him. That stupid night had ruined everything

  I gave him a small smile and spoke before an awkward silence could further develop. "You're missing the party."

  "I was going to say the same thing to you," Pierce replied. He didn't return my smile. He had a coldness in his eyes and a natural edge in his tone. An awkwardness settled over us regardless, making me even more uncomfortable. I shifted in my heels and nervously tugged down my little cocktail dress. Why was I so nervous?

  I didn't have a problem with men. I know some girls had something done to them and sometimes developed a complex. I wasn't one of them. But for the longest time I never got natural desires. I'd thought something was wrong with me, that a sick bastard had ruined me. There were days I still did. But I never held all the men in the world responsible for the wrongdoings of one.

  When my father started doing more business with the Serbans, they showed up at more events, our house, dinners.

  And what did I do? I noticed Pierce. I noticed him in all the ways I shouldn't have.

  It suddenly dawned on me that he was only here because he didn't have a choice in the matter. His father had been murdered a month before this, and that meant he and his brother, Jax, had to step up. Now feeling like an insensitive asshole, I began to backtrack.

  "Shit, I'm sorry–"

  "And what exactly are you sorry for? My father's death?" His voice dripped with contempt. Despite his line of thinking, that wasn't what my apology was in regard to. I was all too aware of how little the words "I'm sorry," meant when you lost someone. I told him as much, but I could see he didn't believe me.

  "I'm sorry for what I did," my voice was small.

  I wasn't even all that sure why I was apologizing. He had probably forgotten about it, and I'd just brought it back up. He could take my apology or leave it, but I was done with this whole impromptu run in.

  I turned away from him and took maybe two steps before his hand wrapped around my bicep and turned me back around.

  "Wait." His voice was softer now, but I still detected an edge. "Why are you sorry?"

  His eyes bore into mine and heat traveled up my spine. I had never been able to figure out what it was about him that made me so flustered. Every time I got near him, I'd veer between irritated and fighting off wildly inappropriate lust. It was so fucking cliché to want the bad boy.

  "Why do you think? The night you took me home. What I did was wrong, and I shouldn't have done it." I could fill the pages of a notebook with why I was sorry.

  Pierce made a sound in his throat that could very well have been a growl, and let go of me, just to drag me into his arms a second later.

  I sucked in a sharp breath, causing me to inhale the unmistakable scent of his cologne. It was wonderfully citrus with a hint of aquatic and spice. I became acutely aware of just how muscular he was. His body felt amazing. My eyes darted around the garden, making sure we were alone.

  "I wasn't angry for what you did," he confessed, his tone still slightly edgy.

  I brought my attention back to him and blinked. What?

  "Yes, you were. I was right beside you," I tried to focus on his face and not the fact that his hands were dangerously close to my ass, or that we were still holding on to one another. His body being pressed against mine was bad for my psyche.

  Isn't it usually the man tha
t has the predatory instinct to claim a woman? That wasn't the case here. If he was a gazelle, then I was a starved lion.

  "No, I was trying not to pull over and fuck you on the side of the road." His blunt nonchalant statement may have made another girl gasp and blush down to her toes. It forced me to pull my lower lip between my teeth to stop myself from asking him to do just that. Seriously, what was wrong with me?

  This was Pierce Serban, my father's business partner in all things immoral, and I wanted to spread my legs for him.

  "I...I need to go." I found my voice and tried to push away from him.

  "I'll walk you back inside," he responded, not missing a beat.

  "I don't need you to do that." That's the last thing I need!

  "Well, then I guess it's a good thing I didn't ask what you needed."

  He removed his arms from around me and placed one hand on the small of my back. Knowing it was pointless to argue with him, I tried to speed walk up the trail. He easily kept pace with me and left his hand where it was.

  I didn't understand how he could make me want things I had never given a shit about before with a few words and one soft touch.

  "Here, take this." He abruptly stopped walking, reached inside his suit jacket, and retrieved a white business card.

  "Why would I need that?" I made no effort to accept his card. Instead, I took another look around to make sure no one saw us. I had been gone much longer than I should have been, and my father would make heads roll if he knew what Pierce had just said to me.

  "Because you're not a little girl anymore, Willow," he sighed. Is he implying...?

  "You want to fuck me. We're adults. When you're ready. Call me, text me. You can even email if you'd like. It's that simple."

  He explained this like he was giving me instructions on how to assemble something. Like I was an insolent child. My temper rose at his brash cockiness. I knew women threw their panties at this man left and right, but I wasn't one of those women. Sure, I wanted him, but I wasn't going to send a goddamn email for a booty call.

  "Are you fuc-" My sentence was cut off by his fingers gently touching my lips.

  "Excuse me, Rebel. I have someone I need to speak with." He slipped his business card into the top of my dress, placed a chaste kiss on my cheek, and walked past me. I was left staring at his retreating back, unable to call him every nasty word that ran through my head.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Present

  I watched the black bag free-fall through the air, landing with a soft plop in the lake below. All was quiet, minus that one small splash. Occasionally, I heard an owl.

  I'd already dropped the Camaro at Porter's for him to destroy. If Henry weren't such a fuck up, his body wouldn't be in different trash bags right now.

  Gators and piranhas wouldn't have a chance to feast upon his flesh. But, no point in pretending I cared about the dead bastard.

  I liked to think of myself as a reasonable man. Henry owed a fifty-thousand-dollar debt. I gave him forty-eight hours to come up with my money. He tried to run. Did he think I wouldn't be watching him? Money was not the issue. It was the principle: the glorified pussies that ran in the same circle as me, knowing not to fuck with me.

  It never bothered me that I was a killer. I was born to be who and what I was. I killed for the first time when I was eleven, pulled the fucking trigger without a second of hesitation.

  No one told me why the woman’s brains I blew out needed to die, and I didn’t ask. I was a Serban, and there was no room for hesitation or weakness when it came to carrying that name.

  One second of uncertainty could land me in a body bag, or at the bottom of a river. Like Henry.

  My father had groomed me and my brother, Jax, to be his perfect prodigal sons. He never let too much time go by without telling us how damn proud he was of us. Jackson Serban was a powerful man. He had just as many connections you didn’t want to cross as he did enemies waiting to put a bullet between his eyes, and someone had.

  Now, Jax and I were responsible for carrying on the "family business": upholding the Serban name. It happened much sooner than anticipated but you couldn't put a time stamp on death. It didn't sit on its ass and wait for you to decide when you were ready to go.

  As I walked back towards the Range Rover waiting for me at the top of the hill, my mind went back to earlier in the night. I was fine outside alone.

  All I needed was a minute to get my shit together before I started a blood war with Seth Borgia. Jax had remained inside to schmooze his way around the room.

  My brother could charm his way in, and out, of anything or anyone.

  Of course, while I knew Willow was going to be present this evening, I didn't expect to have our little run-in. I remembered the night I drove her home vividly. How could I forget it? Women threw themselves at me left and right. An inebriated seventeen-year-old girl, however, had been a new one.

  The only thing that stopped me from spreading her legs and fucking her on the hood of my car that night was my one tiny piece of humanity I'd somehow managed to hold onto.

  Seeing her tonight had what was left of that humanity disintegrating.

  The little black dress she had on hugged her lithe body like a second skin, clinging to an ample chest and cinched around a perfect plump ass.

  She'd always had an exotic look about her. Dark, silky hair, dark eyes, and flawless olive skin.

  She was fucking perfection. My cock had instantly reacted when she pressed against me. It wasn't a gentlemanly thing to do, to stare at a beautiful woman and imagine her bent over with your hand knotted in her hair. But then again. I may have worn suits and ties, but I was far from a fucking gentleman. It was all about appearances. The first rule in being respected is to look respectable. Simple as that.

  "Sir," Ivan greeted me with a curt nod as he pulled open the back door of the Range. I greeted him the same way and climbed inside. It had been a long fucking day.

  It was already a quarter past midnight. I needed a shower to get the blood off me, a stiff drink, and a warm mouth.

  In that order.

  I rested my hand on my chin and watched Rebecca's head bob up and down on my cock. Her red lips puckered, she placed soft kisses on the tip and made a cooing sound before swallowing me whole. I furrowed my brows. Was that supposed to have been sexy? Was this some new technique?

  "What's wrong?" Rebecca popped my dick out of her mouth and frowned as it wilted beneath her stare.

  I scoffed in disgust, staring at the saliva she had yet to wipe from her chin. This was low, even for me. She was far below my standards. I should have called her sister.

  "We're done here. Get up." I pushed off the pool table, tucked my flaccid dick back in the safety of my slacks and adjusted my cufflinks.

  "What? Why?" She wiped the back of her mouth with her arm and adjusted her skirt before standing up.

  "It's a dick, Rebecca, not an infant. You don't coo at it." I grabbed her forearm and began to lead her back through my home. We had been in the game room. I never invited whores into my bedroom, much less my bed.

  "I'm sorry, let me–"

  "Did you not see it deflate? My dick is traumatized," I cut her off, practically dragging her along now. Her heels slid around on the dark marble floor.

  The word asshole reached my ears, snarled from her mouth. I sighed and shook my head. Why did she have to test me? This was the reason I never saw the same woman on a regular basis. They always fell into their feelings and fucking drowned.

  "You want to finish?" A small yelp escaped from her mouth as I grabbed hold of her hair and forced her to her knees. Rebecca peered up at me, brown eyes wide, pale cheeks red. She liked being treated like this. They all did. I'd yet to meet a woman who didn't.

  Too many times to count, I'd thought I was bringing home something sophisticated, decent, only to turn away for a second and turn back to find them with their tits out and ass in the air.

  "It's not going to suck itself, Rebecca." I didn't w
ant her anywhere near my dick, but like she said, I'm an asshole.

  She licked her lips and quickly removed my cock again, failing to seductively slide it into her eager mouth. We were in the center of my dark foyer. Only the moonlight beaming off the chandelier added light to the open space.

  I was impatient and wanted her out of my fucking house, so I took hold of her platinum blonde hair and started thrusting into her throat She gagged around my length, tears of sloppy mascara ran down her face. Yet, she still moaned in exaggerated pleasure on her knees before me. I focused on everything but her.

  I pulled out of her mouth and watched my cum land on her face. I had my dick put away and Rebecca on her feet and at my front door in less than five seconds.

  "You're throwing me out?" she screeched at me.

  "Rebecca, the day you spend the night in my home, unicorns will shit gold."

  I pulled open my front door and nudged her over the threshold.

  "How will I get home?" She whined. "Oh, right," I pulled out a few crumpled hundred-dollar bills and pushed them between her breasts.

  "Please escort her off my property." My security detail, Roger and Matt, both nodded, and I slammed the door shut. They never batted an eye at my behavior, which was wise on their part.

  I made my way to my bedroom and stripped my shirt off before I sat down on the edge of my bed. A sigh left my lungs as I ran my fingers through my hair. My life was a hamster wheel of pussy, murder, and money. When no one tested you, and fucking women was as easy as snapping your fingers, it wasn't hard to imagine why I was bored. Thank fuck that was all about to change.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It’d come to my attention that some people thought of me as vain or cocky—not that I gave a flying fuck. Nevertheless, I was neither. Confident, yes. Cocky, never.

  Men envied me. Women lusted for me. None of them knew the real me. Every time I looked in the mirror, the Devil stared back.

  Everyone wanted this power and my wealth, but no one had the balls to do what it would take to get it. None of them knew the things I'd done, the things I still did. Unforgivable, twisted things. I kept it all to myself, letting those demons haunt me day and night. No one needed to know what went on inside my mind, for intelligence and knowledge were two powerful weapons.