[ARTEMY]
Beyond the doorway, Avim and Brayden awaited me, their presence acknowledged with a nod before we embarked on a shared journey into my office’s confines.
Curiosity prodded my voice, “What’s the current status of Howard and Damian?”
A grumbling undertone accompanied Brayden’s response, “The business operations continue without impediment. Surprisingly, their competence remains intact. It seems their acumen is undiminished.”
Satisfied with this report, I acquiesced with a measured nod. The assurance that the enterprise’s machinery hummed along as intended provided a semblance of solace.
“Regarding the welfare of the women associated with the clubs?”
“With Raffaele’s absence and his cohorts in hiding, we’ve seized control of the establishments-his holdings included. Under Damian’s exacting directives, equitable treatment is being extended to the women,” Avim elucidated.
Brayden interjected, a thread of emotion lacing his words, “Those subjected to severe abuse are receiving the care they warrant. If only we held Raffaele captive. He’s the single malignant cog in this machinery now.”
“And any tidings from him?” I inquired, settling into the seat that awaited me.
In concert, their heads shook-a wordless negation that punctuated the lingering uncertainty.
The pent-up frustration within me surged forth. “I demand answers! Our pursuit based on the Black Club members’ information has led to an impasse. It has yielded naught.”
Reports indicated that Raffaele had sought refuge in Canada, yet by the time my operatives reached the supposed location, he had evaporated. Raffaele was a cunning adversary, a master of evading pursuit. His nomadic existence left no breadcrumbs to trace.
“We are exerting every conceivable effort, Artemy,” Brayden admitted, a weary swipe across his face underscoring his sincerity. “But remember, his influence mirrors our own. A Mafia figure, when resolved to disappear, becomes an enigma to locate. You are intimately familiar with this truth. Damian and Howard managed it once, and so did you.”
“I harbor no concern for his affiliations or endeavors. My sole conviction is that as long as he breathes, Rebecca and the unborn child are imperiled. His life force poses a threat. His death-his blood staining my hands-alone will grant them respite,” my words dripped with a lethal determination, every syllable fraught with menace.
“We are unrelenting in our pursuit, Artemy,” Avim affirmed, his tenacity matched by his gaze. “Michael possesses insights as well. Tomorrow, I’m meeting him to glean what information he holds, to discern how it can aid us.”
“Very well,” I muttered, my consent resonating with a subdued intensity.
“What do you intend to do with Milandro and Dalton?” Brayden inquired, his arms folded firmly across his chest.
At the mere mention of Milandro, an intense surge of anger surged through me, causing me to grip the table so tightly that my knuckles turned a ghostly white.
“Ensure their survival,” I forced through clenched teeth. “I require them alive until we locate Raffaele.”
Brayden shook his head, his expression grim. “Are you certain? Milandro is teetering on the edge of death, and Dalton isn’t far behind.”
“The details don’t matter; I need them breathing. Once Raffaele is in our grasp, their reckoning will come. A sort of twisted family reunion,” I snarled, my voice dripping with hostility. “They’re bound to relish that.”
After a deep breath, I released my grip on the table, allowing it to regain its composure. “You see, I’m not finished with them. Their hands are far from soaked in enough blood. Their suffering pales compared to what Rebecca has endured.”
I locked eyes with Brayden, my gaze unwavering. “By the time I’m done, they won’t even have the chance to beg for death. Even if they dared.”
Brayden arched an eyebrow, his expression almost sadistic. A sinister smile crept onto his lips. “Now that’s the spirit. I thought you might be softening up. Seems I was mistaken. The madness in you still thrives.”
I shook my head in response to his misguided assumption. “Madness is my constant companion.”
Anticipating further conversation on that path, I deftly shifted the subject. Revisiting my past deeds wasn’t on my agenda; I had no desire to be haunted by those memories. I was a monster who had committed unspeakable acts without remorse, a truth I couldn’t deny.
But what truly gnawed at me was the looming question: What would Rebecca think of me once she uncovered the lengths to which I had gone to reach her?
“Anything else?” I interjected hastily, attempting to clear my thoughts and redirect the discourse.
Avim nodded, then proceeded to fill me in on the developments I had overlooked while tending to Rebecca’s needs. Damian and Howard had managed to salvage situations I had nearly sabotaged.
A knock at the door prompted a pause in Avim’s recitation. “Enter,” I called out, already acquainted with the identity of the visitor.
The door swung open, revealing Bernadette. She strode in and nonchalantly kicked the door shut behind her. “What did you want?” she inquired with a note of impatience.
“I need a word with Bernadette privately,” I announced in a firm tone. Brayden quirked an eyebrow but departed without uttering a word.
“Avim, remain outside by the door,” I instructed. He complied, exiting and gently closing the door behind him.
Gazing at Bernadette, I motioned for her to take a seat on the couch. “So, what’s the matter? Someone to eliminate? You could have relayed the name over the phone.”
“Disrobe,” I commanded.
Her mouth fell open, words caught momentarily before she regained her composure. “Excuse me?”
“I believe you heard me correctly,” I replied, my arms folded across my chest.
“Look, I’m no longer undercover at clubs, not a stripper, and I’m not your… partner anymore. So, no,” she retorted defiantly.
“My intention isn’t to engage in any sort of intimate activity. That’s not why you’re here. My interest in you has waned,” I responded dryly.
“I’m unsure if I should be insulted or relieved,” she fired back, her glare intense.
“It appears I must spell out my intentions,” I said, leaning forward.
With an eye roll, she quipped, “Please, enlighten me.”
And so, I did.
She burst into laughter. “You genuinely believe this could work?”
Her question caught me off guard, causing me to swallow hard and rub my forehead wearily. “This has the potential to go terribly wrong or yield favorable outcomes.”
“And if it goes sour?”
“We’d be back at square one. However, I’m banking on a positive outcome.”
“Alright, count me in,” she conceded. Bernadette shed her black jacket and shirt.
In her undergarments, she approached, and I instinctively shifted my chair back, creating space for her between my legs.
Exhaling deeply, I closed my eyes briefly. As she knelt between my splayed thighs, her touch sent a shiver through me. Panic and trepidation welled up within me. What if this endeavor went awry?
I clutched her hand, my voice low and menacing. “Do not touch me,” I growled, removing her hands from my person.
“Understood,” she mumbled.
Counting each second in my mind, I felt the weight of each tick as they accumulated.
When the sound of the door opening reached my ears along with Lynda’s voice, a surge of tension gripped my fingers as they tightened around Bernadette’s hair, pulling her head nearer to my lap.
I desperately hoped this strategy would yield the desired outcome.
With careful guidance, I orchestrated the motion of her head, mimicking the actions of her performing oral sex on me. My eyelids lifted, revealing Rebecca’s gaze fixed upon me.
A self-assured smirk curved my lips as I leaned my head back. My beloved Angel appeared frozen in place, her attention alternating between Bernadette’s bowed head and my eyes.
In that moment, I discerned what I had been searching for-an undeniable spark.
Within her captivating green eyes, a trace of anger flickered. Her hands sought solace on her rounded belly, attempting to soothe her unease.
The rhythm of her breathing accelerated, growing louder with each passing second.
An involuntary groan escaped my lips, a reaction I loathed displaying.
Rebecca’s head shook, and within her eyes, tears glistened. The sight of her pain pierced me deeply.
I ought to have been consumed by shame. Anticipating the searing ache in my chest, I found it there-a sharp pang upon witnessing Rebecca’s distress.
Yet, paradoxically, a surge of elation coursed through me. At least she remained responsive to the spectacle before her.
Another groan tore from my throat as I feigned climax, observing a solitary tear trace a path down her cheek. My heart shattered, prompting me to instinctively push Bernadette away.
She rose, approaching the desk, her hips invitingly resting against it. “Well, hello there,” she purred in a smoky tone.
Rebecca flinched, retreating a step. My suspicion was confirmed.
The reappearance of Avim at the door, witnessing Bernadette and me in close proximity, inevitably resurfaced fragments from our shared history. Distant memories of what we once were.
I merely hoped this maneuver wouldn’t alienate Rebecca further.
I glanced toward Lynda. She offered a nod and led Rebecca away by the arm, exiting the room.
Once the door closed, I straightened, facing the window, my muscles tense with suppressed turmoil. “I despised resorting to this.”
Fury compelled my fist into the wall beside me, my eyelids shuttering.
“If I’m entirely honest, it was extraordinarily awkward. But did you uncover what you were seeking?” Bernadette inquired in a hushed tone.
“Yes, I did. Now I must witness the aftermath,” I muttered, a heavy weight settling in my chest. My breathing grew labored, as if my lungs were constricting.
“I hope it yields the desired outcome,” she whispered before departing.
Remaining within the office for a few more minutes, I paced the floor, the image of Rebecca’s tear-streaked face refusing to dissipate. Fear and anxiety took root, constricting my every breath. Unable to endure it any longer, I exited the room, certain Rebecca awaited me in our shared quarters. I had explicitly instructed Lynda to return her there.
Pausing outside the door, a sudden wave of apprehension washed over me.
Frustration welled within, tied to the uncertainty of the situation. My hands clenched into fists, and I inhaled deeply, attempting to steady myself.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside, finding Rebecca seated on the bed. Her head snapped up as her shoulders tensed. Fear initially flickered within her eyes, replaced by relief once she identified me.
She stood, her fingers grazing her throat-a telltale sign of her nerves.
As our eyes locked, Rebecca’s chest rose and fell with heightened breaths, her anxiety palpable. Taking a step forward, I watched as Rebecca choked back a sob, retreating until her back met the wall. She shook her head repeatedly, fingers agitatedly massaging her throat.
Her visage crumbled, and silent tears streamed down her cheeks. My own steps carried me closer, but Rebecca’s motions signaled me to halt. Her eyes widened, and she struggled for breath.
“I… I… can’t… breathe…”
“Cursed hell!” I cursed, lunging forward. Swiftly gathering her into my arms, I lifted her and carried her to the bed.