“Fuck you. At least I got paid. You whore around for free.” Her eyes widen and she shoots a look over her shoulder. Probably lost her cool and forgot about Vince. He must not be in the room, because beneath her fury, she looks faintly relieved when she looks back at me. “This is not happening,” she tells me.
“It is happening. It’s already done. I’m letting you know my expectations of you, and I know you’re smart enough not to disappoint me.”
“Oh, you know that, do you?” she asks, sarcastically. “Funny, I’m not so sure I know that.”
“Well, in the event you’ve forgotten the breadth of my reach, let me remind you that Mateo told me all about your past. I know Laurel has no idea what you resorted to in order to support her, but imagine how devastated she would be if she did.”
Eyes narrowed with more than dislike, Carly says, “You don’t give a damn about my sister, do you?”
Ignoring her, I go on. “For that matter, I would hate to have to tell Vince your secrets. Not the whoring part, obviously. The working for Mateo part. Much worse than whoring to him, don’t you think?”
Carly closes her eyes and covers her mouth with one hand, taking a breath. She knows I have her cornered. In an abstract way, she has known that since she came to Vegas and I let her know that I have access to all her dirtiest secrets. Didn’t think I’d actually need to use them, just liked fucking with her. Now I’m pretty fucking relieved to have dirt on her. I can collapse her whole life with just a few whispers, and she knows it.
For me, Easter was a vacation. For Carly, it was a trial she barely survived. I got to laze around in bed with Laurel, exchanging meaningless stories and orgasms, but Carly had to fight with all her might just to keep from sinking. Mateo was firing missiles at her life, and Vince was struggling to stay away from Mia’s siren call. Not that Mia had any idea she was doing anything to tempt him, of course. She merely existed, and that was enough. Mia doesn’t understand or have control over her powers, but damn, that woman really does pull people in. She nearly pulled Laurel in last night, and I didn’t think I had to worry about that. Mia likes me. She’s on my side (as long as I’m on her husband’s side, anyway). She just can’t help herself. People crave acceptance, even when they fuck up, and Mia wants to give it to them. Somehow she still hasn’t figured out how seductive that is to those of us who fuck up the most.
She’s only trying to be nice, but it’s damned inconvenient for the people who want to keep what she lures away with her endless well of love. Though I guess it would have been kind of funny if Mia had stolen my girl. I would have had to laugh. Her husband already yanked one from me years ago, so he would’ve found that pretty damn amusing, too.
Back to the task at hand, I focus on Carly. She still hasn’t spoken, so I go on. “This doesn’t have to be a disaster, Carly. Laurel can be happy here. I’ll take good care of her. You and I don’t have to be enemies, either. I’m willing to put all this behind us and start over if you are.”
Carly shakes her head, looking down instead of at me. “You have ruined my little sister’s life, and you’re willing to put it all behind us and start fresh. You Morellis really are a noble bunch, aren’t you?” she replies, scathingly.
“Look, I’m being nice,” I tell her, showing my hands in a gesture of innocence. “I don’t have to be. You have no power here. Sure, you could tell your sister you don’t approve and make this even harder on her than it already is, but that only hurts Laurel. It’s not going to faze me. I’m still going to keep her here; my life with Laurel will go on completely without a hitch. If you want to hurt your sister, by all means, react poorly tomorrow. It will piss me off and I will ruin your life as payback, but hey, if that’s what you need to do, knock yourself out. It won’t change a damn thing.”
“I didn’t think I could hate anyone more than Mateo for dragging you into my sister’s path to begin with, but I was wrong. You’ve topped my list.”
Clasping my chest theatrically, I tell her, “You’re breaking my heart here, Vivian.”
“I hope someone murders you. And not in a badass way, no blazing glory, something really lame, like… they inject some kind of slow-acting poison into your veins, and you drop dead surfing for porn on the toilet.”
Smiling, I tell her, “I don’t have to surf for porn; I can just go to my bedroom and look at your naked sister stretched prettily across my bed.”
Grimacing, she says, “So much hatred. An immeasurable quantity of hatred.”
Glancing out my front windshield, I tell Carly, “As much fun as this is, I have to hang up now. I just wanted to prepare you, give you time to work up a convincing performance. Laurel has enough to deal with right now and she doesn’t need to add your disapproval to the list.”
“What about school? Have you even considered what you’re going to do to her life, Rafe?”
“Of course I have. She’s having my child; what would you have me do about it?”
Shaking her head and lifting her well-shaped eyebrows, Carly says, “Not this.”
I could spend the next ten minutes repeating myself, but that wouldn’t do any good. Nothing I say will convince Carly this is a good idea, so I don’t waste time trying. “Talk to you tomorrow, Carly.”
I disconnect the call before she can say anything more, then tuck my phone away in my pocket and glance up at the exterior of the building I’ve parked in front of. I’ve spent far more time at this club in the past week than I would ordinarily spend anywhere connected to Cassandra Carmichael, but what’s one more visit? Grabbing the silver gift box, I exit the car and stride into the club Edmund Carmichael owns.
Upon seeing me, a flicker of confusion crosses the face of the first employee who recognizes me. I’d rather not be here longer than I must, so I stride up to her at the bar.
“Do you have a pen?”
The woman hesitates, then nods and reaches beneath the bar. Handing me a black pen, she asks, “Are you here to see Cassandra?”
“No. There’s a waitress that works here—college-aged, auburn hair, kinda flighty, not very good at her job, but nice. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”
The bartender nods. “That’s Marlena.”
“Perfect.” I uncap the pen and jot down the name on the card attached to the box. Putting the cap back on the pen, I drop it on the bar and push the box across the surface. “Can you see that she gets this, please?”
The bartender eyes me warily, drawing the box closer as it a bomb might be inside. “Sure, I guess so.”