Ruthless People (Ruthless People 1)

There was no doubt in my mind that he knew what to do and how to do it. He was a force, and I wouldn’t have minded, if he hadn’t come into my house and tried to make me into his little Stepford wife.

In the pool, I shivered, but I needed to try to escape him. I couldn’t, though. He was there pushing his way to the front of my mind. I hated him. I loathed him. I lusted after him, and it made me angry with myself. Even in the cold water, as I swam I felt him pressing against me. I felt the electricity of his hands, his sensual tongue. I couldn’t deny that I wanted him.

I would have to figure out how to have him and, at the same time, make him understand that I was not surrendering to his will. Not even close. It was my choice. It was going to be animalistic and wild and a way for me to wind down.

When I finally came back up for air, there he was, the object of all my anger, rage, and lust sitting poolside in a fresh suit with a bandage over his leg—a leg that was resting on my pool chair. Rising out of the water, I reached for my towel while his eyes raked over my body.

“See something you like?” I asked, squeezing the cold water from my hair.

He frowned. “Sadly, yes, but it’s an illusion. The moment you get close, it turns into a ruthless savage and shoots you in the thigh with your own gun.”

“If I turned into a ruthless savage, it was only because another ruthless savage stepped into my arena. If you came for an apology, look elsewhere. Now, get the fuck up,” I said.

Glaring, he got up. The moment I sat down, he grabbed my hand and I saw in his eyes that he felt whatever spark it was that coursed through us. He leaned in, catching my gaze in his own. He stopped just inches from my face before I heard a click near my wrist. Looking down, I saw that he had handcuffed my wrist and my ankle to the chair.

“After that display earlier, I believe you need a time out.” He chuckled, kissing my forehead like I was some pet or child. “You were swimming so long you missed dinner, so I did you a favor and brought you some.” He pointed to the dish that was only attainable with my free hand. “I will come to get you in the morning.”

“What makes you think I can’t pick a lock you son of a bitch?” I sneered, pulling on the damn handcuffs.

“I filled the locks with cement. You can’t pick it love, believe me, I’ve used them before,” he said, brushing the side of my face. “If you ever hold a weapon to me again, Melody, I will handcuff you fucking upside down and underwater.”

He kissed me again, this time on the mouth, and with my free hand, I slapped him across the fucking face. His head snapped to the side before he turned back to me and winked. Smug, sexy bastard. With his free hand, he slid an obnoxiously large diamond engagement ring onto my finger. He let go and grabbed a few more towels, dropped them over me, and walked toward the exit.

“Say you’re sorry and I will free you now, love, and then we can start anew.”

He was trying to break me, the fucker.

“Fuck you and the Audi you drove up in.”

Frustrated, he ran his hands through his hair before shaking his head. “We will talk later, then. Eat. I wouldn’t want to bring you home to my mother sick. I will make sure the room stays warm. I sent everyone else to bed for the night. Goodnight, wife.”

“Fuck you, fiancé,” I said, leaning back in the chair.

I was fine until he turned off the lights and shut the door. He didn’t know. No one knew except for my father. I had an irrational fear of the dark. Even though there was still the dimmest light from the pool illuminating the small area, I could still feel the fear creeping up my spine.

There was no way in hell I was spending the night here. Sighing, I tried to calm myself before pulling the chair and myself to the edge of the water before jumping in.

I was going to get out of this tonight, even if I had to break my hand to do so. Hopefully, the chair would break against the walls first.

Either way, he would not win.

SIX

“Murderers are not monsters,

they’re men.

And that’s the most frightening thing about them.”

~ Alice Sebold

LIAM

“Have I taught you nothing?” my father asked, his voice a pitch above a whisper as I read the files on the desk before me.

“No father, actually, you have taught me quite a lot,” I replied before I took another drink of Orlando’s horrible brandy. “Why do you ask?”

“Do not be coy with me boy. What happened between you and Melody today was unacceptable. You beat your wife—”

“She is not my wife yet,” I said, smashing my hand against the oak desk and rising from the chair. “This woman, this Melody Giovanni, is insane, borderline demented, and she took a swing at me. It escalated, and then she . . . she shot me through the fucking leg!”

Sedric glared, his eyes blazing as he stepped forward. “As she should have. You had no right to interrupt her. If the tables were reversed, what would you have done?”

I would have killed the person slowly.

“You cannot possibly be on her side. You should be on my side.” I almost wanted to laugh at the thought. “Imagine if it had been Mom, or Coraline, or Olivia. What would you have said to them if you saw them act as Melody did?”

“What are you? Four? I am on the side of the family, as you should be. It was not your mother, or Coraline, or Olivia. It was Melody. Melody, who will become your wife in less than seventy-two hours. Make peace with her.”

Seventy-two hours? “Why in the hell are we getting married in three days?”

“So you don’t kill each other before the week is out. The press has been notified, and by morning, the world will know. Every gossip column, every news outlet, and every damn mafia member in the world will know the Giovannis and the Callahans are one. This means you two will have to pretend so fucking well, you fool yourselves that this isn’t just some arranged marriage, or so help me God, I will set you both on fire.” The fact that my father, Sedric Callahan, had just raised his voice and cursed in the same breath was proof enough he was serious. He had set a man on fire before . . . two actually.

Taking a seat once again, I turned and stared at the roaring fire that lit Orlando’s office. This day had not gone how I planned, and while my bones were aching for sleep, my mind could not stop racing.

“Son, do I approve of what Melody does? No. I do not, and that is because of the simple fact that I was raised differently. And by a man much more controlling than myself. The strongest survive, however, and the key to survival is to evolve with your environment. We have made so many strides. No longer are we just uneducated thugs with guns. We have evolved, the mafia has evolved, and now it’s your turn. Melody Giovanni is your evolution, embrace it and make peace.”

It was only when the door shut after him that I allowed myself to relax. I filled my mouth with the horrible brown liquid in my hands, but even that didn’t help my mind drift from the beautiful, dark-eyed woman who was to become my wife.

Our moment in the basement made my blood boil and other parts of me ache. She did not fight like a woman, but like a trained man, and the way she had looked—like a lioness about to rip apart her prey—made me want her even more. I almost had her on that damn wall, and she had wanted it. I had felt her nipples respond to me as they pressed against my chest through the thin material of her dress. Her eyes were begging, and her lips had parted for me as she held back moans of pleasure. Even her olive skin warmed beneath my hands. I would have taken her against that wall many times over and given her the pleasure we both hungered for, but instead, the wench shot me. She fucking shot me.