Bad Dream (Dark Dream 0.50)

Because Aida wasn’t just some pretty, vapid little trinket I was playing around with for fun.

I didn’t have fun.

I had purpose.

And my purpose with the older woman was simple.

As soon as Ricardo Stavos, the private investigator on retainer with our law firm, Lombardi & Ghorbani, came back to me with evidence of her association to the Constantine family, I’d known what I would do.

Use Lane Constantine’s mistress against his widower, Caroline Constantine, and her entire pathetic brood. Because if there was one thing that bitch hated, it was public humiliation.

Aida’s death could have derailed my plans, but then there was her daughter, responsible, martyr-inclined, little Bianca begging me for help.

She was placing herself, wrapped up pretty with a bow like a fucking birthday present, in my lap.

So, I’d take it.

She was only seventeen and her brother only seven.

They had no next of kin so far as I could tell, so both children would go into foster care, probably separated because kids often were in those cases, especially with such a big age gap between them.

I’d sweep in on my white fucking steed and scoop them up for myself. It wouldn’t be hard. When you had more money than Croesus and connections in every corner of the police force, politics, and business, getting custodianship of two brats would be a piece of cake.

I had no fucking idea what I’d do with two kids, but I could worry about that later. They were pawns in a game that started before they were born. And I would control them. Time was of the essence if I was going to strike before the Constantines found out Lane’s dirty little secret and used her toward their own ends.

Caroline could sniff out potential family scandal from across the fucking country.

“Of course,” I told Bianca, already pulling up my lawyer’s info to text her about the situation. “I’ll help you, little girl. But you should know, I’ll expect to be paid back.”

There was a choked noise through the phone, a sound of pain and shock, but also indignation. A smile played at the edge of my mouth. I enjoyed making her sputter and flush, her olive-tanned skin crimson at the cheeks and throat.

There was no artifice in Bianca. No grace or learned charms. She ate Lucky Charms cereal and read Marvel comics with her little brother on Friday nights. She argued passionately about climate change, nearly biting off my head for using a private jet and single-use plastics without understanding that environmentalism didn’t have enough economic merit to change the ways of the big dicks with big money who ran the world. She lost her train of thought looking at the way the dawn broke over the horizon and turned the clouds mottled pink and she sighed over the images of paintings she looked up in library art books. She wore oversized shirts that skimmed the tops of her thighs and chest-baring sports tops around a man who could eat her for breakfast as if she were safe in my company.

Clueless and naïve.

She would be even easier to manipulate than Aida.

Despite her youth and naiveté though, there was no doubt Bianca was strong-willed and smart. Aida bragged constantly about her daughter’s good grades, but it went beyond that. Bianca had gumption, something most women lacked when they were faced with my scarred face and cold demeanor.

She wouldn’t be as easy to manipulate as her mother, but something dark and hungry in my gut was excited about that. I wanted a challenge. I wanted to see Bianca’s stubborn chin wobble with tears and her eyes flash as I took her under my wing. Under my control.

Poor little thing thought I was her salvation when all I intended to offer her was ruination.

“I-I don’t have any money,” she pointed out. “Brandon and I…we don’t have anything… Anyone.”

No, but they would.

I’d give them my world on a silver platter and watch raptly as it gobbled them up.

“Hush,” I purred, a dark seed of joy blooming in my gut. “I’ll take care of everything. Did you call the police?”

“They’re on their way. I haven’t told Brando yet. He’s still asleep. I’m worried they’ll try to take him from me.”

“Don’t worry about that. Someone will be there shortly to get you two and take you to a hotel.” I had already texted my associate, Ezra Feck, to pick them up and get them settled. While his official title was my bodyguard, the truth was, he was more of an enforcer. He was also one of the only people I trusted with the enormity of my secrets. Elena Lombardi, my lawyer and the only woman I entrusted with the seedier side of the Morelli buisness, would be there in the next few hours. “I’ll be there when I can.”

“When you can?” she repeatedly dumbly. “My mother—your girlfriend—just died and that’s all you have to say?”