Vengeful Eyes: A Cane Novel 3 Read online

  As my eyes grow heavy, I hear the catch on the door and Benjamin’s shoes on the marble of the lobby. I stand instantly and brush the skirt of my dress down, then pinch my cheeks and smooth my hair. And I wait.

  He storms into the living room, stopping abruptly when his eyes find me. A white napkin containing something dangles from his fingertips. He tosses it onto the console table. “A gift.”

  I take a step towards him and what he’s got wrapped up for me.

  “No. Knees. Now,” he snaps, pointing to the carpet as he seats himself in front of the spot he indicated. “I want your mouth and throat around me.”

  I step around him and lower myself to the floor. My fingers itch to touch him, to comfort him in some way, but I know that’s not what this is about. I work his belt free and lower his zip to release his semi-hard cock. He shuffles his body so I have better access to him. My tongue wets my lips as I stretch my mouth over the crown and take him into my mouth. He immediately hardens, swelling as I work him up and down.

  He gives me only a couple of seconds before his hands work into my hair. I know what he wants, and I’ll give it to him. The pressure increases on my head, and I swallow him deeper, touching the back of my throat. The burn and ache are familiar, but they don’t cause me to stop. I breathe in through my nose instead, trying to calm my racing heart. His hands hold my head down, and I work him further in. Saliva pools in my mouth and escapes at the corner of my lips as I fight to give him what he wants.

  I plant my hands on his thighs, feeling the strength and power in them to distract myself from the panic that’s encroaching. I know he’ll never hurt me, not more than I can cope with at least, but that doesn’t stop him from being the way he is: firm, demanding, and without apology.

  His small groan of pleasure is my encouragement. Knowing that I have some small amount of power over this man is heady. It increases my efforts, making me ache for his pleasure, but it’s only a power he allows in this guise. No more. And it’s always on his terms.

  Water burns in my eyes as I fight with myself to give him more. I suck in the air I need and fight him further into my throat, rocking back and forth to try giving him as much pleasure as I can.

  He comes on a grunt, no other expression, as hot liquid spurts down my throat and fills my mouth. I do my best to swallow, refusing to be anything but perfect for him, until his hands gentle in my hair, and I release the suction around him and pull away.

  I sit back on my heels and remain still, waiting for permission to move. He stares, ice cold eyes giving me nothing but emptiness until he leans forward and touches my face to wipe the tears from my cheeks. His fingers travel lower after a few seconds, rubbing the saliva and come across my lips harshly. Eventually, a chuckle comes from his lips, heavy with disdain.

  “Go clean up. I want you back here in ten,” he mutters, his hand waving me away.

  I head to the bedroom, half stripping my clothes and shoes as I go. Every scrap of clothing ends up in a single pile on the chair. I change into a lace balconette bra and thong and cover myself with a black satin robe. In the bathroom, I brush my teeth and wash my face, removing any trace of the streaks my tears made.

  As soon as I’m finished, I walk back out to join him. He pats the space on the sofa next to him, and I curl up beside him. Neither of us speaks for several minutes. That’s our norm. Benjamin isn’t one to wax lyrical about anything. If he talks, he’s purposeful and direct.

  “You have a present,” he muses, the tension in his voice evaporated.

  “Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

  He stares at me, undisclosed meaning in his eyes, and then nods at the table, encouraging me to the side of the room. I peel back the corner of the white napkin. My stomach rolls as I stare down at the two jelly-like orbs. Red tissue surrounds each eye with a bloody tentacle still attached. I cover it back up, blanking any reaction that Benjamin may catch from my expression, and go back over to him and take my seat.

  “He shouldn’t have looked at you. You’re mine,” he mumbles.

  “I know that.” My voice is level and calm.

  “Good. He didn’t.”

  I work my arm around to Benjamin's neck and start to thread my fingers through his short hair, trailing them down to the top of his tattoo at his collar to slowly remove his tie. It’s a process I repeat again and again, rubbing the tension from him until he lets out a deep breath and finally looks at me. The blackness in his eyes clears, resorting back to the midnight blue that holds a world of mystery I’ve still to work out.

  “I have some work to attend to,” he says, reaching for my hands to remove them. I know the deal by now, but it doesn’t mean the disappointment isn’t genuine to some degree.

  My head obediently nods, though, as he pulls himself from the sofa and heads to his office.

  And the waiting game begins again.

  My fingers pull open the fridge, looking for a sweet treat. I exercise enough to be able to indulge occasionally, and this is just the time. Mother always criticised my figure, but of course I was a lot less athletic when she was still alive. No matter what I did to try to shield myself from her venom, I couldn’t. Towards the end, treats weren’t something we could indulge in anyway, not when I struggled to pay medical bills and put any type of food on the table.

  The baked cheesecake sits on the second shelf, staring at me. Taunting me. I pull the plate out and grab a fork, digging into the creamy goodness. After tonight, I deserve something sweet. Those eyeballs are still in the other room. Benjamin won’t think to move them. He gave them as a present. That’s his own screwed up way of delivering respect. I’ll have to ask Torino to do something with them. I turn back to the dessert and take another swipe with my fork. And another.

  These are the times that test me the most. Being the dutiful mistress and never crossing the line of being too personal is trying. I’ve gotten that tightrope wrong on several occasions. In the early days when he first moved me in, I’d overstep—expect to be included, be too visible. He made sure I learned my lesson thoroughly through pain and threats. His polished position of power might be one he’s built over years of work—a public image, a face to the business—but behind the closed door, that can slip. The result is never pleasant.

  Knowing he’s here but I can’t reach him challenges the part of my brain that’s had to plan and manipulate my whole life. My nature doesn’t allow me to sit still or forget. I need drive and purpose in my life. Those can be difficult to come by when your life is ruled by another.

  Three years ago, when I first met Benjamin, I never anticipated he could change me, but he has. I have to stop myself sometimes when I find myself wanting to put his needs before mine, and not just for the obvious things. After all, the role of a mistress does have some specific duties, but it’s the other things, too—his happiness and well-being. If Benjamin can ever be considered happy.

  To hell with it. My frustration cracks.

  I cut a piece of the cake and walk over to Benjamin’s office. The door’s not closed, which means he doesn’t mind me interrupting. But before I can lift my hand to knock, I hear the name that’s haunted me forever. The name that focused the ambition and drive in my life. The name that brought me into Benjamin’s arms.

  Cane.

  “I don’t care. I want you both in New York, Cane. You started this. It's time to talk business.”

  I retreat, abandoning the surprise I had in store, and dump the cheesecake in the kitchen to rush to the bedroom and shut myself away. My heart rattles against my chest. After three years, this is the closest I’ve been. I may have had to play the long game by earning Benjamin’s trust, but I knew it would come eventually. Their worlds are too closely connected to avoid meetings forever. The Cane brothers. In New York.

  At his request.

  “Hope, what’s going on?” Benjamin walks in, tension in his voice. I can only assume he’s confused over the half-eaten desserts abandoned in the kitchen. He hates mess.

/>   “I thought we could have something to eat before bed, but I forgot something.” Improvisation is a must when you haven’t been entirely honest with your partner.

  I untie the knot at my waist and let the robe pool at my feet, distracting him from my thoughts, then unclasp my bra and let it drop before peeling my panties down my legs. I step forward slowly, like I’m stalking him. My hip brushes his leg as I go back to the kitchen to fetch the cheesecake. I put the remainder back in the fridge and turn to bring the slice back to him, but he’s not waiting in the bedroom.

  “You wanted to distract me from work with this?” He runs his finger through the soft, creamy filling and presents it to my lips. I open, sucking his finger clean.

  “I missed you.”

  The darkness in his eyes comes racing back. With a deft hand, he swipes the plate from my fingers, letting it smash against the floor before he grabs my neck, pulling me against him. His lips devour me, nipping and biting as he ravages my mouth. My naked skin rubs against the fine fabric of his suit. His hands roam over me, his fingers digging into my flesh as if he can’t get close enough to me.

  Without losing a beat, he unzips his fly, and I feel him bend to get the right angle to shove up inside of me. I lift my leg over his hip to help and feel when the tip breaches and pushes inside of me. My breath hitches, as it always does, and I moan out loud to increase his fervor.

  He backs me up against the wall and begins to push me around, shunting into me and making me pant. It’s immediately violent in nature. My arms wrap around his neck, holding on as tightly as possible as he uses me for what he needs. The intensity never lessens. When Benjamin fucks, it’s like he can’t help but act on buried feelings. He’s ruthless and brutal, angry even. Fingers dig into me, nails clawing for a more passionate grasp. It all sets me alight. His look. His touch.

  As he pushes me higher up the wall, I wrap both legs around him, giving him better purchase. Every stroke builds my own pleasure, the pressure burning through my muscles, ready to release.

  “Scream for me, Hope.”

  “Yes! I… please.”

  He sinks his teeth into my shoulder, and the hit of pain dissolves through me as my climax hits.

  “Yes! More… Yes!”

  My body goes limp against his, but he doesn’t stop. He holds me, using me until he finds his own release without care for my comfort or pain. It’s always the same until it's done.

  Our breaths mingle quietly for a moment when he’s finished. It’s such a snapped second of time, I barely have a chance to register it before he kisses me again, chastely, and lets me slip from his grip. He doesn’t hide it well enough. I imprint that second over and over again, just to remind myself of the power I have and can wield when necessary.

  “I should sleep,” he says, glancing back at me, a frown on his features. “Get into bed.”

  I nod, knowing he wants me with our sweat still coating my skin—another sign of possession. It’s his thing when he’s given me a moment of his heart. Not that he’d admit it.

  “Do you need your pills tonight?” I ask. He doesn’t sleep much, barely at all, and often relies on sleeping pills. He finally trusts me enough to prepare them for him. No one else, though.

  “Not after you.”

  I smile, happy to take the compliments when they come.

  Tomorrow, I’ll have bruises on my neck and shoulder, maybe my lip. It’s nothing compared to what he’s capable of, but it doesn’t matter either way. Regardless of taking my time with this relationship, building it into something usable, I know Benjamin Vico has become just as distracted with me as I am with him.

  Three

  A bustle of people hinder our route through the entrance. They fuss with their coats and jackets, all of them bothered about their never-ending façades in front of other guests. The boys push through them, shielding Hope from the knocks and glances our way. They’re good at that, especially Torino. He’s her guard. He doesn’t protect me; he protects her. He follows her everywhere, keeping her in his line of sight at all times until she gets back to the apartment. Only then does he leave her side.

  “You play nice tonight,” I say, taking her arm to guide her around another mob of guests who are leaving. “Make the women feel welcome in town.” She glances back at me, barely an acknowledgment on her face as she moves onwards, but she damn well heard.

  She hears everything I fucking say.

  “Of course,” she replies, nodding.

  “You ever met the Canes before?”

  “No.”

  I narrow my stare at her exposed shoulders as they weave through the crowds in front of me, wondering how true that is. She’s met a lot of people in her time, done a lot of things with a lot of people. They’re all people like me—criminals. I snarl at the thought, hardly able to leave behind the images that circulate in my mind, irrespective of her being mine now.

  “Hope?” She turns back, a small smile replacing the blank stare of arrogance she provides to the masses around her. “You be a good girl. This is significant.” She relaxes her pace to come back to me, a gentle hand hooked through my arm, plenty of those diamonds I’ve paid for on show.

  “I’m always a good girl for you.”

  My brow arches as I look at her lips forming the words. A good girl is the last thing she is for anyone else. It’s the way she is, the way I’ve forced her to behave around those in my company. She’s a bitch to most, certainly other women.

  I dismiss the way her lips curl up into another false smile for the rest of the world. That isn’t what my Hope Winters is. She’s real for me, a slice of dessert in the normal mundanity of business. Still, she pretends well to those around her, gives the impression of a loving partner when necessary.

  Danelo opens the main doors into the restaurant, his eyes glancing at Torino as he scopes out the building in front of us. He nods and holds out a hand to guide us through, Hope the only thing he’s looking at.

  “They’re at your table, Boss,” Danelo says, walking beside me. “No one’s had a drink yet.” Good. They can fucking wait until I arrive like everyone else does.

  “Anything particular you need from me?” Hope asks. I slide the beads around my wrist, thinking and twisting them back and forth. I don't know yet. Not entirely.

  “Quinn’s the boss. Nathan the accountant. You’ve read the file on the women and their backgrounds. Use it. Stay close to Quinn; make him interested in you. Carefully.” She nods and brushes her blonde hair over to the side of her neck, exposing those shoulders again. “Emily seems fragile. You should be able to manipulate him if I need that.”

  “Okay.” She knows the rules involved in that. No touching. Nothing I can’t hear or see. “And take the women shopping tomorrow.” Again, she nods and follows me to where I’m heading, her smile firmly in place again.

  The table sits up top in the far corner, a fine view of The Hattons restaurant spread out in front of it. It’s as private as it gets in here, and as informal as I need it to be tonight. It has a relaxed atmosphere, something that should make these Cane boys settle in nice and slow. I don’t know much of the accountant, only Quinn. He’s got good form but is known for explosive reactions. I don’t need that kind of old school delinquency to break my mould. New York is the polar opposite of his streets in Chicago, and my position is set above his. That tension between the brothers at his wedding means they’re an unknown quantity to me, something I’m not convinced is workable yet. Allies through dealings alone is not enough for me to let them loose on my streets. I need an offer tonight. A big one. Something to give me a reason for backing them through whatever shitstorm they’ve created with Yakuza.

  She walks in before me, my hand on her back, and assesses the women with a quick glance before going straight to Quinn’s woman. It’s like a fucking picture of perfection. She smiles and nods, and gestures towards the small private bar next to us. Nate’s woman moves in at the same time as Quinn stands and reaches his hand to me. Her eyes flash t
o the array of diamonds Hope’s wearing.

  “Vico.” I shake his hand and nod in return, turning for Nate as he stands, too.

  “You boys get through downtown traffic all right?”

  “Wouldn’t know,” Quinn remarks, looking at the women. “I was too busy fucking to give a damn about traffic.” Interesting. Not surprising. His woman is cute—boring, but cute. I swing back to Nathan, waving my hand at the bar and his woman. His is more than cute. Fuckable.

  “Shall we get a drink?”

  They both nod and follow me over to the barkeep, their guns hidden beneath finely cut suits. Gotta give it to the pair of them; they know how to dress, but then that’s what comes of living in a mixed world of family, mayhem, and business, barely able to tell which vein you’re in. The order of murder and loyalty seems screwed like that, giving half-hearted impressions of civility amidst anarchy. Luckily, I don’t have a family to give a fuck for anymore.

  I chuckle quietly as I watch them introduce themselves to Hope and signal for drinks, eyes firmly on her face. Clever. They both know how this shit plays out when I’m riled. Quinn’s seen it once before a few years ago. He never saw the reason why; she’d left before it started, but he witnessed the end result with little interest in the brutality.

  “Where are you staying?” Hope enquires, her hand on Emily’s arm.

  “We’re over on Fifth,” Quinn replies for her, turning his woman away from the conversation and guiding her back to a seat. Hope smiles and looks at the pair of them, her mind clearly humming around what she needs to do to get close to Quinn.