It was a tremendous relief to witness her departure. I couldn't bear the thought of her being entangled in all of this, in the madness that consumed my life. She was pure and innocent, and I marveled at how Mark had managed to preserve that innocence despite everything the two had experienced together. It wouldn't be fair to shatter that delicate bubble of purity. Perhaps it was also because I dreaded her witnessing this side of me, the mobster, the killer—a wretched soul. I yearned to maintain a semblance of honor in her eyes, even if it meant keeping her shielded from the darkest aspects of my life. I longed for her to continue looking at me the way she always did when we were alone, with that untainted adoration in her eyes, even though I had forced her into intimate situations. And my God, the sight of her when I found her under the sheet, naked and lost in innocent desire, while Mark had gone to secure Katie and I went for Adele—it nearly undid me.
The memory of her touch, her taste lingering on my lips, tightened my heart, reminding me of her sweet and refreshing essence, her skin carrying the aroma of exotic flowers on a sultry summer night, with a hint of jasmine prevailing. If it weren't for Mark's presence nearby, I swear I would have cherished her even amidst the chaos of the attack.
The agony of staying away from her for these past weeks has been unbearable, and just when I thought she would be gone, granting me a chance to return to my debauched existence, she had to make me realize how much I desire her. I couldn't bear to disillusion her now.
“Do you want to tell me who that girl is now? And why is Mark protecting her? One would think she's your wife, given how the men protected her," Jessica remarked beside me. Her words dripped with curiosity and a hint of accusation.
A humorless laugh rumbled in my chest, finding her absurdity amusing. "Wife?" I scoffed, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. I turned to face her directly, locking gazes with her for a full minute to emphasize how preposterous I found the idea.
Patricia, Jessica's mother, was a woman who sought solace in temporary connections. Her actions were driven by a need for security and self-preservation. She had willingly offered herself to me, driven by a desire for protection and stability in her tumultuous world.
Our encounter was nothing more than a transactional exchange of physicality devoid of any genuine emotional connection. I recognized her intentions and respected her longing for someone to shield and care for her. It was a mutual understanding, devoid of deeper sentiments
However, Jessica, her daughter, was an entirely different story. My involvement with her was an undeniable mistake, a grave error in judgment. Behind her seemingly angelic visage, she harbored a dark ambition and cold-hearted psychopathy. The warning signs were clear, even before her mother's involvement.
Over the years, a pattern had emerged—an unsettling correlation between the women I had been intimate with and their untimely demise. Jessica, with her cunning intellect, skillfully concealed her jealousy and resentment, attempting to downplay her sinister intentions. Yet, my intuition told me that she was intricately involved in those mysterious deaths.
While I lacked concrete evidence to prove her guilt, I had an innate certainty that she was up to something far more nefarious. The revelation of her true motives, when it inevitably surfaced, would likely leave me unsurprised. However, Jessica would soon discover that her grand plans, whatever they may be, would crumble before my resolve.
Little did she know that her position within the Donovan dynasty was purely contingent upon her mother's connection to it. Victor Donovan, my father, harbored deep distrust towards both of them, taking every precaution to ensure they would never lay their hands on his fortune.
So, while Jessica reveled in her delusions of control and power, the reality was far bleaker for her. Her schemes and machinations would ultimately prove futile, as the legacy and wealth she sought to exploit would forever remain out of her grasp.
"What's wrong with marriage?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, attempting to appear nonchalant and hide her true intentions. "Victor Donovan is married," she added as if it were a relevant point.
"I'm not Victor Donovan, am I?" I muttered, noticing a flicker of annoyance in her eyes before she concealed it swiftly.
"Boss?" Stephen's voice came through the communication device in my ears, interrupting our conversation. He was one of the men I had sent to retrieve Teddy.
"I'm listening," I replied, eager to hear his report.
"We have him. He's lost a lot of blood, but he's stable. The doctor patched him up," he explained.
"Great. Bring him in," I instructed, then turned to Chad and said, "Bring Katie out." Chad nodded and hurried off to carry out my order.
"Somebody from your side ordered the killing of my son," Victor Donovan accused.
"Do you have any proof that it was our men?!" Jared bellowed. "Is that why you ordered the death of my father?"
"He didn't order your father's death, Jared. I did," I confessed, stepping forward. Guns from their side immediately aimed at me.
"You!" Jared shouted in rage.
"Yes, me. You can drop the act now. We both know, Jared, that you ordered the hit on me, not your father. You knew if your men got close enough, I would retaliate. So you were relentless until you got what you wanted," I calmly explained.
"What the hell are you talking about? Are you suggesting it was my fault?"
"Did you, you fucking coward, use me to get rid of your damn father?!" I growled, catching him off guard for a moment before he regained his composure.
"I am no coward," he snarled.
"You ordered the hit on your uncle and your father's mistress before he died. You knew he would die, and you were ready to take his position. But you forgot one thing, Jared..."
"He's lying!" Jared yelled, trying to convince his father's men that he was innocent and playing the victim.
"You forgot..." I raised my voice above his. "The Donovans are not so easy to fuck with." The unexpected happened. A bullet pierced the air, striking Jared in the chest. He staggered backward, his eyes wide with shock. His men fidgeted, unsure of what to do.
"Calm yourselves!" Teddy's voice boomed as Stephen helped him approach.
"You're alive?!" Jared gasped.
"Hard to kill, Nephew, sorry. You played your game, and you lost," Teddy declared, raising the gun in his hand and executing Jared. The boy fell face down onto the floor.
Victor Donovan let out a sardonic chuckle, his voice dripping with dark amusement. "Seems like our little scheme to send him to jail didn't quite go according to plan," he remarked, his tone laced with bitter irony.
"Uncle!" Katie's voice echoed through the surroundings as she ran to embrace Teddy.
"Ah, you poor thing," Teddy murmured, returning the girl's hug as best he could.
"So now you're a kingmaker, huh? Impressive," Jessica remarked, joining me as Teddy reassured my father of his family's continued loyalty. "I suppose your enforcer didn't leave. That was part of your plan."
"Maybe," I replied, beginning to walk away. She followed me.
"Where are you going? It's not quite over."
"It is nothing Victor Donovan can't handle."
"You still haven't answered my question about that girl," she persisted, her tone unwavering. I abruptly halted in my stride, my brows furrowing in frustration. A sudden realization struck me - Jessica might suspect me of being involved with Adele and could pose a threat to her. The mere thought of Adele's life extinguished, her body discarded in a forsaken ditch, violated in the most heinous of ways, fueled a raging inferno of protectiveness and fury within me. Every sinew of my being coiled with tension as I shut my eyes tightly, feeling the weight of darkness pressing upon me. Fists clenched, I fought to regain control over the tempest of emotions threatening to consume me.
Drawing in deep, measured breaths, I willed myself to find a semblance of calm amidst the storm brewing within. Slowly, my eyes fluttered open, a smoldering intensity burning within their depths. Without hesitation, I reached out, gripping her wrist with an unyielding grip that conveyed the gravity of my resolve.
"Hey! What's your problem?!" she snapped as I forcefully pulled her across the field and behind a tree.
Pressing her against the tree trunk, I held her throat firmly as she croaked and struggled to free herself. Using my other hand, I kept her restrained, and with a calculated calmness, I spoke, my tone measured and chilling. "Be careful, sister. Delving into matters concerning that girl or harboring thoughts of pursuing her would be akin to stepping onto a treacherous minefield. You won't merely be shattered; you'll be erased. Be careful." I warned my words carrying the weight of a hidden darkness within me.
At that moment, something flickered in her eyes — genuine fear, perhaps for the first time since our acquaintance. A twisted smile curved my lips as I leaned in forcefully, pressing a kiss upon her mouth, inciting her to push against my chest in protest. It was a rough and brutal gesture, drawing a trickle of blood, as my grip on her throat tightened, making it arduous for her to catch her breath. Eventually, I broke the kiss, and she let out a sob, her hand meeting my cheek in a resounding slap. It elicited a burst of callous laughter from deep within me.
"You're a lunatic!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, her breathing labored.
"Goodnight, sister," I rasped, my voice carrying an air of finality. Reaching for my communication device, I murmured, "Chad?"
"Boss?"
"Let's get drunk," I muttered as I walked away.