Vicious Minds (Children of Vice #4)(29)
“No. She loves him no matter what,” she replied lifting the menu. “What she saw in that limp dick, muscle brain asshole is a mystery to me. She’ll thank me one day if I tell her.”
“If you tell her?” I repeated. “So you aren’t going tell her?”
“Nope,” she said firmly as her grey eyes scanned the menu. “Bellarose has the worst taste in men.”
“And you are better?” I questioned.
“Are you asking this so I’ll compliment you right now?”
“Never.” I laughed and leaned back in the chair. “So if you took it upon yourself to kill him for your sister’s sake, you must truly love her.”
She paused and glanced up at me. “Do you really believe that?”
“Believe what?”
“That I did this because I love my sister?”
“Am I incorrect?”
She nodded, putting her menu down and her elbows on the table. “My number one priority is myself. How would I look having him as brother-in-law?”
“That’s your reasoning?” Surprise laced my tone, but then again, I would have done the same thing had it been any of the people in my family.
“People like him end up being a liability later. I told Bellarose already, fall in love with more sensible people. She didn’t listen, so I helped her along. I can’t choose my family, but I will damn well make sure my extended family is worthy,” she answered coldly, then took a breath glancing around the restaurant for the waiter. There was more to this that she wasn’t telling. Her voice completely changed as she called out to the waiter.
“Excuse me?”
The man turned and upon seeing her, checked her out. She gave him a dazzling smile which made him smile back, until he finally noticed me sitting across from her. Slowly he came over.
“Sorry, there was an accident—”
“We heard, it’s horrible. Is she dead?” She resumed her play.
“Yes, sadly. The cops are on scene now, just closing off the area around the front of the café. We’ll most likely be closing.”
“Oh,” she said quickly, closing the menu. “We’ll just go—”
“I’ll have the chef make something for you to go, on the house,” he interjected.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course, what would you like?” He leaned in closer to her, peering over her shoulder as if I was not sitting here.
It was only in that moment did I realize he was acting like this because I wasn’t Ethan Callahan. I was just some guy with a beautiful girl. He didn’t know who I was or what I could do to him. For all he knew, I was a tourist.
“Boss,” she glanced up to me, “don’t you want anything?”
It didn’t escape my notice that the waiter grinned slightly when he heard her call me Boss.
“You out of my shirt and back in my bed,” I answered, and her eyebrow raised. “But for now, I’ll have whatever you’re having and an espresso to go.”
His eyes met mine and he stood up straight, taking the menu from her. When he left, her eyes set on me.
“I thought you were tired of me?”
Rising out of my seat I offered her my hand. “Let’s eat somewhere up to our standards.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Chapter 6
“Our souls already know each other, don’t they?’ he whispered. ‘It’s our bodies that are new.”
~Karen Ross
CALLIOPE - AGE 21
Cartagena, Colombia
Monday, July 1st
“When you said a place up to our standards, I was thinking Lucia Moyano.” It was the most expensive restaurant in the capital of Bogotá. Instead he himself flew me to Cartagena, almost an hour and half away. It was a beautiful port city on the northern coast of the Caribbean Sea.
“What? I thought you enjoyed church?” He smirked. He opened the door of his Bentley for me, and I stepped out in front of beautiful late 1500s Spanish chapel.
He was up to something. I could feel it and noticed that a few of his goons were back. I thought he had gotten rid of them. But he most likely had local people. They simply nodded to him and opened the chapel doors for me.
The first thing that came to mind was gold. It lined the walls, the ceiling, and the dome in a detailed vine pattern. It framed the priceless art which was well over eight feet high on all sides. The floors were white marble with vines of gold in them.
“So this is where El Dorado is.” I grinned, walking forward. Despite the fact that it was a chapel, hence the iconography, there were no pews. The floor was bare, almost like a mosque. I turned back to him. “Pretty, but why are we here?”
He snapped his fingers, and instinctively I tensed as people came from a room behind the altar, two lifting a short wooden table, another two lifting chairs, and others, candles, followed by silverware. I watched them create a private dinner in the center of the chapel.
“Did I sense panic from you just now?” he whispered from behind me. “What happened to trusting me?”
He wasn’t going to let me live that down.
“Are you going to pull my chair out for me?” I asked, ignoring his damn question.