I once was lost but now am found,
Was a slave, but now I’m free.
We never went to Barbados.
Chad had asked me, “Are we still taking an island trip?” and I’d replied, “Not today. Today, I want to go home.”
He’d liked the sound of that. Home.
We would be going to Barbados alright, but that’s after our shit was in order. As it was, there was still too much to digest, too much to acclimatize to, too much to accept.
Rafail was down and—for the time being—I was free. The Organization would be claiming me when Org stepped down. Yeah, sure, I would be the Pinnacle, but that wouldn’t make me any less of a slave to it.
Chad had also relayed some awful news about Ricardo. My brother. He’d gone mad, being treated at a private facility. Watching his wife and unborn child get murdered in cold blood had done his head in. But I figured the trigger was in his undergoing such a horrific experience all over again. Imagine losing your family twice. Not just losing them, but witnessing their deaths from front row seats.
I demanded Chad take me to see him, so we’d stopped by before heading home.
Aside from the cast on his right leg, Ricardo was clean and fresh, in a massive customized suite Chad paid extra for. My brother saw us and knew us, but was a mute. He wouldn’t talk to us. Just stared off at nothing, rocking back and forth in a rocking chair situated in the corner of the room.
“When did this happen?” I’d asked Chad, my voice shaky, eyes burning. It ripped my heart to shreds seeing my brother like that.
“Two nights after Portola Valley,” he informed me. “Heard Vivian screaming in the middle of the night. Found him in the kitchen stabbing himself over and over in the bullet wound on his leg.”
“Jesus.”
Wrapping his arms around me, Chad kissed the top of my head. “He’s getting better, babe. He was a lot worse than this, believe me.”
“Come back to us, Ricardo,” I’d whispered to my brother. “I forgive you for everything and…I love you.”
“We love you,” Chad corrected.
When we’d finally gotten home at sundown, Org was there waiting for us. Inside Chad’s bulwark. A fortress no one was supposed to be able to get inside of. Immediately I remembered Chad telling me, “If Org wants me dead, I’m dead.”
How true that was. If Org could get inside that particular building, then there was obviously nowhere inaccessible to the man.
“My entrance could have been much easier and less damaging if you had given me a key like I asked, Shadreek,” Org said when we both stopped short at the sight of him sitting placidly at the table in the dining area, sipping a cup of tea and typing on a skinny laptop.
Vivian was seated at the other end of the table with her hands folded in her lap, complaisant, her eyes like saucers, her body rigid.
Interlacing his fingers with mine, Chad strode over to the table with me and signaled for Vivian to leave.
Vivian looked uncertain, confused, her eyes darting between Chad and Org, as though wondering whose order was the order to act on. When Org nodded slightly at her, she whooshed out a breath of relief and scurried off.
Easing down into the seat still warm from Vivian’s ass, Chad tugged me down on his lap, and I went easily, pressing close, wishing I could melt into him.
I swung my right arm around his neck and deadened my wrist so my hand would fall loosely onto his pectoral, right where I knew his birdcage was. I trailed my fingers back and forth over his plain white tee—he’d taken off the pilot shirt on our way home, remaining in just the under T-shirt, the navy blue uniform slacks, and shiny gentleman shoes. The man was so goddamn sexy it would be a crime not to acknowledge it. Death penalty to joke about it.
“You’re the last person I’d want to have my key, Org,” Chad said trenchantly.
“Ah…” Org hummed. He closed down his skinny laptop and folded his hands above it as he fixed his gaze on Chad. “But I should be the first.”
Chad snorted.
“A father should be welcomed in his son’s house, should he not?”
Probably as dumbfounded as I was, Chad just stared at the man.
Compressing his lips at our silence, Org carefully picked up his teacup and leaned back in the chair. He took a hot sip, flicked his eyes down at the cup, then up at Chad. “Your father was a sorry excuse for a man. And your mother was a worthless delinquent. I know what you did the other day. You toyed with my emotions to get me to admit I cared about you. I realize you like to make people’s minds your playing field. You are good at it. I commend you. But if you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask.”
With a pensive pause, he took another sip of his tea, then went on, “You never asked, but I will tell you: The moment Isabel began calling you son, Shadreek, I did, too. Whatever she loved, I loved. And she loved you. You do not know this, but she favored you over Ricardo. Isabel thought Ricardo was lazy and reluctant and wanted to be babied in everything. But you, you liked to take control, you liked to learn, you liked to lead. And she loved that.”
Another slow, drawn-out sip of coffee. “I have followed your life through and through ever since you left Russia. How do you suppose your men detected those assassins Rafail continually sent to snipe you? No matter how much training you and your men have, nobody is good enough to stop one dozen different assassins in their tracks. It was I,” he apprised. “I am the one who always tipped your contacts off with time and location.”—I could feel the change in Chad’s heartbeat at this revelation, but outwardly he remained stoic—”I have always been with you, Shadreek. You just did not know. One, because you are everything my own son was not. He was a disappointment, and I wished you were my own. And two, because I knew if my daughter was still alive”—he fixed his green gaze on me—”one day, wherever you were in this world, she would find you, and I would finally find her.”
Nothing.
No words. From me or Chad. This man, Org, was so confusing. So…strange.
Seemingly annoyed with our continued silence, Org put his teacup down, pushed his chair back, and stood up, buttoning his suit jacket.
That was the first I’d ever laid eyes on the man. My father. He had my eyes, exact almond shape, exact color, so I knew it wasn’t fiction that he was my real father. He was tall, though. Taller than Rafail, taller than Chad. Slender, wiry, but not to be thought of as weak.
He had long, silver hair, like a wizard. But instead of looking like an old bastard, the white hair kind of made him handsome, like he was from the Targaryen lineage. His all-black suit was sharp, expensive, without a crease.
I must point out that he’d pointedly avoided me since we came in. Maybe he was still sulking about what I’d said about acknowledging only Michael Byrd as my father. Taking it to heart.
“We are no test for each other, Shadreek. Apparently neither of us can outsmart the other, and that is why I want you by my side,” he said, pressing the tips of his long fingers on the top of the chair. “Just like you knew my plans, knew my game, I knew yours. So I know you want my daughter to inherit my seat. I will not fight you on it. I will not rule her name out as the inheritor. Both of you will be at the top of the table, so when the time comes—as I am not sure if I will step down five years from now, or have a heart attack tomorrow—you may figure things out yourselves.”
He picked up his laptop and tucked it under his arm. “Until then, I will speak only with you, Shadreek. My daughter has denied me the chance to be her father. Therefore, she may not speak to me directly. She may not come into my presence without your escort. She may not—”
“Can’t be serious,” I muttered. Then I said aloud, “I’m right here you know, asshole.”
Taking a deep, impatient breath, Org kept his eyes on Chad. “I expect a key to this building first thing tomorrow. If I have to break in again, I will level this place to the ground.”
Then he walked off to the elevator.
That’s it? I find out this man is my father and that’s how he behaves? Like a fucking pre-schooler because I said one simple thing out of anger?
“Are you just going to—” I started to say, springing up from Chad’s lap.
But Chad gripped my arm and tugged me back down. “Breathe easy, Jhay.”
“No!” I said, trying to get back up. “He’s acting like a snotty-nosed child whose ice cream fell off its cone.”
Shaking from a chuckle, Chad kissed my neck, soothing me instantly. “I used to think he was a cold, emotionless bastard. But now I’m convinced he has more humanity in him than all of us put together. He loves you, that’s why he’s hurt. Give him some time, he’ll get over his bruised ego.”
Taking his word for it, mainly because his lips and searing breath on my neck were muddling my head, I shifted on his lap and straddled him. In one smooth go, I pulled my blouse over my head and dropped it to the floor.
I leaned in to touch my lips to his, but he flattened a palm to my chest to stop me, his face all too serious for my liking.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, only watched me with those daunting black eyes of his, expression unreadable, lips firmly pressed together. He was beginning to scare me.
“Chad,” I whispered, searching his face, “what is it?”
“You know I’m going to marry you, right?”
Folding my lips, I tried to keep in my laugh, but couldn’t help it and guffawed in his face at the ridiculousness of that concept. “Yeah, sure.”
Seemingly offended, his face grew grave. “This means no, then,” he said, not asking a question.
“Wait,” I said, holding up a hand, “you were serious? With the lives we’re destined to lead, you really expect us to get married and have 2.5 kids like we’re normal people?”
“Why not?”
Utterly astounded, I gaped at him. “Chad, your own father tried to kill you. My fake father died from a bullet to the head because his wife was a cheating, deceitful killer who was hardly ever at home for her kids. My real father, a puissant kingpin, just said I couldn’t talk to him directly or stand in his presence without you there. We are products of all that. Murderers. Liars. Monsters. What kind of parents do you think we’ll be?”
“Good ones.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh yeah? How good a guardian have you been for your cousin Alina? When last have you seen her? What’s her favorite color? Does she like her pizza hot or cold? Stuff crust or thin?”
He glanced around, ashamed. “That’s not fair. You were trying to kill me. Then it was Rafail. It wasn’t safe for her to be around m—”
“Chad, you are now a part of The Organization. Just like it wasn’t safe for Alina to be around you, it’s never gonna be safe for us to bring children into this shitmess of a life. The kids thing, let’s just fantasize about it and stop there.”
With a miserable groan, he pressed his face to my bosom and expelled a heavy breath. “We need kids to carry on our family legacy, Jhay.”
I knew then that I’d lost, because he was right. With Rafail down, Chad would inherit his family legacy. And Org would pass his on to me. With no kids, we would be a major disappointment not having created a new generation to perpetuate the legacy for years to come. Chad’s legacy dated back from the eighteen hundreds. What if someone had been selfish and decided they didn’t want children back then? The legacy would’ve died.
Safe or not, kids were a must. We just had to be the best damn parents we could be and not screw things up.
Sagging with defeat, I sighed. “Okay.”
“And you’ll say yes when I ask you to marry me,” he told my cleavage.
When I didn’t respond, he raised his head and glared at me. “You’ll say yes, Jhay.”
“Tell me I have to say yes.”
“You have to.”
“Then I will.”
Chad looked a little confused, so I leaned forward and took his face in my hands. Eyes to eyes, lips to lips, I told him, “I want you to master me, Chad. I want you to dominate and control me. I want you to be my man. I want you to own me completely. I want you to be my king.”
Shaking his head ever so slightly in my hands, he replied, “And I wouldn’t even waste my time trying.”
I scowled. “Why not?”
“Because,”—he looped his hands around my waist— “you’ll never obey.”
Thinking this over, I tipped my head from side to side, then pouted. “I can obey.”
Humor crawled with tiny legs over his features. “Hmm. Sure you can.” He moved an inch so our lips touched, and I parted my lips and welcomed him in, doing the dance, the tongue tango, the slide. Shivers raced through me as I squirmed, pushed and pressed against him.
Breaking away, I asked in a breathy voice, “We’re free now, aren’t we?”
“Completely,” he quickly answered, frustrated with me for breaking our tongue dance.
“So that means we can fuck right here, right now, on this table, and won’t stop even if Ronnie walks in on us, right?”
A wry smile popped on his face. “Yep. That’s freedom alright.”
I pushed up off his lap and eased my ass up on the table, spreading my legs. “In that case, let’s make use of it while it lasts.”
And we did. Kissed, sucked, and fucked on the table.
It wasn’t Ronnie who walked in on us. It was Vivian.
But we didn’t stop. Not even for a second.
Because we were fucking free.