Beware 2: The Comeback Page 9

  I swallow thickly as he meets up to me, grabs my hand, and studies my face. I do my best to fight the sensations his touch kindles within me. I want him to know I’m done—that we’re done.

  “Go back,” I whisper-hiss.

  “No.” His voice is simple and deep.

  “Let me go, Ace. You’re not good for me.”

  “But Greg is?” He cocks an agitated brow.

  “As a matter of fact, he is.” I snatch my hand away and fold my arms, pressing my lips in defiance.

  “As I said before,” he murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips to the shell of my ear, “Fuck. Greg.” My stomach churns, but not uncomfortably. Whatever desire I thought I lost returns, and it returns with a vengeance.

  Ace skims his nose across my cheek, roaming down to the hollow my neck. He clutches my ponytail, twists the length of it around his hand with flared nostrils, and cranes my neck. I heave, remaining absolutely still.

  His lips press on my skin, searing, and heat sinks to my sex, driving me mad. My pussy clenches, panting ensues, and he smirks, pulling away with ease. His eyes meet my bosom, and I pull back, inhaling the breath I didn’t even realize I’d lost.

  I stare into his dark eyes, reclaiming my confidence as I step past him and push my buggy forward. Once again, he laughs, and it rolls through the pit of my tummy, seeping to the puddle in my panties.

  I decide to wrap up my grocery shopping. I have a few more items to get, but they can wait. My sanity is more important than a few boxes of popcorn and other miscellaneous snacks.

  I enter the checkout line, glancing back but not seeing Ace anywhere in sight. Once again, he’s disappeared, and a part of me is relieved, but the devious part—the bad girl in me—is dying for his presence.

  After checking out, I don’t see a sign of Ace, and relief swims through me as I exit the market and walk to my car. I pop the trunk, sighing as I toss the groceries in. I put the buggy in the return cart area, but when I turn back around, I spot him again. This time, he’s leaning against my car door, his black hat tipped down, his gaze on the ground.

  Frustrated, I march for him and try forcing him away from my car door, but he doesn’t budge. He looks down at me, his eyes glittering across my chest. Damn it. Why the hell didn’t I wear a bra? Stepping back, I huff as a few wisps of hair fall in my face. “Please move, Ace. I have to get back.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I have things to do.”

  “You tanned?” he questions, running his eyes all over me. I start to fold my arms, but then I remember… it’s what he wants. He wants me to feel vulnerable to him. Open. Weak. He wants me to beg him for reassurance in any kind of form. I don’t say a thing. I simply match his glare.

  He looks me over one final time before carrying his line of sight up and sighing. “Meet me at Valentina Hotel.” This is an order, not a request.

  I scoff, crossing my arms. “Screw you. Get out of my way.”

  He studies me for a moment, his eyes drifting up and down my petite frame. I stare back, my chest rising and sinking with a mixture of anger, frustration, and lastly, a desperate taste for this man’s touch.

  Ace grabs my chin, his jaw clenching. His hat shields his eyes from the sun, so all I see is darkness, but within the depths of his irises, I see the longing he has for me. The sheer desire. “I could open this door, take you raw on the backseat of this car, andyou wouldn’t stop me. You love me. I love you. Let’s not play these petty games. We’re past that shit, London. Let’s be adults.”

  I seal my lips, yanking my face away from his grasp with a mild pant.

  Immediately, Ace reels me in, holding my ass cheeks in his large hands, our bodies undeniably close.

  We mold. A perfect fit.

  My throat thickens with need. He presses his hardening cock on my thigh, and my breath ceases for a moment, remembering just how wonderful that cock felt between my legs less than twenty-four hours ago.

  He breathes me in, shutting his eyes for a mere moment before flashing them open again. Releasing me, he says, “Valentina Hotel tonight. Room 214. I need to see you. I need to taste you. I need to be inside you. I need you around me. You are my sanity. Be there.”

  Does he really think his words are going to get to me? “No,” I breathe. “You had a chance to explain. You blew it by breaking your promise to me.”

  “Am I in New York?” he challenges, eyes hard.

  “No, but you’re considering going back.”

  “If I really wanted to go back, I’d be there already.” His jaw ticks as he leans forward, minimizing the gap between us.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I mutter, but I know it does. He’s here for me right now. He’s right. If he really wanted to be somewhere, he’d be there.

  Ace steps away, turning his back to me. I watch as he walks away, my heart pounding a mile minute. Inside, my heart deflates with each step he takes. As much as I hate to admit it, his touch drives me wild.

  His voice.

  His aura.

  Every single thing about him.

  I keep my chin elevated, hoping he’ll stop. Hoping he’ll turn back around, find an excuse to speak again. But then my heart blows right up again, beating with way too much life. Pleasure courses through me when he finally says, “Valentina Hotel. Room 214,” once more before rounding the market and disappearing.

  Don’t Play This Song – Kid Cudi

  I clutch my glass in hand as I hear the hotel door slam shut. Bianca barges in, tossing her designer purse on the sofa as she storms towards me. I glance back and when I see her stomping my way, her face contorted with rage, I sigh.

  “Tell me this is a fucking joke!” she barks, grabbing my shoulder and yanking me away from the view of the setting sun. She glares up at me and, with mellow eyes, I walk past her. The last thing I want is to argue with the only family I have left, other than London and my son, of course. “Ace,” she calls as I enter the kitchen. “Tell me you aren’t going back.” She follows me, watching as I top off my bourbon.

  “Not going back.”

  “You are a fucking idiot if you think—”

  I look up, my eyes smiling as she settles her tirade. Hers expand, and she looks me over, inhaling.

  “Wait,” she breathes, narrowing her brows. “You’re not going back?”

  “No.”

  “Then what was all that shit London was talking about this morning? What did you say to her?”

  “You met her this morning?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yes. She said you told her you were going back—well she didn’t say you said it, but she assumed you were because you didn’t answer her. She’s hurt, Ace. She doesn’t want anything to do with you. What the hell is going on?” She takes a seat on one of the leather stools across from me. After downing my drink, I gasp and drop my glass. The ice clanks, rattling in my ears.

  “I have it handled.”

  “She’s not going to give in. She seemed pretty serious this morning. She’s sticking with the life she has. She never argues with me in front of Aden. She never argues in front of him period.”

  I laugh, folding my arms and leaning against the fridge. “She may have fooled you, but she damn sure can’t fool me. She’ll come around. Maybe not tonight like I asked her to, but soon. She’s too stubborn to give into me right away after making a decision like that.”

  “So…” Bianca chews on her bottom lip. “You thought about it then? You’re not going back?”

  “No.” At least, not right now.

  She releases a breath of relief. “Phew! Thank God!” Hopping off the stool, she makes her way to the sofa, shaking with silent laughter. “I don’t know what I would do if you’d gone back.”

  “The same shit you were doing when I wasn’t around. Living your life.”

  She frowns. “It wasn’t the same without you, Ace. I didn’t feel as protected. I didn’t have anyone that truly understood where I was coming from about certain… things. I needed my bull-head
ed cousin at some really desperate times.” Walking around me, she makes her way to the sofa, sighing as she sits. “You know Crow is a part of my business, right?”

  I pour her a drink and sit beside her. “It is?”

  “Yeah.” She grabs the cool glass and sips before speaking again. “I mean, it doesn’t say Crow or anything anywhere, but the symbol for the emo, dark girl clothing line is a tethered crow. Just like that one.” She points at the tattoo on my neck. “I did it to remind myself of where I came from and who I grew up with. You remember how I was that crazy emo chick that’d just lost her parents.”

  “Surprised,” I sit back and fold my arms.

  She laughs. “Why? It’s not that big of a surprise.”

  “You hated Crow.” I pause before speaking again. She studies me, smile faltering. “We… left off on bad terms before you found out what happened.”

  It takes several seconds for her to speak. “I remember,” she says softly.

  “You realize I regret it,” I narrow my brows, looking her over, “…right?”

  “I regret it too. I didn’t think—” She stops talking abruptly to collect her thoughts. “Well, I knew something would happen, I just didn’t think it would be a staged death.”

  I rub the back of my neck, turning and facing the tan wall across from me.

  Bianca caps my shoulder, and I lift my head, honey-brown matching honey-brown. “I’m just glad you’re here, Ace. I really am. I just hope you’re actually here for the better.” Her face changes. It’s an odd change, almost like she already knows what she’s telling me is a false hope. Her head drops, and she focuses on her lap, her short, pink skirt, and purple high heels.

  Deciding to switch the subject, I say, “I’m glad shit got better for you, Bianca.”

  Her head whips up, and immediately, her eyes glisten at the rims. I expect a smile, or at least a hint of one, but it isn’t granted. “Better? Is that what you think I was after your disappearance?”

  I frown. She swallows thickly, dropping her head with shame written all over her. I absorb her sudden change of mood, realizing exactly what she’s getting at. See, Bianca has demons that no one knows about. A closet full of them. She may seem okay on the outside—quirky and lively and shit—but deep down, she’s tainted. She’s never been pure.

  Although she hoped and craved to be, she knew she never would. The way we grew up—the way our lives transitioned from innocent to ruthless in a few short years—allows nothing but impurities and imperfections to come in. With all we’ve witnessed and all we’ve been through, we, as Crows, will never be pure, no matter how much we crave to be.

  I stand from the sofa, staring down at her, outraged. She stands and steps forward, holding her hands up as if she’s not guilty. “Don’t, Ace. Don’t even bother getting angry. It’s fine. I’m fine. It’s all over with.”

  “What did you do?” She blinks up at me but doesn’t respond. I stomp towards her, squeezing her shoulders with blunt force. “Don’t tell me you went back to that shit, Bianca.”

  Her eyes shimmer, her face as pale as a full moon. Jerking away, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, avoiding my eyes. Silence showers around us, but tension thickens. My throat works hard, trying to accept the wrong she’s done, but it’s hard. I know if I’d been around, she never would’ve resorted to it… drugs. And not the soft shit. The hardcore, ‘it’s time to get fucked up’ shit.

  “I went to rehab for four months. London and Maurice helped me through it. I’m clean now. I swear. I just had a weak moment. It happened months ago. I got better for Aden and London. They were struggling—well, London was struggling. She needed me.”

  With a locked jaw, I step back, breathing unevenly and doing my best to keep my composure. It’s kind of hard to do, imagining her in such a fucked up situation and not having me by her side. I was always there for her, getting her through it. I’m the one that made her realize there were ways to get past it. Ways to grow beyond it. She had to find another hobby. Fashion was that hobby.

  I’m angry with myself more than I am with her.

  I never should’ve let Bianca leave New York.

  I should’ve been there for her, but instead, I chose the business over her. I deceived her. And I’m sure, for a while, she hated me. I bet she blamed herself for what happened to me. That’s why she resorted to drugs.

  I pant through flared nostrils, and before I realize it, I’ve stalked towards the kitchen, knocking one of the stools over viciously. It crashes to the floor, my breathing deep, anger substantial.

  Bianca flinches, and her hands cover her mouth as I snatch up the glass I was just holding and toss it at the wall across from me. Clear shards scatter across the linoleum, a sharp triangular piece landing near my foot.

  “Ace—”

  “I told you about this, Bianca,” I growl, stepping towards her. I tower over her, and it isn’t like her to cower, but with this topic, she does. She coils up, almost hiding in her purple blazer. “I’ve never told anyone about this shit. I never brought your bad habits—your monsters—to light because I want you to be the good one. You are the good one. You are the good of Crow, Bianca. I’ve told you this!”

  “I couldn’t help myself!” she screams. “I—I got drunk. I went clubbing, and I met this guy… some completely random guy. He took me to VIP, and I saw it... right on the table. It’s like it was meant for me. I’d been thinking about doing it for weeks and then, I finally see it. Right there in the open. Waiting for me… like it was calling for me.”

  “Saw what?”

  “…Heroin.” Her voice is barely heard.

  “Godammit, Bianca!”

  Two lonely tears stream down her cheeks. “I know! I swore to you I would never touch it again, but it happened so long ago, Ace. Months after we found out you were gone.”

  I look her in the eyes, and without a doubt, I weaken for her. For once, I let my guard down for Bianca because a part of this is my fault. I’m the real monster. I’m the reason she resorted to such fucked up and dark depths. I’m the reason for every bad thing in her life.

  I want to fight the tears and the heartache I feel for not being there for her, and fortunately, I win. But when I speak again, my voice cracks, proving just how weak I am for my baby cousin. “I was here,” I say. “I was here, Bianca. You couldn’t see me, and I apologize from the bottom of my fucking heart… but I was here.”

  She sniffles, swiping at her face. “Some part of me wanted to believe you were. I wanted to imagine you. Pretend you were around. The only way I could do that was if I… took it.”

  I turn my back to her, picturing in my head the months she probably spent in rehab recovering. Going through painful withdrawals and uncomfortable chills, which I’ve witnessed. The worst side of her.

  I didn’t show it then because I was much stronger and had way too much pride, but shit changes when you haven’t seen a person you care about in years. You realize what you’ve missed out on, how much damage you actually caused them instead of good.

  You hate yourself for all the fucked up shit.

  I hate myself.

  I’m better off dead.

  “But you’re here now,” Bianca whispers, stepping around me with a small smile. She hugs one of my arms, her body shuddering from backed up tears. “I can’t afford to lose you again, Ace.” Something wet slides down my forearm. I realize it’s one of her tears. “Don’t go back. Don’t even think about going back. We’re all you need. We all lost our shit when we thought you died. Whether you realize it or not, you have a huge impact on our lives. You mean a lot to us. We need you.”

  I swallow hard, staring up and watching the sun sink beneath the ongoing ripples. My heart thunders, pulse rising. I glance down at a weeping and thankful Bianca, then back at the horizon. She shudders with her overflow of tears. I remain motionless, allowing her words to sink in.

  I have an impact.

  I matter.

  I can’t go now.

 
; This time, after witnessing a raw Bianca—a side of her I haven’t seen since we were teenagers—I mean it.

  I can’t go. I’m staying. I’m fighting.

  I’m here. Time for a fresh start.

  Skin - Rihanna

  Greg is working all night which leaves me ample time to overanalyze everything. I can’t stand it. I’m worrying Aden. He watches me more than I know.

  “Mommy? Are you okay?” he asks. He steps into the kitchen in his favorite racecar pajamas, his eyes tired.

  I stop my pacing in front of the kitchen sink, dropping to my knees to reach eyelevel with him. “I’m okay. Just thinking, honey.” I gather him in my arms as he rubs his eyes. “Come on. You’re sleepy. Want me to read you a bedtime story?”

  “I want The Gwinch!”

  I laugh, taking the stairs. “The Grinch it is.”

  After tucking Aden in and reading him his favorite story, I place a kiss on his forehead and turn his nightlight on. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me, okay?” He nods, but I know once I’m gone, he’ll be fast asleep. He’s had a long day with the beach, daycare, and his play date with the kids down the street. He’s got to be exhausted.

  I sigh as I walk back down the stairs, rounding the corner and entering the living room. I turn the lamps off, grab the TV remote, and surf through the channels, hoping it’ll clear my mind. My lust… or should I call it love?

  I do still love him. I still care about him. But he fucked up. It’s not my fault he’s all wishy-washy with his decisions. He let me go. But he’s trying to win you back again, London!

  To my dismay, a movie pops up. An erotic scene flashes, and I stop surfing, my eyes stretching. My breathing becomes shallow as the scene unfolds before me. His hands running down her waist, circling her hips, and trailing towards her sacred valley.

  The urge consumes me—the urge to be pleased. Satisfied. I lean back, taking a quick look around. Greg won’t be home before midnight. I have way too much time on my hands.