Chapter Six

EAGAN

She didn't hear me come inside. Her face is buried between her curled-up legs, and she is sobbing really hard.

It's an awful sight. I stand at the spot, watching her, feeling every ounce of pain in those sobs. Shrinking from it. Bottling down the urge to go over there and console her.

I hate that I can't. All my life, I have caused pain to people. Not comfort them. So this is new. And I'm not sure what to say that'd get her to calm down. I don't know how to make her understand that Frederick Salvator was just a beautiful illusion and she's never getting that.

Her sobs get deeper and I can't stand and watch anymore. So I take steps backward and in the next second, I'm fleeing out of the room, staggering down to mine.

Shutting the door, I let out a wince. The pain in my chest is real. It's fucking real. I strut inside, grabbing the bottle of whiskey on the table. I chug it down, it makes my insides churn even harder. I throw the damn bottle away, and it hits off the wall and breaks into shards.

Her cries waft into my room, echoing at every corner. Haunting me like a damn ghost. I try to shut my ears to it while I take off my clothes.

I step into the bathroom and turn on the shower. Cold water graces my tense skin, giving me a bit of relief. But her sobs invade the space again, crushing every bit of that relief.

Is this my punishment for bidding on her? Am I getting tortured? Why the hell can't I keep those cries out of my ears?

My tense hands brace the wall, while my chest hurts. Unable to shut the cry out, I decide to change the narrative.

Imagine she's crying from my thrusts…imagine I'm way deep inside her and she's crying from the pleasure, from the sweet pain…

There, that worked. I grab my cock, pumping it while reveling in my wild imagination.

I'm deep inside her, stretching out her tight pussy. She's sobbing from my thrusts. She's clutching the sheets, panting because she can't get enough of my cock.

Fuck!

I pump my cock harder as my imaginations get more erotic. Grunts escape my lips at my harder pumps.

Astrid Sage. She's on the bed…my fingers are teasing her clit while I'm impaling her with my cock. And then she cries out even louder, having the most mind-blowing orgasm that's gonna make her fragile and virgin-ish body quiver so bad.

But in reality, I'm the one quivering. My legs are shaking as I nut all over the floor. The heat finally dies, and I realize I've been freed from her cries. She probably fell asleep. Thank-fuckin’-heavens.

I step out of the shower, but I'm not sleepy. Instead, I pour myself a glass of bourbon, stand by my full-length window that overlooks the alluring view of the city, and wallow in my funk.

Soon, the soft hue of dawn stains the windows. And then the sun starts rising and I'm still standing there, exhausted but sleep-ridden.

A soft knock taps on the door. Then footsteps invade my room.

“Boss,” Liam says with a bow.

I turn around, acknowledging his greeting with a bow.

His brows arch questioningly. “Did you sleep?”

“No. Not even a wink.” My voice is groggy.

“Why?”

“Because—” I'm being punished. Bidding her was a mistake and now I'm having this insufferable insomnia.

“Because?” Liam presses, at my sudden silence.

“I don't know. I just couldn't.” I reply, refusing to bore him with the details.

He nods. Then his face lights up with a new curiosity. “Did you talk to her?”

The question reawakens the suffocation in my heart. “No, I didn't.”

“Why not? I thought you went into her room.”

“Yes, but—” I can't continue. “Can we discuss something else, please?”

He hesitates but nods. “Sure, boss.”

“What's the news for the day?” I ask, pouring myself another drink. Too early for that, but who's asking?

“The death of the last Bales brotherhood.” He says, making me look at him sharply. “The news has spread like wildfire through the city.”

I was expecting that to happen soon. So I'm not very surprised.

“What's the people's reaction to it?” I ask, needing to know what mess I just started up.

“The people are terrified. The acquaintances of the Bales brotherhood are holding a private funeral for the man.”

“Get the cars ready. We're going.” I say, dropping the glass

“Are you sure about that, boss?”

“What do you mean?” I ask him, unsure of why he looks so bothered by my decision.

“Well, for one, we weren't invited.”

“So what?”

“Doesn't that mean they don't wanna see us around there?” Liam asks. “It's clear you're being suspected for his death.”

“Even why we need to go there. If we don't show up, it'll give people the narrative that I am guilty of wiping off the Bales brotherhood. And I might be a monster but I'm not gonna gloat about it. Until I get to the top, I can't show what I'm really like.”

“I understand,” Liam nods, seeming convinced. “There's no evidence that proves you're the killer, is there?”

“None. I got rid of everything.”

“Okay, boss. I'll get the cars ready. And I'll tell the chef to serve breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

He leaves the room and I go ahead to take a shower. Minutes later, I'm dressed in a dashing, Italian black tux and going downstairs for breakfast.

My legs screech to a halt at the sight in front of me. Astrid.

She's sitting on the dining table, while Liam is pouring her coffee. He adds a bit of sugar. So she likes sugar in her coffee?

I don't know anything about her — likes, dislikes…nothing. Yet she has me in a twist.

Scratch that, what the fuck is she doing on my dining table?

Liam notices my presence, smiles at her, and heads in my direction. I drag him by the arm, whispering harshly into his ears.

“What the hell is she doing there?”

“Having breakfast?” He says. “She hasn't eaten anything since last night.”

“And why do you fucking care?” I glance back, just to be sure she's not watching us.

“Because she's someone special to you…”

“No, she's not.” I refute immediately. I'll hate it if he continues having such misleading thoughts.

Astrid isn't anything but an obsession — one that I'm gonna get over soon. She's not special. She's not anything else but a momentary obsession.

“Okay, maybe she's not. But she's human. And she's fucking exhausted. Except you brought her here to starve her, I think it's only fair that we feed her.”

“Why do you always have to be so fucking principled about everything?” I seethe, letting go of his arm. I'm fucking exhausted with his principled ass.

“Why do you have to be an asshole about everything?” He shoots back, calmly. I glare at him and he lowers his head. “Sorry boss.”

“Yeah, you better be.”

“But, you gotta let her share the table with you. She needs to eat. And you need to talk to her. Let out all those emotions…” he gestures at my chest. “...you got piled up. Or you might explode.”

“So now, you're my fucking shrink?” I grate out. But he's right. And I hate that!! Damn you, Liam!

“Unfortunately, I just know you a little too well.” He bows. “I'll be outside if you need me.”

I don't say anything else and he leaves. I stand there seconds longer, before putting on a poker face and returning to my seat.

Astrid looks at me and flinches. She drops the cup of coffee she was holding. It does a little spill on the table.

I try to ignore her, even though being this close to her is fucking with my hormones.

She looks around, frantically. And then tries standing.

I hold the seat, keeping it from moving. She can't push it back, so she can't stand. Her eyes widen in panic.

“Stay seated and eat,” I say coldly, meeting her teary and frantic gaze.

She doesn't try to stand again so I let go of the seat. The table is an absolute feast, and then it kinda occurred to me that she may be having a bit of a crisis about choosing what plate to eat from.

“You can eat from any,” I say, sipping my coffee. Black, with no sugar. We're so fucking opposites. So why the damn attraction?

She still doesn't budge. Then her soft voice reverberates in the room.

“I don't wanna eat…”

“You’ll starve,” I say briskly, munching on one of the cookies. It's not that yummy but I need something to distract me from feeling so damn horny just from hearing her voice.

“I'd rather starve than share a table with a man like you.” she stands, ready to storm off.

Like a charged beast, I spring to my feet. I catch her hand and fling her ass right on the damn table. She's a fucking lightweight.

She shrieks. I push her ass up further on the table and some of the dishes hit the floor at the push.

I fix myself between her legs, with my hands at each of her sides. She's panting at our closeness. I'm reeling from anger and the excitement around my loins.

“A man like me?” I repeat. “What kinda man is that?”