Welcome back, my Wicked Ones!
Lots of speculation about the woman Edward saw. Don't worry, questions will be answered given time!
This week there is somewhat of a zest warning. More than last week, at least. ;)
Thank you so much to Fran S. Sunflower for beta reading this chapter, and to the pre-readers; PearlyFox, DaniDarlingxx, and Lily Jill.
Thank you also to PearlyFox for my French translations, and to Paliia Love for the Spanish!
Last week:
A taxi pulls up in the street in front of me, and I watch it for something to do while I wait out the heaviest part of this rain.
The back door opens, but no umbrella emerges. Instead, a brunette head steps out of the cab. I catch a glimpse of her profile, and my heart lurches in my throat. It's the same reaction I always have whenever I see a brunette woman around my age.
Some part of me has never given up hope of finding her.
The woman shuts the back of the cab and slips down the street, and I have to calm myself the hell down. Now that I look at her, she looks too young; dressed in jeans and Converse sneakers. And really, there are thousands of brunette women in the city. I have to stop reacting like this.
I wait on the stoop for the rain to clear some, and when it grows a little lighter, I slip back on the street and continue toward the compound.
IX
La Petite Mort
Isabelle
Oh, mourir la petite mort.
I sneak into the compound when I return for a few reasons; one, I don't want to talk to anyone when I'm still feeling so vulnerable and raw, and two, I don't want anyone to see me dressed like this.
I shed the wig and kick off the sneakers, and as each falls from my body, the weight of being her starts to lift from me. I strip out of the wet jeans that are clinging to my skin, desperately trying to force me to stay her a few moments longer.
When I am free of them, I toss my wet clothes aside and turn to take in my reflection.
She doesn't wear much makeup, and it is startling to see my face so bare, so vulnerable.
I hate it.
Even standing in my expensive as fuck lingerie and my bleached blonde hair, I still look too much like her.
I shed the pieces of silk and lace and turn to my shower.
I'm cold from the interaction with Bree and the unexpected rain, and the water is hot and punishing, breathing life back into me.
I scrub my skin until I'm pink, raw, alive.
The moment I'm out, I set out to become Isabelle again. Isabelle is my safe harbor, my sanctuary. She is everything to me; the woman I needed when I was a child.
My fingers stop smoothing the lotion over my skin when I come in contact with the small, circular burn marks on my side. Of all of Charlie's abuses, these were some of the easiest to take.
My nails dig into the puckered scars until it hurts. I've been told they can be removed, but I won't part with them. They are constant reminders, constant fuel.
I continue through my routine, remembering I have an appointment with my esthetician in the morning. It's a standing appointment with her weekly, just one more thing that separates Isabelle from her.
When I am done, I move from my en-suite bathroom, slipping on a black silk robe before heading into my room. I spend almost no time here; I hardly ever sleep, and I never conduct business from this space.
My large king-sized bed sits across from my floor-to-ceiling windows that look out on the city. The windows are tinted and treated so that even if someone could get up this high to look in, they couldn't see anything.
I take a minute, staring out at the city. From up here, I can see the neighborhood where…
I turn from the window, furious where my mind has wandered. It's from seeing Bree. She always manages to rattle my carefully constructed walls.
I stride across the room, my feet silent across the parquet flooring. My phone is charging by my bed, and I pick it up, shooting off a text before dropping it back to the nightstand.
Pushing my hair back behind my ears, I head across the room to my closet. The double doors swing open silently, revealing the African Blackwood paneling. The closet is the only place in the room with carpet, and it is soft and decadent under my toes.
I dress quickly, pulling on a skirt and silk blouse. I forgo undergarments tonight.
Once I'm dressed, I check my makeup once more before tugging on some towering heels. Lastly, I slip on my Cartier ring, panther, a gift from Laurent. I wear it to carry him with me in my work, to remind myself of all I've had to fight for and earn in this world.
When I'm dressed, I stride out to my room again, gathering my phone before leaving.
The staccato snap of my heels on the marble hallways is a welcome sound and helps ground me to the moment.
My office is empty when I arrive, as it should be. I take a moment to observe the security tapes and then the secondary set that are on a loop separate from the first. When I'm sure no one has been in my office, I sit down to get some work done.
I'm only there a few minutes before there is a knock on my door. "Come in," I bark, barely glancing up from my screen.
The door swings open, and I glance up to see a tall, willowy woman with jet black hair enter the room. She's dressed professionally; a white blouse and black pencil skirt, but on her full and statuesque figure, the outfit is provocative.
She looks my way, and I barely glance at her, silently offering her permission to approach me.
Her Louboutins click against the marble flooring of my office as she nears.
She stops just short of my desk, silently waiting for me to acknowledge her further. I finish my email confirming a meeting later today before I finally turn to Leah.
She's worked for me for a few years now, and though I don't know her life story, I know enough to know she wants to be here.
"I have quarterlies to go over," I tell her. "Get to work."
She needs no further direction. I turn back to my computer as Leah drops to her knees on the other side of my desk. Under the glass surface, I see her crawl toward me, her dark eyes hungry and focused. I feel her fingers reach out, grazing my ankle slightly, and I shift in my seat, scooting toward the edge. Leah's fingers trace up my calves, her touch light as a feather. I can feel her hot breath against my knees as she settles on her own knees under my desk. I keep looking over the reports from Kate as Leah's fingers trail up my calves, hooking behind my knees and gently tugging my legs further apart. I have to shove my pencil skirt up, and I lift only slightly so it can bunch around my waist. Leah's soft lips land on my knees, kissing their way up between my thighs as she settles in before me.
Her hands stay below my waist, stroking my thighs, running up and down my legs as she kisses her way to the apex of my thighs.
Her black silk hair slips over my legs, and I glance down to see the contrast through the glass of my desk. Ebony against lily-white.
Leah's hot breath fans across my cunt as she places a gentle kiss to the inside of my thigh, so close to my pussy. I shift forward, tilting my hips open wider as she leans in, placing a gentle kiss to my lips. Her tongue slips out, toying lightly with my lips, running up and down my slit. I focus on the reports in front of me as she works, licking and sucking me, nipping at my clit until my hips fall open a little further. She slides one of my legs over her shoulder, letting her sink into my cunt deeper as her tongue plunges into me. Her tongue is hot and slick and moves through me expertly, teasing me.
Leah has a talented mouth. It's pretty, too. Pouty, with perfectly straight teeth.
Unbidden, Edward's own perfect smile flashes through my mind, and I scowl, my leg clamping over Leah a little tighter as I try to drive his sudden image from my mind.
He's leaked into me now, though, and as Leah's tongue slides into me, feasting on me, my eyes flutter shut, imagining his tongue. That smart-ass one that I want to cut out. God, I'd love to fuck his face. Suffocate him in my hot cunt. Let him beg for fucking mercy between my thighs. I remember the feel of him between my legs as we wrestled; remember his hot breath as he was pinned so close to my pussy.
I want to ride his face until he fucking chokes on my juices.
Leah's fingers come up, sinking into my suddenly soaking cunt, and I can't help but grind myself into her face. She chokes, and the sound spurs me on. Her fingers are skilled, but they are no cock, and I grind myself down on them, frustrated that I'm not being stretched wider, fuller. I want to be fucking torn apart.
Leah's gasping for breath as I ride her face, and I'm grinding her into my pussy so hard I think I'm close to breaking her nose, but I don't fucking care. I reach down, wrapping one hand around her hair, and tug hard. She cries out, and my greedy cunt sucks her tongue back into me. I'm so fucking close; I think I'll go mad before I can come.
My mind flashes to Edward again. I want to smear my juices all over that pretty face. I want everyone to know who exactly it was he was bowing to, which temple he worshiped at. I am a fucking goddess, and I want him on his knees, exalting me.
Leah lets out a little cry that reverberates through my cunt. Her lips wrap around my clit as she moans, whether, in pleasure or pain, I don't care. Her fingers curl in me as she hums again, and I come, pulling so hard on her hair, I'm sure it hurts her as I grind my cunt into her face.
I hate that it's Edward's face I see as I come.
I want to drive him out of my fucking mind. Out of my fucking life. I'd kill him tonight if the mere thought of him hadn't just given me one of the strongest orgasms of my life.
I ride it out in my office chair, and when I come down, I suck in a deep breath, dropping my hold on Leah. She pulls back from me, and her dark face is glistening from my cunt juices, her hair a mess. Her cheeks are flushed, and I don't know if it's from the friction of being stuck between my legs or from being turned on by eating me out.
I give myself thirty seconds to recover before I drop my legs from her shoulders. I pull my skirt back down and glance at Leah, who is still under my desk.
"That's all. Get out."
She nods, wiping her face on the back of her hand. It's useless. She's fucking covered.
She climbs out from under my desk, looking at me once more. When I don't acknowledge her, she turns and leaves my office without another word.
-V-
"Isabelle?"
I look up at my intercom. "What?" I snap, annoyed from being broken out of thought. Giana clears her throat.
"Jasper is waiting for you downstairs."
I glance at the clock. Fuck. "I'll be right down."
I turn back to my computer, finishing my notes on one of Kate's reports before I stand.
After my visit from Leah, my mind was clearer, sharper. I've gotten all sorts of work done since, as is usually the case after a session with one of the girls. It's not always the same girl, though I tend to prefer Leah. She knows when to keep her mouth shut.
I gather my things and head out of my office, down toward the lobby. No one is around to talk to me, and I'm relieved by that. I finally feel back to myself, back to Isabelle, but I still don't want to talk to people quite yet.
Downstairs, Jasper has the Rolls out front, and I slide into the back seat next to him.
"Is your man there?" I demand. He nods.
"They are waiting on us. Don't worry; it's going to be a great deal."
I don't say anything. It better be a good deal, or it'll be Jasper's ass, and he knows it.
The car pulls away from the curb and launches steadily into the city.
"He took it well," Jasper says, breaking the silence. I glance at him.
"What are you talking about?"
He grins. "Edward. He took your test in the Pit well. Fuck, he took it better than anyone I've ever seen." Jasper shifts, and I know he's struggling to relive those memories. Despite his ruthlessness, Jasper is too soft for the torture.
I look out the window. I don't want to talk about Edward.
"What did you think you'd get from him?" Jasper presses, and I feel my teeth grind together lightly.
"I expected him to flinch so I could kill him and be done with this," I snap.
I don't look at him, but I can feel Jasper smile.
I ignore him the rest of the drive.
-V-
The warehouse sits on the docks, near the port. It's one of several warehouses I own out here, but that can't be proved.
The car stops outside one of the side doors, and Jasper looks at me.
"Ready?"
It's annoying that he asks. When the fuck am I not ready?
When I don't respond, he nods and pulls the door open.
The air has paused, for now, but the ground is slick with puddles. It's disgusting out here, and for a brief moment, I wish I'd worn boots, but I find a clean, clear path without having to slow my pace and push the thought aside. Near the door, Edward and Felix are standing, waiting for us. My eyes flicker to Edward before I can stop them, and when I see those pouty fucking lips, my pussy clenches.
Neither man looks directly at me, and Jasper nods to Felix, who pulls the door open. I head in first, the three men falling in behind me.
Inside, the warehouse is all but empty, just an expanse of concrete flooring and structural columns. Perfectly spaced throughout the room hang industrial lights. About half of them are on right now, casting circular patterns onto the grey floors.
Near the center of the warehouse are two black SUVs parked side by side. Behind the trucks, a group of four men wearing dark suits stand talking.
My heels are deafening in this space, and the moment I start toward them, I have everyone's attention.
I take my time, making my way to them. The longer they watch me, the more my power grows until I am an Empress, descending upon them.
I stop about ten feet from them, and I see all eyes flicker to their leader, looking for any sort of direction. They don't know what to do with my power.
Jasper speaks first. "Señor Herrera, ella es Isabelle." He motions between their leader and me. "Isabelle, this is Señor Herrera."
"Señorita," Herrera says, nodding his head toward me. I don't respond. "These are my associates," he continues, his voice thick and heavy with his accent. "My son, Diego," he says, clapping the man nearest him on the shoulder. Diego's eyes slide over me hungrily, and I see it right there at that moment; he is a man that does not take no for an answer.
I fight to keep my hands from curling into fists.
"¿Vamos?" Jasper asks, sensing my shift in emotions. Herrera nods, and they turn toward one of the SUVs together, speaking in low Spanish.
Diego's eyes are still burning me, igniting my hate and anger. He's a child, barely more than twenty-one, but he expects the world to be his for the taking.
I'm about thirty seconds away from ripping that world from him.
Edward steps beside me, and the sudden heat of his body, the unexpected feel of his energy shifting so close to me, jars me out of my thoughts.
I glance at him. He's studiously watching Jasper, but I can feel him trying to reach out, trying to protect me or some shit.
My fury turns on him.
"Señor Herrera," I shout, blood rushing in my ears. I need to hit something. The men stop talking and look at me. "I believe you've had an appropriate amount of time to review our deal," I snap.
"Sí," he nods.
"Are there any amendments?"
He shifts, glancing at Jasper before looking at me.
"I want my son to run things on this side of the border," he says, motioning toward Diego. "He will operate on this side as my liaison."
My jaw clicks. "I would hope you'd leave your operation in more capable hands," I say, not caring that I'm disrespecting both of them. Diego makes a sound of protest, but Felix shifts, and Diego shuts the hell up.
"My son is very capable, Señorita," Herrera says, his eyes narrowing on me.
"This is not a child's operation," I hiss. "And I will not be left babysitting a boy trying to play King."
"¡Hija de puta!" Diego spits.
"¡Cállate!" Herrera shouts at his son. Diego looks at him. "It seems, Señorita, that you have read us rather quickly," he frowns. "I agree, my son is a child. But children must learn, and I need him to know what this business takes."
I shake my head. "I don't fucking care what you have to do for him. Your family business is not my goddamn problem. Find someone capable on this end, or our deal is off."
Herrera shifts, his face calculating. Jasper takes a breath, leaning back against one of the SUVs. This is typically why I don't come on these runs with him, but the deal with Herrera is too big. I need this to work.
"Very well," Herrera says after a moment. "I'll send my best man, a man you can trust. He will supervise Diego, make sure things stay in order."
I stare at him evenly. "I don't offer second chances," I warn him.
"Sí," he agrees. I hold his gaze to make it perfectly fucking clear what I mean. I see his understanding in his eyes, and after a moment, I nod.
"Jasper," I snap.
He nods and turns back to Herrera. I'll let them finalize the deal. Jasper knows what we need. We will supply them with guns and ammunition as well as acting as a distribution point for the drugs they manufacture. In exchange, Herrera's entire organization will be working from South America to hunt down one of the most prolific and difficult to track cells of Aro's organization. They are a ghost operation, out of reach for me, for now. Finding them, getting into their midst will be a massive step toward taking down Aro. It is not enough to behead this snake; I must be a virus that infects the entire body.
I turn from the group, heading back toward the door. I am no longer needed, and I want to get out of this fucking place.
I step outside the warehouse, taking a breath of briny air to clear my head. Fuck, I'm still so fucking angry.
I take a minute to compose myself, my eyes catching on the swollen moon hanging in the sky. It helps me focus my mind, and I take another deep breath.
A door opens behind me, and I expect it to be Edward or Felix, so I don't turn around.
A body slams into me, pinning me to the concrete wall so hard, I feel my cheek scrape. "You bitch."
I recognize Diego immediately. Impulsive child.
"You embarrassed me in front of my men, in front of my father," he spits, twisting my arm. He obviously doesn't know how to pin someone because he's left one of my arms free. Too fast for him to realize what I'm doing, I pull a knife out from its holster on my thigh, spinning and pinning him against the wall.
He blinks, looking stunned at the sudden change in our positions. "Listen to me, little boy," I hiss, pressing my blade into his throat. It's tight enough against his flesh to draw the thinnest line of blood, and he gasps. "This is my fucking world; do you understand me? You will follow my rules and obey," I lean into him, pulling a second knife out and pressing it against his groin. His eyes go wide. "Or I will split you in half, starting with your balls. Am I fucking clear?"
He's terrified, his eyes wide and near watering with tears. He nods as best he can with my knife to his throat. "Touch me again, and I will kill you before you can breathe."
He is terrified, and I hate him. I hate the vulnerable, scared look in his eyes. I hate the fear he reeks of. He is a child, and he has no place in my world. "Get the fuck out of my sight." I step back from him, and he gasps, collapsing against the wall and sucking in a deep breath. He takes three seconds to compose himself before he turns and races back inside the warehouse.
My gaze lands on Edward, and my anger sparks again. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
He shifts. "I saw him come out; I wanted to make sure you weren't caught unaware."
Righteous anger fills me at this, and I storm him, shoving him back against the warehouse wall. "You thought you'd protect me?" I snarl, pressing him flat against the wall. He has the decency to look ashamed of his assumptions.
"What the fuck did you think would happen," I demand, my body pressing into the hard planes of him. His heat burns me, sparking me hotter, making me angrier. "Did you think I'd let him even think of getting anywhere near my cunt?" I grab his hand, shoving it between my legs and up my skirt. His eyes go wide as I press my burning flesh against his palm. I'm fucking drenched, and I rub myself down against his palm, angry at how good it fucking feels. I want his fingers to slip inside me. I want to use him and let him know that he was graced by my divine violence.
I want him to know what hellfire feels like.
"If you ever," I hiss, my words slightly broken as I grind against his palm. "Fucking doubt me again…" his fingers curl, ever so slightly, and it would be so fucking easy to slip them inside me. My fist comes up to his chest, knife still curled in my fingers. The threat is clear, glinting in the moonlight.
He stops moving, stops breathing, and it takes supernatural willpower for me to rip myself away from him. His hand drops from between my legs as I step back, my chest heaving. "You are under my power," I tell him. "My control." His hand is gleaming in the moonlight, covered in my hot juices. It's almost enough to unhinge me. "Lick me off your fingers and remember who your queen is."
Edward's throat bobs with a heavy swallow, but he slowly lifts his hand to his face. His eyes meet mine as his tongue comes out, swiping across his palm, and I've underestimated how turned on this would make me. Fuck.
He groans as he licks his palm, his eyes burning into mine.
I suck in a breath, willing my body under control. Anger and arousal have merged, and if I don't fucking leave right this moment, I'm going to tear this man apart with my need to devour him.
"Remember your fucking place," I spit, somehow managing to turn from him.
I make it back to the Rolls, making sure the tinted divider is up before pulling my phone out.
Isabelle
I'll be back in 20 minutes. I want you naked in my room when I return.
I only have to wait three seconds for Leah's response.
Leah
Yes, Mistress.
Let me know what you think of Isabelle and this blooming tension between her and Edward!
Translations:
1. La Petite Mort - the Little Death [euphemism for orgasm] (French)
2. Oh, mourir la petite mort. - Oh, to die the little death. (French)
3. Señor Herrera, ella es Isabelle. - Mr. Herrera, this is Isabelle (Spanish)
4. ¿Vamos? - Shall We? (Spanish)
5. Sí - Yes (Spanish)
6. ¡Hija de puta!" - You Bitch [rough translation] (Spanish)
7. ¡Cállate! - Silence! (Spanish)