The Arrangement 22 (The Ferro Family) (6 page)

I try hard to stay still as he teases me harshly, moving his dick over my sensitive parts, but not slipping inside. I groan and try to dig my nails into the countertop, begging him. His voice makes me open my eyes. “Avery, look in the mirror while I fuck you.”

I glance at him for a moment then turn my head to the side. I can see him, see me. My ankles are by his ears, clasped in his tight grip. He pushes into me slowly, taking his time about it. My mouth falls open into an "O," and when I forget about the mirror and look back at him, there’s a sharp sting from his hand slapping me.

“Only look in the mirror,” he growls, thrusting harder this time.

It’s so hard to keep my eyes open, but I do. I watch through lowered lashes as he fucks me on the countertop, thrusting hard and pushing deep. The look on his face, the way his back arches with each thrust is divine. I want to lick every inch of him. Sean's eyes are on me as I keep my eyes on the mirror.

He breathes, “The expressions you make are beautiful. Don’t close your eyes.” He presses into me hard and then pulls out a little, slamming into me deeper this time.

I coo, feeling the smile on my face before I see it. I adore him. The look says as much. My lashes are lowered, and the corners of my mouth are tipped up. My hands are close to my neck, fingertips twirling a curl.

Sean rocks into me, developing a pattern that makes me crazy. It’s almost like he’s teasing me on purpose, but his dick is deep within me. Even so, I want more. I wish I could feel him deeper. I whimper, and he shifts my ankles and presses them back, folding me in half. He presses them to the counter and smiles. “You’re limber.”

“It’s a good thing, too.”

“Yes, it is.” He kisses the tip of my nose, before asking, “Would you mind holding these?”

I can’t help it, I grin. “So you can do what?”

“Fuck you senseless.”

“I guess so.” I hold my ankles next to my head and then everything changes. When he pushes in this time he’s so much deeper, pressing in a delicious way that makes me cry out. I beg him for more, and he indulges me, thrusting harder, fucking me deeper. He rocks into me, over and over again, teasing, me pulling halfway out and then thrusting hard. He fucks me like that as I watch my face in the mirror. My eyelids are heavy, and my mouth is in a constant O begging for more. I have no idea what I’m saying, but I coo and whimper as he fucks me and, when I can’t stand it anymore, he drives into me rapidly until I feel something deep within. The orgasm hits me hard and fast. Before I realize what happened, Sean drops to his knees and buries his face between my legs, lapping up my come in slow wet strokes. I cry out, clutching the counter. My legs shake and fall open because I can no longer hold them in place. As my body pulses, Sean presses his tongue inside me, licking, tasting, and touching me until I’m completely sated.

When he lifts his face, his scruff is glistening. He grins at me. “You’re perfect.” He backs away from my legs and stands. Then he leans over me, kisses me lightly, and holds up my panties. “I’m keeping these by the way.”

I feel so fluffy and light. I have a dorky smile on my face when I ask, “Why?”

“To remind me that sex with you is better this way.”

I prop myself up on an elbow and inquire, “And what if I want to be scared senseless and fucked hard? Who should I ask to do me then?”

Sean rushes at me, tickling me and scoops me up like I weigh nothing. “Me, always ask me to fuck you. I’ll do anything you want, any way you want. I’m just saying that this kind of sex isn’t off the table. Actually, fucking you on a table would be a lot of fun, too.” He swings me around and then puts me on my feet. My legs feel like jelly, and I wobble for a moment, holding onto his waist and wishing I could bury my face in his crotch for a good long while.

I suck in my lip and look up at him. Sean grins. “You’re perfect, completely, fucking perfect. Never change, Miss Smith.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Jones.”

S
ean dresses
, eyeing me with a wicked expression on his face. He pulls on his black jeans, wiggles into that tight sweater, and tops them off with a black trench coat. I smile at him and pull on the fabric at his waist. “Where’d you get this?”

Sean smiles boyishly. “Marty. He said one of Vic’s regulars wears this thing, and I’d be less noticeable in it. Henry has one too. Do you like it?”

“Maybe if you were naked underneath.” I grin up at him and kiss his lips softly. I pull away, wishing we had more time.

“I’ll see you later.”

“You know it.” I smile as he walks away, feeling my chest constrict until I can’t breathe. We both act like things will all work out, but if I’ve learned anything, it's that there are no promises in life.

* * *

M
y heart won’t listen
to my head as I drive my old car toward Miss Black’s office. This is the last time, the last thing I have to do to be free from her and Vic Jr. This will be the end of it. I just have to survive. Freedom is an enticing goal. People have fought for it, died for it. Generations upon generations of people had it worse than me. I don’t pretend to be leading a revolution. I’m not that girl. I’m pretty sure I’m not this girl either, but at this point, I only have two options—die or fight back. So I clutch the steering wheel until my knuckles ache and veer through traffic until I roll to a stop in front of a pharmacy. The butterflies in my stomach have razor sharp wings and slice me up from within. I’m ready to puke again, but it has nothing to do with Black.

I rub a hand over my stomach in a soft motion. It hasn’t escaped me that I’ve felt tired and nauseous for the past few weeks. It seems to be getting worse, not better. I’m not stupid. I know what it means. I know it’s not stress. But I want proof. I need to know for certain.

I exit the car, head into the store, walk down an aisle, and pluck an early pregnancy test from the shelf. Heart pounding, half wanting it to be true and half dreading the thought of going through tonight with a baby in my belly, I head toward the register. By the time I checkout, my eyes are glassy.

The cashier is in her thirties, sloppy red hair swept up into a bun and impaled by a pencil. She smiles at me. “You look beautiful.”

I glance up at her. “Thank you.” My face is pinched with worry.

She takes pity on me, tipping her head to the side while saying, “There’s a restroom in the back. It’s usually reserved for staff only, but it’s yours if you want. No one will bother you back there. It’s just Tina and me tonight.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

She nods curtly, lowers her head and walks with determined strides toward the back of the store. I follow her with my item concealed in a plastic bag. We shove through a door and then into a breakroom. There’s a small bathroom at the back. She turns on the light and smiles kindly at me.

“Life is challenging to live and even harder to plan. You can do it, though. Hang in there.” She clasps my shoulder, and I nearly break down sobbing, only managing to hold it together by not answering.

I nod at her, slip into the bathroom and shut the door. I have to be pregnant. I’m completely insane. Kindness is making me sob, and if I see another baby lotion commercial, I’m going to buy stock in Kleenex. I don’t wait. I don’t linger and look at the box. I rip the sucker out, read the directions, and after doing everything right, I wait.

I fold my arms over my chest at first and look at myself in the mirror. My thumb is between my lips, and I’m ready to chew my nails off. I want to skip, holler, cry, and laugh all at once. As I stand there and watch the control box light up my heart pounds harder. Eventually, my hands wrap around my middle, and I hold on tightly, waiting, watching. There’s a hole in the center of my chest that will fill with warmth if it’s positive. I can feel it. Accident or not, I want this baby. I would never have had the guts to plan a pregnancy and welcome a little life into the world. Not in a million years.

My stomach sours as I wait and watch. It’s two minutes of torture. Two minutes of surfacing dreams, things I’d never say, wishes I never dreamed before now. My nails dig into my arms as I turn away from the test. So far there’s no second line, nothing. I can’t stand looking, watching and seeing nothing happen. Maybe I’m not pregnant at all. Maybe it’s stress going totally batshit crazy. I want to cry. I feel like I lost the baby I never had. A tear rolls down my cheek, messing up my makeup.

“Stop crying," I scold myself aloud. "There are other, more pressing things happening tonight. Focus, Avery!” I suck in a deep breath of air, straighten my spine and turn to pick up the test and throw it in the trash.

When I glance down at the piece of plastic, there’s a second line.

I’m pregnant.

I
gasp
, and it turns into a happy squee. I giggle and pick up the stick I peed on and jump up and down. I want to tell someone, but I can’t tell Sean yet. We have to get through tonight first. There’s a good chance I won’t make it out of this and he will. He’ll survive because he always has. I believe that. I have to believe it or go nuts thinking about the alternative. I couldn’t let him go through losing a child again. He’ll die inside. The monster will consume him, fully this time.

I yank open the door and beam at the clerk. “I’m pregnant.” My voice is shaking, and my hands tremble. I’m still holding the stick like it’s a bar of gold.

She smiles, full wattage at me. “Congratulations! You’re going to be a great mom. I can tell how much you want this baby. It wasn’t planned, was it?”

I shake me head. “Not at all. I’m on the pill. I’m not sure what happened.”

She shrugs. “Life happens unexpectedly sometimes.”

I love that song. I nod at her. “Yes, it does.”

H
oly shit
. There’s a baby inside of me. A baby! This can’t be happening. I’m so excited I can’t think. I fly to Black’s and realize I need to slow down and focus. She cannot know about this. Ever. I need to be a cold businesswoman, just like her. If Black doesn’t believe me, if she isn’t certain I’m done with Sean and will do anything for whatever comes next, I’m screwed—we all are. I let out one more baby squee and lock the thought in the back of my mind along with a bunch of other things I can’t deal with right now.

This part of the plan weighs heavily on my shoulders, crushing me. I roll to a stop in front of Black’s office building.

“You can do this, Avery. You can do this,” I chant, not really believing. I yank on the rearview mirror, intending to give myself a more elaborate pep talk. It comes off in my hand. I look down at the plastic clip on the back and flip the mirror over in my palm. The glass shines up at me, and I start laughing. Even though Sean repaired and restored this car from bumper to bumper, it still had an original part. I smile to myself and sink back in my seat.

My life has taken a wild tangent, flying into territory I would never have dared to glance at, leading me to walk into a war zone as the prey and the prize. No wonder why Mom was always frantic. They hid this from me so well that I never had a clue. Dad always made sure we were under the radar and Mom was a mom. What more could a kid ask for?

Leaning forward in my seat, I place the mirror on the dashboard and run my hand over my tummy one last time thinking it’s a girl. It must be. I can feel it, which makes no sense.

I say to the baby, for the first time and possibly the last, “You and I won’t run. We won’t hide. We’ll be free from all of this. I promise you that.”

Determination I didn’t know I possessed flows up my spine, straightening me, filling me with courage. I will survive. I’ll get through this. I have to do it. For her.

* * *

W
hen the elevator doors open
, Gabe is there. He’s in his black suit and white shirt. A dark tie is knotted around his neck, and his well-worn shoes are freshly shined. He nods at me, and presses a button with one beefy finger, taking us to the top floor.

“Good evening, Miss Stanz.”

“Hey, Gabe.” I stand with my shoulders back, eyes straight ahead.

He says nothing about Mel or Sean. Nothing about tonight’s plan, but I know he has my back. I nod at him when the doors slide open, then exit the elevator. In long sleek strides, I pace across the floor, passing empty desks, and walk straight into Black’s office without knocking.

“Hello, Miss Black.” I speak with authority, with confidence I didn’t feel until a few moments ago.

She’s at her desk, annoyed I entered unbidden. “Avery, your manners could use work.”

“As could yours.” I’m clutching my purse in front of me and tip my chin up.

Black offers a half smirk and rises. A red dress hugs her slender form, scooping at the neck, and following her figure down to just below her knee. A thick gold chain hangs around her neck with three decorative keys dangling on the end. Each is a different shade of gold—yellow, white, and rose gold. One key is simple, plain, while another has diamonds glittering along the shaft. They're the keys from her nightstand, the set hidden in the secret drawer. Her lips are blood red. Coupled with her angular features, dark eye makeup, and dark hair, she’s immaculate. No better than that. Miss Black always looks better than everyone. She prides herself on it.

She arches a perfectly plucked brow as she saunters toward me, her slender arms loosely folded across her ample chest. “Did we grow a backbone?” She stops in front of me, looks down into my face less than a foot away.

“Perhaps it was there all along.” I’m careful not to smirk and repress my emotions, hiding them. They’ll fuck me over royally. I have to be cold, mirror her exactly. She needs to think I like her, that I want to be like her. She needs to believe it wholeheartedly.

Black laughs lightly. “I would have seen it.”

“I know you did.” I step closer to her and meet her intense gaze. Black isn’t the type of woman you fuck around with. She’ll wipe the floor with me if I piss her off. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance. I hope I’m on the right side because eating carpet doesn’t sound appealing. “You saw it in me from day one. You knew my potential, and you called me out. I was the fool who denied it.”

Black inhales slowly, like she’s drawing on a cigarette. Her eyes are locked on mine, crushing me under her gaze. “Flattery is unbecoming.”

“Facts,” I correct, “are far from flattery, Miss Black.”

She narrows her eyes to slits and sweeps her gaze over me. With a manicured nail she points to the scale. “Do it. Stop wasting time.” Her last three words aren’t sharp. I can tell she likes having her ego stroked, so I don’t see it coming when she blindsides me.

I drop the dress and stand on the scale. She measures me, writes it down, and then sits on the edge of her desk without giving me permission to dress. So I stand there, scantily clad, staring at her polished, red, fuck-me heels.

Her voice is deep, direct, and laced with a warning tone. She balances the pen between her fore and middle fingers, moving it up and down. A fidgeting movement that isn’t like her at all. I wait for her to speak and remain quiet, taking in the tension in her jaw and the way she tries to look relaxed, but she doesn’t quite pull it off. I wouldn’t have seen it when I first met her, but I do now. She’s worried.

“I have a problem, Avery. A very serious dilemma. How am I to know, to be entirely confident you’ll do whatever I ask without question tonight? In the past, you’ve proven reckless, and with this client, you can’t be. You have to obey me completely without any insight, without any reason. I don’t think you’re capable of it. Your figure, yes, it’s perfect. He prefers a woman with wider hips, even in an advisory role. But your discipline is utterly lacking.”

I don’t argue with her. I feel the entire plan shifting out of my hands, heading toward a free-fall. It has to be now, tonight. Everything is in place. For a moment, I think she knows we were in her house. Maybe Connie told her. Maybe she noticed the missing letter opener. Damn it.

In the past, my thoughts would have played across my face like a movie, but not tonight. I stand there, shoulders squared, relaxed but confident. A thought crosses my mind. It’s slightly insane but I noticed it before, and it’s impossible to ignore now. The way Black’s eyes linger on my hips and the swell of my breasts. They remain there too long. Her lips part and she blinks slowly, thinking about something she can’t have—something she wants to do but knows she shouldn’t.

I act. She has to believe it’s sincere, or it won’t work. I’m not this woman. I don’t feel this way—but I know she does. I step toward her in my heels and inhale slowly, letting the air make my chest rise. My breasts strain against the sheer lace, filling the bra. I come within a whisper of Black’s face, close enough to kiss her, but not touching. I move my lips slowly, careful to barely brush the side of her mouth when I speak.

“Perhaps you never realized where my loyalties truly reside.” I pull back slightly, enough for her to catch my eye. When our gazes lock, my pulse roars in my ears.

Her gaze drops to my lips, then my bra, and back to my mouth. “Loyalty is rare.”

“I’m aware.”

Black eyes me cautiously, but she doesn’t pull away. “What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing that you don’t already want.” The words drip off my lips, slowly, surely.

Black is enthralled, watching me closely, breathing so hard that her chest swells making her tits brush mine for a moment before she exhales. Black lingers, fighting it. She knows I’m dead, gone after tonight. I suspected she wanted me, but I had no idea how much. Standing this close this long is tormenting her, but Black can’t seem to pull herself back together. I rattled the woman with the heart of stone.

I risk lifting my hand and picking up a strand of her dark hair, letting it fall in a soft curl by her eyes. I sweep it back softly, barely touching her skin and she shudders. I finally get her. I understand her. Sex is power, but she has no interest in men. Not now. Her interest in Sean was never about him—it was me. She wanted me for herself. This changes things. I can use this. It might save us.

I chance it. I have to. There are too many lives on the line, and not just my own. I lean in, and close the distance between us, brushing my lips against hers. She stops breathing, freezes. The pen falls from her fingers and rolls under her desk. I lower my lashes and focus on her lips, pretending she’s Sean. I think about how excited it makes him to have me so close, and then I forget myself for a moment. Eyes closed, I lean in and press my lips fully to hers, stroking her seam with my tongue. Black shudders and gasps before crumbling. Her hand finds my cheek, and I force myself to make that hand Sean’s. I pretend she’s him, lean into her palm and kiss her deeper. She purrs into my mouth and tangles her nails in my hair as she stands and presses her body to mine.

A voice and the rap, rap, rap of knuckles on the open door sound from behind me. “Is this a new job requirement?” Mel asks, half joking.

Trembling, Black pulls away quickly. Her eyes flash with a softness I’ve never seen on her. I’m not the one who breaks the kiss. I’m not the one who pulls away. She does and practically skitters behind her desk like a spooked cat. Mel caught her so off-guard that Black can’t seem to speak, so I do.

“Yeah, come here.” I hold out my arms to her and grin.

Mel snorts and waves a hand at me. “If it’s all the same to you, I prefer men.”

I shrug my shoulders and lie, “That’s what I thought until rather recently.” I turn and look at Black over my shoulder with a serene confidence I sure as hell don't feel. My mind was going nuts, and my body was fucking confused. Add in a baby lotion commercial, and I’ll act completely insane in every possible way all at once.

Mel gives me a WTF look when Black has her eyes on the floor. I shrug like it’s not a big deal and then give her a look that says to drop it. “Switching teams?” There’s a dual meaning to her question, a sharpness about it that worries me.

Black gains control of herself again. Her head snaps up, and she scolds Mel. “Choosing sides isn’t necessarily a switch, not when she’s had no choice in the matter. I apologize for overlooking that aspect of things. It won’t happen again.”

Mel’s jaw drops, and I smile. “Don’t apologize. Ever. You're better than that. Better than all of us.”

Mel’s eyes widen as her forehead wrinkles, but Black doesn’t see it. Her eyes are on me, locked with mine. I either just made the best decision or the worst one possible. It’s still too soon to tell.

Black watches me, her eyes soft and her expression unreadable. I have no idea what she’s thinking, but when she snaps out of it and glances at Mel, she’s back to her old self. “Ladies, tonight’s client has unusual tastes. I’m glad to see you’re willing to go the extra mile, Miss Stanz.”

The way she looks at me makes my cheeks burn. I don’t hide my face. I just nod. It doesn’t escape my notice that she uses my last name. She favors formality with those she respects. This set me apart from Mel in her mind. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing, but at least now I know what frazzles her. It might help me gain the upper hand if I lose it tonight. I’ll do anything, try anything to get through this. I don’t like the thought of Black ending up in a body bag, but it’s a necessary evil. Zipped, lifeless, and behind a layer of plastic is the only way I’ll be free from her.

Something in the back of my mind cries out, forcing a tremor down my arms. My skin prickles in unison, from fingertips to neck, in a quick wave. It takes everything I have to keep the emotions off my face, to remain stoic—strong. But I feel it all the same. The blood on my hands, the man I shot—the man that rests in the woods. His location is unknown. His family never saw him again. He vanished without a trace, and I was the one responsible. I know it was self-defense, but that doesn’t do a thing for my conscience. I could have and should have tried to find another way. The man would have lived. I could have survived. Killing is never justified, and yet, here I am preparing to slaughter the people trying to kill me. It’s a preemptive move. It’s justified. But part of me knows it’s not. The part of me that's shoved into my mental closet, locked away forever, banished from the light of day because I can’t face those facts, cries out in anguish. I don’t like who I’ve become. It’s too late to change course. If I do, my friends die with me.

Black blinks at me, waiting for a response to a question that I didn’t hear. Mel widens her eyes and pulls her brows together giving me an ‘answer her, you idiot’ face.

At some point, the skeletons in my closet turned into demons. They aren’t lifeless, waiting to be discovered. They’re brewing just below the surface, always there, eager for a chance to ruin me. I’m not a fool. I know sifting through the things I’ve done will only make me crumble. If I have to be a fucking sociopath to live through tonight, I will be—I’ll do it. I won’t think twice. I’ll slaughter myself to make sure my baby has a chance to live. I’ll destroy any chance I have at reconciling who I am with what I’ve done if it means Sean will be able to hold his daughter. I wonder if this how Constance ended up the way she is, if she got too close to the edge of the slippery slope and once fallen, couldn’t rise. The race to the bottom isn’t glorious. It isn't noble. It’s despicable, and I’m part of it. I’m no better than Constance. No better than Black. I swallow hard as these thoughts flicker through my mind. They come in a rapid burst that barely consumes the time it takes to exhale.