Page 13 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)
Caelian
“C,you really think it’s a good idea?” Ms. Poitier asks, handing me a warm towel. “The girl’s only ever known life with her dance company.”
I scowl, snatching the towel from her hands and wrapping it around my waist. A frosted glass partition separates us. I’m fresh out of the shower, still dripping wet. Ms. Poitier stands on the other side as she always does, waiting to supply me with whatever I need. Stepping out from behind the partition, droplets of water clinging to the muscles of my bare chest, I give her a scolding glance.
She knows better than to question me on this. She’s well aware of the lengths I’ve gone to. The endless hours I’ve spent obsessed with this endeavor of mine.
My dreams are nothing new. They’ve been a recurring theme in my life for some time now.
The only salvation when the most debilitating kind of pain racks through my body.
Most people would beg for death. They’d seek a doctor unscrupulous enough to end it for them—or they’d simply end it themselves.
But I’ve survived.
My angel has seen me through the darkness, and she doesn’t even know she has.
I stride into the wide expanse of my bedroom and head straight into the closet. Ms. Poitier serves as my shadow, going where I go. She holds out her arms as I discard the towel and shrug on a crisp black dress shirt.
“You’ve devoted a lot of time to tracking the girl down. All I’m saying is there are other ways to go about this.”
My fingers work their way up the buttons ’til I’m on the second to last one. “She was always going to be sold.”
“But under different circumstances—normally, these kinds of transactions are done so more…humanely.”
“Is there such a thing as humane when buying and sell human beings?”
Ms. Poitier’s sparse silver brows knit together, contrasting her copper skin tone. “C, you know what I mean. Most women in her predicament… they’re aware of the stipulations in their contract. They simply expect things not to be so forceful.”
“Forceful?” I rumble like a beast.
“What else would you call it?” says the sixty-something-year-old woman I’ve known my entire life. Once upon a time, as a boy, she seemed so much larger and more intimidating. Now, she cranes her neck for a look up at me, her hands on her wide waist. “You drugged her and brought her to an unknown location where you plan to marry her. You’ve said all of two sentences to the girl. Both of which were creepy might I add.”
I bare my teeth at her, though it does nothing to intimidate her—Ms. Poitier has been dealing with violent mobsters her entire life. Even the devil himself would have trouble scaring her.
“What’s your plan if she doesn’t want to be married to you?”
“There is no alternative. That will be her fate.” I walk out of the closet dressed in my uniform for the night—an all-black suit that’s tailored to fit my large, muscled form. Every piece of clothing I own is personally tailored; when you’re my height and stature, it’s a requirement.
I buckle my gold watch onto my wrist and check my reflection.
Ms. Poitier can criticize my plans as much as she wants, but she can’t deny that I haven’t made an effort. I’ve put in work to make this situation as smooth as it possibly can be. If I were truly as cruel as she’s making me sound, Nevaeh would be chained up in a fucking cell.
Any further discussion on the matter is put on hold by the ring of my cell phone. Pa is video calling me. Ms. Poitier sighs as I turn my back to her and answer.
A second into the call, it’s evident Pa’s drunk. His skin’s tinged a rosy shade and he slurs his speech. But he’s not alone—Coreno and Cristian are seated in the background of his office, nursing their own drinks.
“You fuckingleccaculo!” Pa yells.
“You’re in high spirits.”
“Don’t you mouth off to me! Don’t I give you everything? My only son, I treat you like fucking gold,” he slurs over the phone.
“What about me?” Cristian asks. “There you go again, Pa. Treating me like chopped liver.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Pa pauses long enough for an infuriated glare in Cristian’s direction and then turns his ire back on me. “I’ve been good to you, Caelian. Better than most men are to their sons. And yet you can’t do one lil’ thing for me. A damn disgrace!”
I straighten my cuff links, my tone bored. “Is this about the Vorone meeting?”