Greed Page 5

  A knock on the sitting room door garnered my attention.

  “Come in,” Lorenzo urged whoever it was in an unconcerned tone.

  A guy with close-cropped hair and a beard dressed in a suit made his way into the room. He stepped behind Lorenzo and bent to whisper in his ear. Lorenzo nodded at whatever the guy said. I waited for him to reply to the guy, but he didn’t. The guy left the room as quickly as he entered. My gaze dipped back to Lorenzo. I tried to gauge whether what the guy said was good or bad, but, like always, he was hard to read.

  “It seems you two are correct in thinking Greed is gone. You are also correct to assume that the underworld is in an uproar and that some are searching for you. They want answers.” He took a swig from his drink, and then stared at the ice cubes floating in it. “They are also searching for Eden. I doubt they will find her. However, they will find both of you easily.”

  “Which is why we’re here for your help.” Sterling leaned forward, resting his elbow against his knee. “Brother, we need your protection.”

  Lorenzo nodded. “Rightfully so.” His eyes shifted to me. They were intense and intimidating. “You will be easy to hide. Since you’re human, charms and spells will work well on you.”

  Charms and spells? Neither sounded like something I wanted to be tangled up in now that I had a chance to be free from the supernatural world, but I would risk being sucked back in if it meant those from the underworld didn’t find me.

  As long as there wasn’t a crazy cost.

  My gaze drifted to Lorenzo. Did I already have a running tab going by accepting his help?

  “What do I owe you?” I asked him without thinking my words through. The whiskey flooding my system had made me bold and brave.

  Amusement shone in his dark eyes. “Not a thing.”

  His words were clear, but something in his eyes had me believing he could change his mind at any moment. It unsettled me.

  “What about me? You never said how you can help me,” Sterling insisted. Worry laced his words.

  “You, little brother, are a different story. It will not be as easy to hide you from the underworld, but it will be easy to grant you my protection.” Lorenzo tapped the side of his glass with his ring. It was a gesture that reminded me of Dickhead and caused the unease pooling through my middle to swell.

  “Which means?” Sterling asked.

  Lorenzo’s eyes fixed on him. “You will live here. You will work for me, and you will be protected.”

  Sterling took a long swig from his drink. He didn’t try to negotiate with Lorenzo. Instead, he seemed to agree to his terms with silence. A wide grin twisted across Lorenzo’s face, reminding me of the way a cat looks when it finally catches a mouse.

  What the hell had Sterling gotten us into?

  Chapter Seven

  I woke the next morning to the sound of someone tapping on my door. My face was buried in one of the softest pillows I’d ever felt in my life. I reluctantly rolled over in the king-size bed, unhappily plucked from my dreams of Alayna.

  “Yeah?” I called out, my voice groggy. The word rattled through my brain, echoing for far too long.

  I’d had way too much to drink last night.

  The door to the room Lorenzo was nice enough to let me sleep in swung open. The petite blonde who’d helped place a jackhammer inside my head stepped into the room. She carried a glass of water in one hand and a pill bottle in the other.

  “Mr. Angelo requested that I bring you these. He also says breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes. Afterward, Giselle will see you,” she said in her soft tone.

  I sat up and took the bottle of aspirin from her. “Who’s Giselle?”

  Was this the name of the witch Lorenzo said would help me?

  “She’s who will handle your situation.” Her words were cryptic enough to send a jolt of alarm ringing through me. I didn’t like the way she worded her reply. It immediately put me on high alert.

  “So, she’s a witch?” I asked before popping an aspirin in my mouth and swallowing. “One who’s going to help me with the underworld thing?”

  The blonde smiled. She had a set of full lips and bright green eyes. They reminded me of Alayna’s eyes.

  “Yes,” the blonde said as she left the room. “Don’t keep Mr. Angelo waiting.”

  I arched a brow after her. “Noted.”

  I assumed Mr. Angelo was Lorenzo. While I didn’t know much about the guy, I at least now knew his last name.

  Once I’d downed half the glass of water, I set it on the nightstand and slipped out of bed. The tone the blonde had used when she mentioned I shouldn’t keep Lorenzo waiting floated through my head. It seemed as though her words were less of a statement and more of a warning. I ran a hand through my hair, deciding then that I didn’t want to find out what happened to those who made the guy wait.

  I bent at the waist to grab my suit off the floor. God, I was sick of wearing this thing. It was all I had, though.

  Literally.

  The realization that I had nothing else to my name besides this one fucking suit slammed into me. I hadn’t been able to return to my lamp for any personal possessions once I was suddenly human again. I had no money. No car.

  Hell, I didn’t even have a toothbrush.

  My hands smoothed over my face. I pulled in a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and then exhaled slowly. It didn’t help. The reality of the situation was whether I trusted Lorenzo Angelo or not, I didn’t have a choice. He was my only chance at making sure the underworld didn’t find me and at having a fresh start with Alayna. Things would work out. They had to.

  “One step at a time, Blythe. One step at a time,” I muttered to myself while I pulled on my shirt.

  Once I’d dressed fully and relieved my bladder, I exited my room and stepped into the hall. The scent of bacon and coffee hung in the air. My stomach twisted with hunger. I had no clue where the kitchen was in this massive house, but decided to follow my nose and see where it led me. This house didn’t seem like one a person would survive being lost in. Not because of its size, but because of its owner. I was beginning to think Lorenzo was into some pretty dicey things. Things not entirely legal. Things that might cost me my life should I stumble upon them.

  My mind ran rampant with ideas as to what his career choice was—drugs, sex trafficking, the mob—while I continued to the kitchen.

  Thankfully, this was where my nose led me.

  “Good morning,” Lorenzo said. He sat at the head of an exceptionally long glass dining table, reading a newspaper. His eyes didn’t lift from its pages when he greeted me, but somehow, he’d still known I had entered the room. “Please, join me. Vinchenzo will have breakfast ready in a moment.”

  I glanced at the muscular guy in the kitchen, busy flipping something in a pan. His eyes never moved to me either. In fact, he never acknowledged my presence, but instead continued working at a fast pace as he moved from one area of the kitchen to the other like a well-oiled machine.

  While I wasn’t a huge fan of eye contact, it still struck me as strange that none had been made so far. This place was giving me the heebie-jeebies.

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling obligated to say something, as I made my way to sit at the table.

  “You’re welcome. Sterling will be down shortly. After breakfast, Giselle shall join us. I’ve already filled her in on your dilemma. She will come prepared with a solution for your situation, rest assured.”

  I swallowed hard. What would her solution be? My head pounded as the question looped through my mind. I reached up and massaged my temple. The scent of eggs sent nausea twisting through my gut. I needed something to eat, but definitely not eggs. Toast maybe.

  Vinchenzo placed a glass of orange juice in front of me. Bits of pulp floated along its surface. I was positive it was freshly squeezed. Lorenzo didn’t seem like the type to settle for anything less in his house.

  “Drink it.” Vinchenzo nodded to the glass. “If you still feel like crap, let me
know. I’ll give you a shot of somethin’ else.”

  I gave a nervous chuckle. The guy was a beast. He could clearly double as a bodyguard. “Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be drinking again for a while,” I said as I took a sip from the juice. It was tangy, but surprisingly good.

  Vinchenzo laughed. “I wasn’t talking about alcohol. I was talking about pickle juice.”

  “Pickle juice?” Just the thought of it sent a shiver of disgust down my spine.

  “It doesn’t sound appealing, I know, but pickle juice is the cure to any hangover. It replenishes the body quick, rehydrating you,” Vinchenzo insisted. He made his way back to the stove and resumed flipping what I could now see was bacon sizzling in a pan. “Most people reach for coffee, thinking it’ll wake them up and get rid of their headache thanks to the caffeine, but all coffee does after a night of binge drinking is dehydrate a person even more. Orange juice lifts sugar levels and provides vitamin C, and pickle juice replenishes salt and hydrates. Trust me on this.”

  Lorenzo lowered the paper he’d been reading and leaned his elbows against the glass tabletop. “While it might not sound like it would work, rest assured that I’ve put Vinchenzo’s craziness to the test multiple times over the years. It works like magic.”

  Was it just me or was there a challenge reflected in his dark eyes? If there was, I wasn’t about to bite. Instead, I took another sip of orange juice and averted my gaze.

  Footsteps in the hall captured my attention.

  Please be Sterling. Please be Sterling.

  “Why did you send Greta to wake me?” Sterling demanded as he smoothed a hand through his ruffled hair.

  Lorenzo leaned back in his chair and resumed reading his paper. “I remember how difficult you used to be to rouse. You need someone who uses force.”

  “Okay, well the keyword there is used to,” Sterling said as he sat in the chair beside me. Pillow creases marked the entire right side of his face. He must have been sleeping well.

  “That’s two words,” Lorenzo insisted with heavy sarcasm.

  Now these two were sounding like brothers. Finally.

  “Anyway, my point is that I don’t need Greta to wake me,” Sterling complained. “She’s harsh. And, handsy.” A visible shiver slipped through him and I fought not to laugh.

  Lorenzo glanced at him over the top of his newspaper. He arched a brow. “Are you telling me that you don’t like things rough, little brother?”

  A shit-eating grin splashed across Sterling’s face. “Depends on the woman.” He shook his head, I imagined having remembered whom they were talking about. “If it’s Greta, my answer is no. It will always be no.”

  In my mind, I tried to envision this woman who had Sterling so uncomfortable. I pictured a big burly woman. The type always depicted as giving painful deep tissue massages.

  “Kink I can handle, but not when it comes to that woman,” Sterling continued. “She takes pleasure in hurting others. Specifically, me. She’s always enjoyed inflicting pain on me right after she feels me up.”

  “Maybe it’s because she has the hots for you, man.” Vinchenzo laughed as he plated breakfast.

  Sterling rolled his eyes. “Yeah well, I figured after all this time she would’ve found someone else to crush on. Literally.”

  “Time makes the heart grow fonder,” Vinchenzo insisted as he carried three plates to the table and placed them in front of each of us. “Enjoy.” He nodded to Lorenzo before heading back to the kitchen to begin tidying up.

  I narrowed my eyes on him without thinking. Lorenzo lifted his gaze as though he’d somehow felt my stare, and I dropped my gaze to my food. What did this man do to earn everyone’s respect? My stomach hardened.

  Was I confusing respect for fear?

  After breakfast, the three of us moved to the same room we’d been in last night. This time, alcohol wasn’t served, but coffee was. My headache had dwindled to something barely there. I attributed it to the aspirin, water, and the glass of orange juice Vinchenzo had given me. I’d opted to skip the pickle juice.

  We hadn’t been sitting long when a woman with long dark wavy hair, olive skin, and a purple flowing dress entered the room. Tattoos covered her arms and peeked from beneath the neckline of her dress. She gripped a black leather bag so tightly her knuckles were white as she walked farther into the room. Her chin was high, and she had an air of confidence about her that was sexy.

  Still, it was clear something had her on edge. Was it Lorenzo? The situation?

  “Giselle,” Sterling whispered. So much emotion laced his tone that my eyes shifted to him. He knew her. Well. In fact, I was willing to bet they had some sort of history. Was he the reason she’d gone rigid? “What are you doing here? I thought you—”

  “You thought what? That I was destroyed when you left? That I crumbled or couldn’t move on? Don’t flatter yourself,” Giselle snapped. Her eyes were like twin daggers aimed directly at Sterling. She shifted her attention to me before they had a chance to soften. Sterling had scorned this woman, and I was willing to bet she wasn’t going to leave today without giving him an earful about it. “I understand you need to be hidden from the underworld for various reasons. I can help you with that.” She set the bag she held on the sofa beside me and rummaged through its contents.

  “How?” I asked, curious to know what I was getting myself into with her.

  Would I have to drink a potion? Give her some of my blood while she chanted with burning candles dancing around the room?

  I had never spent time around witches before. They were foreign to me.

  Giselle pulled a kit containing various needles from inside her bag and laid it on the sofa beside me. I cringed. What the hell was this chick about to do to me?

  “Giselle, I—”

  “Through a tattoo,” Giselle said, cutting Sterling off. He released a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “The symbols will hold power. That’s how my magic works.”

  My gaze drifted over the tattoos decorating her body. How much power was in each?

  “Giselle, would you please just listen to me,” Sterling tried again. He slipped from his chair and stepped toward her.

  “Do you deserve for me to hear you out? Are you worthy of my time?” Giselle asked as she flashed him an icy stare from over her shoulder. The answer to each question burned through her eyes. If he knew what was good for him, he’d drop the subject. “Whatever excuse you have isn’t something I want to hear. Excuses won’t explain why you left the way you did. The only thing that will is the truth. Until you’re ready to tell me that, I want nothing to do with you.” She shifted her attention back to her bag. When she pulled out a clear box filled with vials of different colored liquids, I squirmed in my seat.

  This was real. I was getting my first tattoo.

  “What type of symbol do you have to create for my particular situation?” I asked, suddenly curious about what I would be branded with for life. Hopefully, she didn’t take her anger for Sterling out on me and tattoo a dick on me somewhere. Tattooing was art, and art was one of those things you had to be in the right mindset for.

  I hoped she was in the right mindset.

  “You’re asking to be hidden from those in the underworld who seek you,” Giselle said as she opened the box of vials. She picked the one in the middle and held it up to the light before placing it on the coffee table. My gaze dipped to its inky liquid. “We need them to close their eyes to you. If someone’s eyes are closed, they cannot see. So, that’s what I’ll be tattooing on you. A closed eye. Do you have a preference as to where it goes?” She reached for her case of needles and chose one before inserting it into a small machine. It was cordless and looked more like a thick pen than a tattoo gun.

  Still, sweat beaded across my brow at the sight.

  Tattoos and piercings had never been something I’d wanted. I didn’t mind them on others, but they weren’t something I wanted for myself. They seemed too painful.

  “Well?” Gise
lle prompted, giving me a look that said she didn’t want me to waste any more of her time. It was clear she didn’t want to be here, thanks to Sterling. “Have you decided where you want it?” she asked as she loaded the ink into the pen.

  Was the ink magical? It sent a strange sensation through me, like when lightning strikes too close. The fine hairs along the back of my neck and along my arms stood on end as I continued to stare at it.

  A closed eye. That was my first tattoo. While I couldn’t choose what tattoo I got, I could choose where it went. At least that was something.

  “I,” I said, my mind drawing a blank. “Um.”

  This wasn’t something that should be rushed. This was important. It was permanent.

  “I suggest the inside of a wrist. The thin skin that runs there will let the magic into your bloodstream faster, which means it will take effect sooner. It will also be visible most of the time, which will give it more power,” Giselle said in a soft tone. She was mellowing out, which I took as a good sign.

  I licked my lips. “Okay, sure. My wrist works.”

  I held out my right wrist to her. She positioned herself beside me on the sofa, her cool fingers gripping my wrist. The electrical pulse I’d felt coming from the ink rippled through the air between us as she touched me. This woman held more magic in her pinky than anyone I’d ever met.

  Yep, Sterling was a damn fool for breaking her heart.

  “I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt,” Giselle said. She locked eyes with me as she poised the needle above the thin skin of my wrist. A sense of liveliness ignited behind her eyes. I didn’t know if it came from the excitement of tattooing someone for the first time or the magic she was about to brand me with. Either way, we were sharing a moment that I would never forget. “My magic is strong. It will burn like fire. I’ll need you to remain still. Can you do that?” The hint of a smile twisted at the corners of her lips, and I knew right then the liveliness in her eyes was because she was challenging my masculinity.

  “I can handle it,” I insisted, sounding far more confident than I felt. I bit the tip of my tongue, praying I wasn’t about to make a fool of myself.