Illicit Temptations (Tempted Series Book 1) (3 page)

I shut off the water took a deep breath, deciding it was time to face the music. When I emerged from the bathroom, I found Victor was sitting at the foot of my bed. He was hunched over his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He slowly lifted his head to look me in the eye.

I crossed my arms against my chest and tried my hardest to find my voice. “What are you doing here Victor?”

He slowly stood, rising to his full height. “I came as soon as I heard of the accident. I hoped that it wasn’t as bad as it is. I was praying…”

“You pray?” I asked incredulously. The thought sounded ridiculous.

His lips curved slightly, but he shook his head as if he was shaking away the smile that threatened. “I pray,” he confirmed before he paused a moment. “I wanted to be here for you.”

“Why now?” I asked harshly gritting my teeth desperately holding on to my pride.

“Son, I was only honoring your mother’s wishes all these years,” Victor whispered. His gray eyes looking into mine. I could tell he was being sincere still I didn’t want to hear it.

I squinted, not sure what he meant by that. What were my mother’s wishes? And why were they not important anymore as she lay on her deathbed? Shouldn’t they matter still?

I shook my head. I didn’t even understand how he was here. How had he found out about her accident or the fact that she was in a vegetative state? How did Victor know there was no hope for my mother?

“She’s not dead yet,” I swallowed the lump in my throat. The words catching as I acknowledged that my mother was dying. Technically, she was dead already. There was no brain activity, but she was still here in body but not in spirit. I felt the hot rush of fresh tears sting my eyes. I would not cry in front of this man. I turned my head. “Her wishes still matter.” I croaked.

“They do, but your father’s do too, and it’s high time I honor his,” Victor said quickly, as if he had been reading from a script. He stepped closer towards me, causing me to step to the side. I didn’t want him invading my space. “I promised you I’d be there for you. I failed you all these years and I will not sit here and make excuses for that, but I will not stay away and let you bury another parent. I will not let you say goodbye to your mother by yourself.”

My teeth sank into my bottom lip as it quivered. I turned my head as the tear fell from my eye. I couldn’t control it. I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t numb anymore. I felt my heart being ripped from my chest. I felt Victor’s words slice through me. The reality of my situation sinking in I blinked turning to face him wiping angrily away at the tear that betrayed me by falling free. I tried to prepare myself. I knew miracles weren’t granted to folks like us and that’s what it would take for my mother to make it out of this. I told myself that at least I would be able to say goodbye. I’d be able to tell my mother all the things I never had a chance to tell my father before he died. Somehow, that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Somewhere along the way, I forgot what I wanted to say. Tomorrow would come sooner rather than later and for the life of me, I didn’t know how to say goodbye.

I bowed my head, resigning to my grief and let the tears flow freely
. I closed my eyes welcoming the flash of a memory of my mother’s smiling face engulf me. She was laughing as my father spun her around the kitchen dancing as they often did to one of their songs. I was just a child peeking at his parents sharing in one of life’s simple moments. A moment so pure and beautiful. A memory I will cherish.
I felt strong arms wrap around me as I wept. I cried for the little boy inside who clung to the memories of his parents. I cried for the teenager who faced the crucial years without his father. I cried for the man who had to say goodbye to the only woman he ever loved. I cried in Victor’s arms.

“You’re not alone…,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’ll never be alone.” He vowed much as he did all those years ago. Only this time I silently wished he’d be a man of his word.

I stared at the framed photo of my parents that I kept on my dresser wondering to myself how things had gone so incredibly wrong for my parents how their lives were both cut short tragically. I kissed the tips of my index and middle finger pressing them to the glass of the frame before stuffing the frame into my duffel bag. I zipped the bag closed, taking one last glance around my bedroom. I walked around the bed towards my closet door, grabbing the garment bag that hung from the top of the door containing my one and only suit. I hooked my finger around the hanger and threw the bag over my shoulder. I swallowed the lump in my throat gripping the handles of the duffel bag and headed towards the door.

I told myself I’d be coming back here after I buried my mother, whom I watched just hours ago draw her last breath but deep down I knew the truth. I could never come back to this place, with my mother gone now there was nothing for me here. No one was left in my life who gave a damn about me. Not that I deserved my mother’s unconditional love I have been nothing but a pain in the ass to her since the day I fucked up my knee and they told me I couldn’t play football anymore. But my mother the saint that she had been tried so hard to keep me on the straight and narrow encouraging me at every turn in my life. There was no one left to be on my side to root for my successes and bestow words of wisdom when I failed. I was utterly alone.

Irrationally, I blamed Victor and my dad now for her death. Granted, no one actually murdered my mother, but if it hadn’t been for my father dying my mother never would’ve moved us out here and never would’ve been on that interstate that stormy night. Her car never would’ve flipped three times and I wouldn’t be heading back to New York to add another name on the tombstone that marked our family plot if they hadn’t made the choices they had in life.

I had to hand it to Victor though, no matter how much of a dickhead, I was being to him, he still seemed to be trying to get into my good graces. When Victor offered me a job back home, I actually contemplated taking him up on his offer.

He wanted me to run the new nightclub he was opening. He was giving me a chance at a legitimate life respecting my mother’s wishes all the while still abiding by my father’s. I shrugged him off and told him I’d think about it not committing myself to anything. The first thing I had to do was get through this funeral.

I stepped into the living room, ignoring my audience, I made my way to the liquor cabinet. I grabbed the half a bottle of bourbon twisting off the cap I took a hefty gulp. I felt three pairs of eyes on me and could give a fuck less. I’d offer them a shot, but I was a greedy motherfucker. The liquid burned my throat and warmed my belly. I clutched the liquor bottle as if it was my salvation still managing to hold the duffel bag in my hand. I glanced over at the three men that had barged in here last night, then stood by my side while I said goodbye to my mom this morning and now waited to take me back home.

Victor slowly stood up, his eyes firmly planted on me as he buttoned his suit jacket. “You about ready son?”

It burned my ass that he called me son, but I left it alone for the time being. I took another swig of bourbon the liquid burning my throat, making it hard for me to speak. “Just about,” I croaked.

I peered at him as the dapper don shoved one hand into his pants pocket as he looked over his shoulder at Jimmy. “Jim
bring the car around.”

Jimmy pulled the toothpick he was chewing on out of his mouth before nodding. “You got it boss.”

I refrained from rolling my eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder if my father jumped at Victor’s every command much like Jimmy did.

“You can ride back with Anthony,” Victor said patting Anthony on the back as he walked passed him. “Give you two some time to catch up.” He stopped to stand right in front of me, his eyes drifting down towards the bottle I was clutching. “Go easy on that, huh.” He said with a nod of his head towards the bottle.

I brought the bottle up to my mouth grinning as I took another shot. I’ll be damned if I’m going to take orders from him. I watched his jaw tick ever so slightly and he watched me silently. I took a deep breath shuddering as the alcohol filled me. Victor stared at me for a moment the wheels in his head no doubt turning. I’m sure if I was anyone else he would’ve had a few choice words for me, but with my mother having died just hours ago he kept his mouth shut. He glanced over his shoulder at Anthony and then nodded towards the door.

He granted me one last nod before heading towards the front door. I waited a moment before I took another sip of bourbon watching as Anthony followed him to the door. I didn’t even bother to strain myself to hear what Victor said to him in hushed tones. I imagine it went something along the lines of ‘take care of him’ or maybe ‘don’t let him get drunk’. Either way I was sure my old friend was my newly appointed babysitter for the ride back home to hell.

Once Victor closed, the door behind him Anthony and I stared at one another in an awkward silence, giving me the opportunity to size him up. He was a big brute of a guy standing about six feet three inches tall with his dark hair slicked back. I swear the guy had stock in a gel company somewhere. He had the same hairstyle since I could remember the only difference now was that at the age of thirty he had some gray hairs creeping along his hairline. His face was young, not a line on his olive skin. However, his crystal blue eyes were hard and uninviting when you looked at them. Anthony was as intimidating as they came. He could take you to your knees with one cold hard stare. He was wearing a black fitted T-shirt despite the cold temperatures and the fact that it was January. He had bulked up since I had last seen him not to mention he had gotten some ink. He had full sleeves of tattoos covering his arms. I guess I’d be shitting my pants if I didn’t know him or maybe if I actually gave a fuck.

“Where are your keys?” He asked, seemingly running out of patience. Someone didn’t like the fact that they had to babysitting the drunken orphan. Are you still considered an orphan at twenty-six? I squinted, trying to figure out why he needed my keys. He sighed heavily. “Mike, let’s get some shit out of the way, yeah? I’m really sorry you lost your mother. I get that you’re mourning and I can’t imagine the pain you’re going through but I’m not Victor. I’m not going to remain silent and catch an attitude from your ass. I’m not into playing games don’t have any fucking patience for them. So I’m going to ask you again where are your keys?”

I looked at him for a moment raising an eyebrow at his no nonsense tone. It was then I realized that while I was passing through one shit storm after another my brother my best friend grew up. Hell, he could’ve been married with a fleet of kids for all I knew. I’d even gather that he was high in the ranks when it came to Victor’s organization. I set down the bottle of liquor on the table reaching into my pocket for my keys I held them out towards him.

“Is there any gas in that piece of shit truck of yours or are we going to have to first stop at the gas station?” He said as he took the keys from my hand reaching for the garment bag.

“Wait, why are we taking my truck?” I asked, wondering how much I actually had to drink.

“How do you suppose we get back to New York? We going to spread our wings and fly?” He turned around, mumbled what sounded like a bunch of curses to me, and walked out the front door.

I stood there half sloshed half mind-fucked. If I strained my brain it made sense that the three of them came here in one car why didn’t the four of us drive back together? That I couldn’t wrap my head around. It was probably wiser not to ask questions and just go with the flow seeing as how Anthony was currently on the rag.

I took a deep breath headed to the door, turning back to glance over my shoulder at the home I would leave behind. In that moment I realized why my mother was so hell bent on moving from the home we had lived in with my father. Finally understanding her need to escape the demon's death left behind I stepped outside closing the door softly behind me. What’s that saying? When one door closes, another opens? So that’s what I did. I closed the door on my mother’s death only to open the one that would lead me down the trail of reliving my father’s.

“Wake up princess.” Anthony says, shoving my shoulder forcefully. I groggily blink my eyes open, realizing I must’ve dozed off on the ride. It’s not really a surprise being as how Anthony is a miserable fuck. Seriously, what happened to this guy? He used to be fun at least I thought so. He didn’t say more than two words when we started this little excursion back to New York. It’s no wonder I fell asleep.

I sat up straight and looked out the window. Grumpy pulled over at a rest stop and got out of the car.

“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I winced as the sun pierced my fully open eyes. Christ, I was going to be fucking blind.

“Need to take a leak,” Anthony mumbled before slamming the door in my face. Nice. I shielded my eyes with one of my hands and opened the door with the other. It felt as if my body had been beaten everything ached.

It was no use trying to catch up to Anthony, who was already inside the rest stop. I don’t know what the fuck his problem is. I stretched my legs out and my arms over my head as I glanced over at a sign. New York, 82 miles away. I groaned and decided to check out the newsstand inside the rest stop praying they had a pair of sunglasses. I made my way inside the newsstand, my stomach growled and I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I ate anything. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and a bag of chips. The sunglasses were by the register so I made my way towards the counter and spotted Anthony paying for two cups of coffee. Bless his heart. I grabbed the first pair of sunglasses I saw not giving a shit what they looked like and pulled the tags off pushing them onto the bridge of my nose. The dark lenses acted as a mask as I balked at the wad of money Anthony produced from inside his jean pocket.