Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
“Yes,” respectfully leaves my lips in a muted volume.
“Intriguing,” the woman at the head of the table purrs prior to enjoying another swallow. “You may continue.”
“I am requesting the use of one of your yachts or ships or bigger boats-”
“Watercraft vehicles.”
“And-”
“Two requests?” She returns her glass to the table. “Are these your dying wishes, Fiorenzo?”
“Quite possibly,” mirthfully slips loose in a way that causes the corner of her lip to twitch. “I – theoretically – owe Prince Thaddeus Weslington of Hoalkey a debt he’s come to collect.”
“In the most dramatic way possible, I’m certain.”
Rather than disagree, I wait for her to add additional commentary like a Tok influencer you’re surprised to know has a degree in whatever crap they’re spewing about.
“Mommie Dearest didn’t give her bratty baby boy enough suckles at her teat until he hit puberty.”
God…please…let her be speaking metaphorically.
“Plus, the man can barely wield his own dick without permission, so whatever microaggression shit he can execute, he will in the most Broadway approved fashion.” She folds her manicured hands on top of the cloth napkin in her lap. “You want a watercraft vehicle meaning the second request is permission to operate in my waters.”
“Correct.”
And they are her waters.
Ports.
Passages.
People.
The connections of the syndicate itself runs vampire squid deep and dark.
They truly have their own ecosystem.
Have had it – through family dynasties – for like forever.
And things are much better for you when you know your place.
Understand it.
Don’t step out of line from it.
Contemplative silence continues to slowly slink around the table prompting me to physically hold my breath.
No cap?
Just breathing around her wrong can get you merked.
Again.
It’s happened before.
Or…so I’ve heard.
And really…right now…I’m just looking to live long enough to at least finish the box of Cheeze-Its I started nervous eating on the way here.
“Entertain me,” Ravencroft casually commands, fingers reaching for the last dark cherry in her bowl.
I don’t ask.
I don’t think.
I don’t even blink.
“Suck his cock.”
This time there’s no stopping me from leaning forward in confusion and croaking, “Question mark?!”
“He,” she gestures at Garcia with her fruit free finger, “will suck your,” the digit is flung my way, “cock.”
Bobbing my unhinged jaw is all I seem to be capable of.
Which is an improvement from the nothing I could conjure up moments ago.
“The other toys didn’t have time to play with each other,” pouts the certifiably insane woman now nibbling on the piece of fruit, “so you will.”
No.
She…she can’t possibly be serious.
But she can’t like not be serious ‘cause that’s not her style.
But she can’t actually expect him to blow me…right?
This is some sort of test.
Like a real life “take this quiz” for us to pitch you the perfect yoga regime or hair care product or health food delivery service.
She doesn’t actually expect this shit to happen.
She’s just…fucking with us like an ad break during a phone game.
When no words escape my mouth – despite being open – Ravencroft exhaustingly sighs. “This is not hacking into the Pentagon when they’re on a level orange alert complicated, Fiorenzo.”
Yeah.
That shit would be easier.
“You want a vehicle. I want amusement. He wants an excuse to give into the filthy, little fantasies that involve him on his knees that he doesn’t think anyone else realizes he has.” Her eyes cut over to him. “Except they do. And regardless of the façade most of those in your elite work circle have mastered putting on, they crave the same cum dripping down the back of their throats that you do.”
My focus immediately shifts to Garcia.
Catches the flicker of guilt in his gaze.
Tenseness in his stilled jaw.
Outrage fighting for the right to settle itself somewhere – anywhere – in his expression.
Slothsandskunksslapmesilly…is she fucking right?
Did she just Live Stream truth bomb us?!
Does he actually want me like that?
Has he always wanted me like that?
More than just innuendos and flirty suggestions?
Is this new?
Is this old?
Is it that he just wants me so no one else can have me, honey badger shit?
“On your knees,” instructs Ravencroft before indulging in a larger bite. “On this side of the table.” Her head gestures to where she expects him to relocate. “I want a good view.”
Garcia lets his uncertain glare find mine, wordlessly asking if there’s another way.
Swearing there has to be.
And maybe there is for a boat or ship or kayak or whatever.
But there isn’t for where we need to search.
For where our hunt has to begin.
We need access.
Access that only the syndicate can grant.
“Tick, tock, gentlemen,” mocks the woman menacingly eating her breakfast. “You do not wish to discover what happens when I actually let myself become bored.”
Before I can say or suggest anything else, Garcia calmly pushes his chair back.
Rises to his loafer covered feet and takes a deep breath.
Finds my gaze again and holds it while he transitions himself to the last place, I ever expected him to be outside my own dreams.