Carl stood in front of the mirror, hung over the mantle of the unfamiliar home that he barged into twenty-three minutes ago. His pleased gaze lingered on the subtle smirk that danced happily on his lips.
“Please don’t kill me, Carl,” Donna Marie sobbed.
He swivelled around to the pathetic creature, bound and bloody on her living room carpet. “I go by the name of Ed Carrel nowadays. Not that it matters to you. Not after tonight, sweetheart.”
His gaze floated back to the perfect reflection. The cocky grin, dazzling eyes and silvery flecked hair that was professionally coiffured and set with spray.
A smattering of blood trickled down his temple. He clucked his tongue and muttered under his breath. “You can’t even bleed without fucking it up, Donna Marie.”
He wiped the red stain from his skin and tossed the tissue to the floor. He knew he was a lady killer, ironically in more ways than one.
That power alone gave him the ultimate feeling of satisfaction. So much so, he was getting off on the vibes of his power. His phone buzzed and he snapped out of his self-appraisal.
“Good evening. Do you have what I need on McGrath?” he chirped.
“Sure do. You ready to end this, Carl, once and for all?”
“I was born ready. I’ll teach those motherfuckers that they messed with the wrong guy. I’m a bit tied up at the minute. I’ll call you back soon.”
27
The staff at Villa Veronica busied themselves all afternoon in preparation for Jamie’s intimate soiree for his business associates.
Freddy worked his magic concocting delicate Italian canapés and entrees. He gave Lana the task of putting together elegant Puccia bread chips which she eagerly prepared with feminine finesse.
She synchronised her iPod to the wireless speaker, freeing her playlist, a mixture of current chart hits amplified around the high ceilings.
“What’s happening between you and Emilio?” asked Freddy, gently placing a beef Carpaccio canapé on an ornate oval platter.
Lana’s cheeks warmed. The very thought of Emilio made her stomach flip, in an unusual way. Good or bad? She wasn’t sure. “He’s a nice guy, kinda hot too.”
Freddy let out a loud puff of air. “Well I know he’shot,Lana, but I want to know the deets…size of full erection, six pack, kissing abilities, etcetera, etcetera.” He listed his requirements for an in-depth integration.
The right side of his mouth crept up into a wicked grin.
She giggled, twirling a dish cloth in the air and whipping him on the back side with a slap.
“I haven’t played with his dick yet, you horn dog!” Her voice reverberated through the room under the blanket of music.
Freddy rubbed his buttocks. “You said ‘yet’, does that mean you intend to unleash the beast at some stage?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“I’m not ready.” She ran her nails over her arm nervously recalling the ease at which she granted Marcus permission to touch her.
“Take it slow. You don’t have to do anything with him if it doesn’t feel right.” He patted her reassuringly.
She exhaled slowly. “I know, I need to get over what happened and move on from Marcus. Easier said than done now that he’s here, right under my nose.”
“I’m sure Emilio could help you move on.” Freddy winked. “I bet he’s packing some luggage in those skinny trousers.”
“Jeez.” She contorted her face in a look of disgust and pain.
“Like the Lough Ness monster cock, hidden in the depths ready to surface.”
Lana held a slight smirk, her eyes giving away her laughter. “You’re as bad as Amanda. What is it with you guys and monster sized cocks? I don’t know if I’ll do anything with him, I’ll play it cool and see how it pans out.”
His smile faded. “I guess he’s just not Marcus.”
She fumbled with the messy bun at her nape, winding a loose strand around the base. “He ordered me to stay away from Emilio.” Her pulse thrummed.
