Page 5 of Wicked Throne

Attractive white man,my brain countered.

A chill went down my spine at the thought of him too. The way his eyes had watched as I took pleasure from the mayor’s mouth. He hadn’t been totally disgusted but he hadn’t appreciated the fine art of how pussy could get you anything you wanted.

Chapter 3

Thierry

I imagined that once I had her down on her knees begging to be taken…

God, the immense pleasure that I was going to take in making her submit.

My fingers traced my bride-to-be’s lips on the screen of my cell phone before I tucked it away and into the back pocket of the slacks I’d slipped on. Ivy Knowles had a mouth made for fucking sin. She had a mouth made for fucking...and I knew she knew exactly how to use it. All of the surveillance I’d had on her back to a week after first speaking with her father…the way she dressed in the club she owned….leather outfits. She would get up on that stage of hers commanding the spotlight, commanding attention.

I’d yet to see her give her welcoming speech at The Diamond, one of Atlanta’s most elite gentlemen’s club. The damn place was so discreet you had to buy a membership at the door and sign a non-disclosure agreement on the spot.

A smirk slithered over my lips. Ivy had a head on her shoulders for business that was for damn sure.

Stretching, I could hear the bones in my neck crackling in my eardrums. I was wound up and my muscles felt corded. Feeling like a caged lion, began to rub at my neck and surveyed the view before me. Atlanta, Georgia was beautiful at night. Or at least what I could see while standing on the balcony. A Cuban cigar sat off to the side on a small table. Picking it up, I placed it in my mouth and lit it up.

The sparkle of lights gleamed from the surrounding buildings making it seems as though stars had touched the earth. I leaned forward and braced my hands on the railing, as a cold wind swept by. I should have been cold but this was nothing compared to a New York winter.

Behind me, I could hear my companion turning over in her sleep. She’d journeyed with me down from New York. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as she continued to sleep. Beside me, I had a bottle of whiskey ready for the drinking.

Puffing on the cigar, the sweet smoke surrounding me, I reached for a glass and filled it with amber-colored liquid. I gave an invisible toast to what was left of my future and downed the liquid. It went down smooth but I still gritted my teeth.

For months I had thought of nothing but how I would break the news to this woman. I had to confess…I had wondered if she would break down in tears like some dramatic belle. Never had I expected to find her with a man between her legs, let alone the mayor of Atlanta.

Ivy Knowles had been described as many things. The research had shown that she was a Spellman College alum who had focused on Economics. During the day, she ran a large high-end jewelry store, The Magnolia Bloom, that catered to the influential taste of Atlanta’s socialites. The nickname she procured, “The Diamond of Atlanta,” had come from the fact that she was one of the most eligible bachelorettes in Georgia. She took the name to heart so much so, that that was usually all she answered to.

My research had also shown that she did charitable organizations, to keep up the image that she was every bit the southern belle she pretended to be.

Few people knew the real truth though.

Oh yes, my bride-to-be had a hidden side to her.

There was a darkness there, she kept it hidden so fucking well even her daddy didn’t seem to know about it. And if he did, he hadn't bothered to mention it.

But I knew.

I filled my glass again and let my mind wander back to six months ago. I’d just come in from a night of partying when my father had called me into his study.

Drunkenly, I’d stumbled in and took a seat. I’d been ready to vomit my brains up but somehow managed to sober up. At seven-thirty in the morning, my father Vito Scarpetta, head of the Scarpetta crime syndicate was awake. Wide-eyed and bushy-tailed he’d stood in a neat suit and had already been cleaned shaven.

“You smell of whores and liquor boy,” he said.

He began to pace in front of the roaring fireplace, even though it was the peak of summer. The flames, orange and raging seemed to reach out and lick the air. My father was getting older and older people seemed to never be content with the right temperature. I, on the other hand, had been ready to pass out. The heat seemed to be unbearable. I needed water and air conditioning in my life.

“I didn’t know I was going to be up for a smell test,” I groaned.

“Silence boy,” my father stopped pacing and trained his eyes on me. “Today, our lives change. Your life is going to change.”

I groaned.

Every few months or so, my father got on a fucking kick about changing my life. As I saw it, there was nothing wrong with my life. I had access to unlimited funds and resources and women. What in the hell else could I need in my life. One day, when Vito Scarpetta bit the dust, I would be the Don. I would be in charge of shit around here.

“In exactly five minutes,” Vito spoke again, the cadence in his voice promising to deliver on some surprise filtered into my waiting ears. “We will have a means of being once again on top. When the five families cut us out…my pride was wounded. But we made back every dime that we lost. Now, look at them. There's barely any mafia left…true mafia.”

“Dad…I really just want to get to bed,” I’d told him.