Free Web NovelChapter 49: Getting rid of a pest
"Mark, please," Lyvana started, her voice strained. "We’re in the middle of—"
"I don’t care what you’re in the middle of," Mark snapped, his eyes finally darting toward Celeste with a look of dismissive annoyance before snapping back to Lyvana.
"I will be right back, Celeste," Lyvana said, her face burning as she gripped Mark’s arm and hauled him toward the hallway.
"Middle-management energy and a temperament to match," Celeste murmured loud enough for them both to hear.
Outside Lyvana glared at him.
"What was that? Why are you embarrassing me? Do you have any idea who that woman is?"
"You think I give a fuck who that is? Liv, I’ve been running in circles with you for a while now, and frankly am getting sick of it.
He stepped closer to her.
"I’m leaving," he said, his jaw tight. "But I expect you at my place tonight. We are going to sit down and talk about this like adults. And let me be very clear: if you don’t show up, I’m calling your grandmother. I’ll tell her exactly why the wedding is off and whose fault it is."
He didn’t wait for her to respond. He simply turned and left.
....
Mark exhaled sharply through his nose. He was at Madame Bovary’s whore house, one of his favorite places to relax... And indeed he was relaxing.
But then why was he thinking about Lyvana now? That bitch continued to disrespect him at every turn, acting as if, for some twisted reason, she didn’t love him anymore.
In fact, he hated her. He hated the way she looked at him now — as though she saw through his lies instead of reflecting the adoration he was used to.
But no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many times he fucked Clarisse or any of these useless whores, no one could take her place. It wasn’t about love; it was about ego, the way she used to belong to him completely.
Tricia, his favorite whore was currently trembling under him, her moans filling the room as he drove deeper into her.
"Mark..." Tricia gasped, her voice breaking with pleasure as she arched her back, her fingers clawing at the silk sheets.
The other girl, whose name he had forgotten, watched them from the edge of the bed. She had just emerged from the bathroom. Her hand slipped down between her thighs mindlessly rubbing the soft bud.
Mark looked down at Tricia, but for a split second, he didn’t see her face. He saw Lyvana. The image flickered in his mind like a taunt. He let out a low, frustrated growl, increasing his pace until Tricia was sobbing his name, but the release he sought felt hollow.
He pulled away abruptly, leaving Tricia breathless and shaking. He stood up, ignoring the two women in his bed, and reached for the scotch sitting on the nightstand.
"Baby, is something wrong?" Tricia whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.
"Shut up," he snapped, downing the amber liquid in one go.
He needed to get her under control. He needed Lyvana back under his thumb before this new person, whoever the hell he is, turned her against him for good.
Mark slammed the empty glass onto the nightstand.
"Get out," he muttered, not looking at either of them. "Both of you. Now."
Tricia scrambled to gather her discarded silk robe, her eyes stinging with hurt. She was used to his moods, but this, this cold rage was new. They hurried out of the suite, clicking the door shut behind them.
Mark walked back and forth across the thick, soft carpet. He naked rreflection catching across the floor-to-ceiling mirrors of Madame Bovary’s private suite.
"You’re going to come crawling back, Liv," he hissed to the empty room. "I’ll make sure you have nowhere else to go."
He reached for the scotch bottle again. He had four hours until she was supposed to arrive. Four hours to decide exactly how he was going to break her spirit if she doesn’t show up.
....
Back at the Grant estate, Catalina was sitting in the garden when a young man approached.
"Who let you in here?" she asked, already standing to leave.
"Is that any way to greet your favorite cousin?"
"I don’t want to see you," Catalina snapped, walking away toward the house.
"Don’t be like that," he called after her. "I came all this way. The least you could do is offer me a drink."
Catalina didn’t slow her pace. "This isn’t my house. How could I possibly offer you a drink?"
"Well, you are the soon-to-be daughter-in-law, aren’t you?"
She finally stopped, but she didn’t turn around. "Distance doesn’t earn you a welcome, Mateo. Not after what you did in Madrid."
The man chuckled. "Madrid was a misunderstanding, Cat. Business is rarely as clean as we’d like it to be."
Catalina gave a dry laugh. "You’re impossible, Mateo. Because of you I lost a deal of a lifetime."
Mateo sighed, his smile fading. "I did what I had to do. We’re family, Cat. Can’t we put the past behind us?" freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Catalina turned, her eyes flashing. "Family?"
Mateo raised his hands, palms up. "You are right and am sorry. I’m offering you my services in return for your forgiveness. What do you say. Old times sake?"
Catalina held Mateo’s gaze for a long moment, then finally exhaled slowly.
"Fine," she said.
Mateo blinked once, clearly not expecting the answer to come so quickly.
"You agree?" he asked.
Catalina stepped past him toward the house.
"Don’t misunderstand," she said coolly. "I’m not forgiving you. But truly useful men are a rare commodity, and right now, I have a need for someone who doesn’t mind getting blood on his hands."
Mateo chuckled under his breath. "That almost sounded like a compliment, Cat."
"It wasn’t."
"Fair enough," he murmured. "Give me a target."
"I need you to crush a pest. One that’s starting to bug me."
"Who?"
"Her name is Lyvana Montclair."
