Den of Vipers

I watch Roxy out of the corner of my eye, or Roxxane, as her birth certificate read. Not that she goes by it. Overnight, I learned a lot about our new house guest.

It seems I was right, her father abused her. Something she cemented when she told us about her mother a moment ago. I knew he was a bastard, but I didn’t know how much. It’s a surprise she’s even alive right now, the ER records made my blood boil. Even as a kid, she suffered. It all seemed very familiar and too close to home as I read back on the broken bones and internal injuries. Yet not one person tried to stop him nor cared enough to intervene.

Another child lost in the system.

Forgotten, unloved, left in the dark to suffer alone.

Yet here she is, fighting even now. I expect her to be dainty and afraid, like so many survivors. I expect her to flinch and wither away, but if anything, she seems to have used that to harden herself to the world. Her scars cover her body, only highlighted by her tattoos, a way to draw attention to her. Her story is written across her skin.

I read the judge ordered emancipation, but I’m still having it fully unsealed to see where she went after that. To destroy someone fully, you need to know everything about them, and I don’t yet, though she clearly thinks I do. It keeps her on edge, guessing. The way I like it.

Her fists are clenched on the table, her lips taut and eyes flashing in anger. She sits bolt upright in her chair, not touching the food on her plate, even though I can hear her stomach rumbling. I’m betting she’s used to going hungry. Kenzo is scarfing food next to her, a habit he’s never broken. One ingrained into him from not knowing when he would next eat.

It hurts me for a moment to see that, but I push those memories away, resealing that behind a wall of ice as I sip my tea. I watch Roxxane, my eyes roving over her appreciatively. Even behind all that makeup and anger, she’s beautiful. In fact, it only highlights her beauty. The colour of her hair is the shade of ice…the colour of my soul. Her eyes are dark rimmed and draw your gaze, and her lips are plump and red, even without lipstick and the puffiness to it.

She truly is gorgeous, a natural beauty that’s clear to see. I’ve dated models, princesses, and some of the most beautiful women in the world, but Roxxane? She blows them away. She has an unadulterated loveliness and gracefulness they all strive for. Her curves are mouth-watering, not surgically enhanced like so many. Crossing my legs, I adjust my hard-on, trying to ignore it. I will never act on it.

She might be beautiful, and her fight, her willingness to not back down is a massive turn-on, but she’s too wild. Too unpredictable to bed. I like my women meek, I like them there and gone when I order it. Never interrupting my life, just a primal urge that I have to let out.

Roxxane wouldn’t be that, she would fight me the whole way. She would be memorable. I don’t have time for distractions, and she’s a massive one. I have a city to run and brothers to protect, and I won’t let a woman destroy us again.

Not even one wrapped up in such a beautiful, tragic package like Roxxane.

She catches me looking and narrows her eyes, unafraid of me, even though I hold her life in my hands. It almost makes me smile—almost.

I can see why Diesel is so entranced by her and why Kenzo wants her. My phone vibrates, bringing me from my thoughts, and I check it to see it’s my alarm. I’m almost late.

Unheard of.

Standing, I glance at the others, who nod, knowing the drill. “Let’s go.”

I look to her then. “Behave,” I order, and I see anger flare in her eyes again, that same need to push her washing through me. She sure is fun to annoy.

I turn away, leaving Roxxane with Kenzo. I have an empire to run, and it’s time to remind a few unruly businesses who think they can fight back of that fact. Slicking back my hair, I straighten my suit and stride from the apartment, my brothers on my heels.

Roxxane is nothing more than a disruption, one I will be rid of soon.

Honestly, I don’t know what we are going to do with her. We took her as a lesson, a warning. The unknown aspect of it all is annoying me, leaving me unable to relax enough to sleep. A person is unpredictable, I have come to know that, but if you know them, how to control them, just where to push, just where to kick or hit—with both fists and information—you can get them to do what you want.

Roxxane will not be like that, I can tell. She doesn’t react like a normal person, she’s wild. Uncontrolled. A nightmare for me. Not that I will let her see that. No, she will come to heel, or we’ll kill her.

Either works. For now, I’ll ignore her the best I can. I have far more important matters to deal with than one trashy little girl from the southside with anger in her eyes and pain in her heart.