The Babysitter

23

𝗥𝗢𝗬𝗖𝗘

I couldn't sleep tonight either. It was fucking exhausting, but I couldn't do anything about it. It was just like any other night, whether I liked it or not. Some nights I call lucky, those are the ones where I manage to get some sleep.

Nightmares, fucking dreams every night, it's all too much for me. It's consuming, devastating. I fucking hate those nights. I hate that scene, the one that keeps haunting me until it's five in the morning. Until then, I could get some sleep, at least three hours.

I still see that scene, the scenario keeps replaying in my head every night, every second when I lay my head on the pillow. Voices screaming at me, telling me it's all my fault. Voices telling me I should've killed him that day instead of doing nothing like a coward. I still hate myself for it. I hate myself, and I hate my dad. I can't blame Mom for this, but I sure can blame Dad.

It was consuming to the point where I wanted to kill myself. I had everything I wanted. But her death changed everything.

I had work to do in my office today and plans for the night. My cousin Rowan was coming today from Spain. We're close, like Enzo and Miguel. He's part of the mafia, involved in drugs and such.

I heard Tate talking with Angela while she played for her. The thing about Tate is her innocence, and that's what turns me on. This sexual feeling only makes it worse. Every time she's in the picture, there are only images of her naked while I do unholy things to her. It excites me more that she's innocent, sweet.

She's mine. No one can touch her, no one can lay a hand on her, or I'll fucking kill them. She's in my house, she eats my food, and she sleeps here. That means she's all mine.

I want to take that innocence from her, I want to be the one teaching her all those things. All she needs to do is ask me.

And I got the best idea to teach Tate how these things work. Fuck, my dick is hard inside my pants, about to burst. I've never been this turned on. She makes me feel like this.

I open my phone and click on a contact. I don't want to go find her, so I just call her here. It's easier that way. It rings until she answers. "Valerie. I want something from you..."

I pour myself a drink of whiskey, taking a sip as the liquor burns down my throat, settling into my chair. It's time to get down to business before Melissa arrives.

I fire up my laptop, my fingers dancing on the keyboard, diving into the maze of accounts and transactions. Money is my game, and I play it well, shuffling funds between companies and offshore accounts.

I needed help, of course, so I call John. It doesn't take fifteen minutes before he's here, barging in with a stack of reports. "Hola amigo," I smile at him.

"Hola, you seem excited," I say in Spanish.

"Do you want a drink?" I offer him, and he nods. Sure, John isn't the type to drink all the time, only on special occasions.

We share a drink as we sift through the intel, plotting our next move in the turf wars. As John talks and explains, I listen, already plotting my next move. In this world, information is power, and I have it in spades.

I lean back, savoring the taste of the whiskey, lost in thought. "That's all for today. You need to start your next move in two days."

"Deal." I hand him money, and he leaves the office just like that. Melissa enters behind him.

She was wearing a dress that showed her ass. Without a doubt, that was who she was. A whore. With all respect, I mean she loved it. Gettings men attention and fucking everyone she wanted. I didn't care at all, though.