Devil's Desire {A BWLM Novella}

13

13: Melissa

The busboy. Just an ordinary guy-cute, twenty-four, and single. He's the kind of guy who laughs easily, who spends his nights playing video games and is always kind to old ladies. He comes from a good family, one with a mom and dad who love him, who taught him the value of hard work. His father owns the restaurant where he works, and he's here to learn the ropes, to earn his keep.

Every Thursday, I watch him from my usual spot. He doesn't know me, doesn't know what I am, or what I've done. And that's why I keep coming back. He's everything I'm not-innocent, untainted by the darkness that consumes me. I've never even spoken to him, yet I've somehow convinced myself that I'm in love with him. But I know what Santi would say. He'd tell me a busboy is beneath me, that I deserve better. And then, just like that, he'd kill him, just like he killed my former fiancé.

I can still see it. Corey McNeal, on his knees, begging for his life. The gunshot. The spray of brain matter on the walls. Santi didn't hesitate. And neither did I. I got on my knees, kissed the ring, and begged for forgiveness. It's what I've always done. Even when I watched my mother Maria bleed out in that bathtub, her wrists slit open, I didn't flinch. I've lived under a cruel thumb for so long that I've forgotten how to be anything else.

I remember the first time I killed. It was for Santi, of course. The rush of power, the control-it was intoxicating. And from that moment on, I wanted more. Santi saw it in me and sent me on job after job. No one ever suspected me. I was too delicate, too fragile-looking. A harmless girl with long lashes and a smile that could lure anyone in. My victims never saw it coming.

Not that I always needed seduction to do my work. Sometimes tampering with the brakes of a car was enough to get the job done.

"Hey," the busboy's voice breaks through my thoughts. He's smiling at me, wiping down a booth across from where I sit. "I notice you come here a lot."

I give him a smile, one that's different from the others. It's soft, almost sweet. A smile that says, *You're safe with me.* "Yeah, I like to come here after work to unwind."

"So, uh... what's a beautiful woman like you doing here alone?" So cliché, but he's trying. It's not easy working up the courage to talk to a beautiful woman. His words hang in the air, and for a moment, they hit me harder than they should. Alone. He doesn't know how alone I truly am. Even Santi, with all his power, can't fix that.

"Brooding about my life, I guess." I surprise myself by telling the truth.

His cheeks flush as he wipes the table again, a nervous habit. I can tell he's working up the courage to ask me out, and I decide to help him along. I flip my hair over my shoulder and give him an indulgent smile.

He scratches the back of his head, ruffling his blond curls. "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

I laugh softly, trying to make it easy for him. "We're already out. How about we grab some drinks after your shift?"

His smile widens. "Sure." Maybe it could be something. A fling, a distraction. Something that lets me forget who I am for just a little while.

But then my phone buzzes in my purse. I know who it is before I even look. Santi.

Santi: Leave the boy alone.

Melissa:Keeping tabs on me?

Santi:Always. You're my responsibility.

I drop the phone back into my purse, my chance at normalcy slipping through my fingers like sand. I can't defy him. I never could. I walk out of the restaurant without looking back. It's always been this way. I've always chosen Santiago above all else. He's my brother. When we were kids, he tried to protect me from Silvano. But a boy can't protect a girl from a man like that. Not until the day he pulled the trigger and ended it all.

I owe him everything.

~~

The air in Santiago's study is thick with tension as I enter. Santi stands beside a man I've never seen before-a stranger, yet one who commands the room with his presence. He's tall, dressed in a dark tailored suit that fits him like a glove. His hair is straight, dark, and long enough to brush his ears. His square jaw is shadowed with stubble, tinged with a hint of gray. His hazel eyes lock onto me with a peculiar interest, one I've seen a thousand times before. I know what that look means. I've been dealing with men like him since I was fifteen.

Santiago smiles at me as I approach, that approving smile he gives when I do as I'm told. "Melissa, this is the Marquess, Edgar Thayne. He's a friend of our family and an ally in our ascent."

*His ascent,* I think bitterly. Not mine. Despite Silvano claiming me as his daughter, I'm not truly a De La Cruz.

Edgar crosses the room with a smooth, confident stride that makes my pulse quicken. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, kissing my hand. His touch is possessive, his gaze lingering.

I pull my hand away, turning to Santi. "What's going on?"

The Marquess steps aside, sipping his scotch, as Santi delivers the news. "I've been neglecting your needs, Melissa. As a woman, you should be married by now, with children of your own. For that, I am sorry. Edgar will be your husband. The wedding is this winter."

I stare at him, trying to read his face. Sometimes, Santi looks so much like Silvano that I want to kill him, just to be free of that shadow. But then there are moments-rare, fleeting-when I see our mother Maria in him. Her care, her sense of responsibility. It's a wonder Santi wasn't born first. Roman, our older brother, shirked his duties the moment he could, leaving Santiago to clean up the mess.

Edgar steps forward, placing his glass on the table. He pulls a red velvet box from his pocket and opens it, revealing a crescent moon, coffin-cut black diamond ring. It's beautiful, and oddly fitting. His touch is firm as he slips the ring onto my finger, claiming me in that instant. I look up, and our eyes meet-his hazel, with flecks of green and amber, locking onto mine. For the first time in years, a man makes me nervous.

The room fades away, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound as Edgar says something I barely hear. All I can focus on is the weight of the ring on my finger, the weight of the choice I never had. I'm his now, bound by the rules of this twisted life. Whether he's cruel or kind doesn't matter. I will obey him, just as I've always obeyed.

Images flash before my eyes-my mother, her wrists slashed in that bathtub, the blood swirling down the drain. Edgar's face blurs and shifts, becoming Silvano's, and I hear his voice, his cruel laugh. You stupid little bitch. I only tolerate you because of your mother. The blows of his cane, over and over...

I snap back to reality, my voice steady as I lie. "Thank you. The ring is lovely. I'll be an obedient and loving wife to you."

If I could survive Silvano De La Cruz, I can survive anything this man throws my way.