Stroke of Midnight Read online

  “Don’t insult me, Winston,” Leo growls. “You’re fucking pushing, and when I’m pushed into a corner, I come out swinging.”

  “The Morelli anger has always been your family’s Achilles’ heel,” I state, shaking my head in disproval. “It clouds your judgment and makes you retaliate without considering future moves.” I finish typing on the document and hit send to the printer. Perry nods at me and strides out of the conference room to grab it. “Remember this conversation later.”

  “Fuck you, Constantine. You think you’re God in this tower overlooking the city below. Talk about clouds . . .” He snorts in disgust. “Your head is so high in them, you can’t see the devils doing all the dirty work, stealing all the bricks from your foundation. I look forward to the day you fall.”

  I glance at my watch just to make this fucker think I have more important shit to do before I finally meet his infuriated glare. “Here’s the thing, little Leo.” I give him my best boardroom smile—the same one I reserve for the men I shred with one signature on a dotted line. “When you’re God, you see . . . everything.”

  “Watch your back,” he growls.

  A tremor of glee ripples through me that he didn’t throw out Ash’s name as a threat. The agreement has already successfully taped his mouth shut. He really does want that building. Too bad for him he won’t have it long.

  “I always do,” I say with ease.

  The Morellis are cockroaches in my city. They may be plentiful, but they all squash the same beneath my Italian leather dress shoe.

  “Here you go,” Perry says, handing me the agreement when he reenters the conference room.

  I quickly peruse it before sliding it across the table to Leo. “This is an agreement between us, but the actual sale of the building will be handled through my attorney in the morning.”

  Leo takes his time reading through every word as though that will piss me off. I’m not some idiot who’d try and sneak in hidden verbiage to pull one over on my opponent. No, I’d rather do it the good old-fashioned way, through hard work and perseverance. I’ll get my building back plus interest. And when I buy up that entire goddamn city block, Lucian will extract that payment out of Leo’s ass, as he should, though they’ll be poorer thanks to Leo. I would die before I let Perry or Keaton go up against Lucian Morelli alone.

  “Pen,” Leo grunts to Trenton.

  Trenton pulls one from his breast pocket and hands it over. Leo scribbles his name across the back page before sending it my way. Using my own pen that probably costs more than his entire outfit, I sign with my usual distinguished Constantine flourishes.

  “Nice doing business with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more money to make.” I tip my head at him. “Tell Lucian I said hello.”

  Leo grunts in response, storming from the room as though he can’t get away from me fast enough. When I hear the ding of the elevator and then their murmured voices disappearing, I let out a harsh breath of relief.

  “Sounded too easy,” Perry notes, frowning at me. “But he just fucked himself, didn’t he?”

  “You’re learning, kid,” I say with a proud grin. “Starting tomorrow, we’re going to research every building and tenant surrounding them. We’ll topple their empire on that block from the inside out. You’ll see.”

  “I have no doubt,” he says with a boyish chuckle.

  “Not to mention, he just bought the Baldridge Plaza building. The same building I pried from Duncan Baldridge’s steely grip two years ago. Duncan’s been waiting for the opportunity to get it back. It’s been in his family since 1910. I’m sure it must feel demeaning officing in a building you used to own that’s now owned by a Constantine.” I pause and smirk at Perry. “Imagine how annoyed he’ll be when he discovers a Morelli purchased it.”

  “I swear, you enjoy fucking with people more than making actual money.”

  At this, I laugh, a genuine one. “It’s definitely a favorite hobby of mine.”

  “Sadistic fucker,” he throws back, shaking his head and fighting a grin.

  I’ll make a man out of this boy yet.

  “I’m going to offer Duncan an opportunity. I’m going to let him buy his building back.”

  Perry’s brows fly high. “This sounds complicated.”

  “It’s rather easy, little brother. I make Duncan do my dirty work, delivering on my promise once he succeeds.”

  “And then . . .”

  “You’re learning quickly.” My grin is wolfish. “And then I take my fucking building back.”

  “That’s a lot of trouble when you could have said no in the first place.”

  “It’ll keep Leo distracted, Duncan eager and willing to do my bidding, and Ash safe.”

  Perry’s brows furrow. “You really like this chick.”

  I ponder his words for a moment before exhaling heavily. “Which is why I must go to great lengths to protect her.” Our eyes meet as I deliver my next words. “I’ve never liked anyone the way I like her. This is a weakness they see and will try to exploit at every turn.”

  “I’ve got your back, man.”

  “Of course you do. You’re a Constantine.” I pin him with a hard stare. “None of this leaves this room. The only trust a Constantine has is with someone who shares the same blood. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Never, Winny.”

  It pleases me my brother is already learning the Constantine way—my way. He’ll make our family proud, especially me. I never saw myself bringing a child into this world, so it gives me relief knowing Perry might be moldable to one day take my place as a son would. Dad would want it this way.

  “You did well today, Perry.”

  His blue eyes flash with surprise. “I did?”

  “Keep it up, and you’ll take Nate’s office.”

  Determination that reminds me of our father morphs his young features into a fierce expression. “I won’t let you down. I can do this.”

  “I know. Constantines aren’t weak. We’re the blood that runs through the veins of this city. You may be young, but you’re still one of us.”

  16

  Ash

  Manda will be here soon, and I’ve yet to make contact with Winston, which leaves me worried. I shouldn’t be. I know he can handle himself, but I can’t help it. He’s been a tornado in my life, but I can’t complain too much. He’s given me a means to support myself, a safe haven for my bird, and an escape from my wicked stepbrothers. In some ways, he’s my hero. A dark hero with a villainous smile and a black cape, hellbent on destroying everyone beneath his feet. For some insane reason, he’s intrigued with me, which goes a long way in Winston Constantine’s world.

  Rather than dissecting what all this means, I focus on dressing. Manda said dinner was casual, but we both know my version of casual and hers are two totally different things. I select a white Valentino V-print silk shift dress. The long, billowy sleeves are fun, and the short length is sexy but still screams money, which I know Manda will appreciate. I pair it with white Jimmy Choo leather block-heel sandals that are just high enough to give my calves a shapelier look but not so high I break my neck. I could kiss Carly right now for the reasonable options he selected. If it had been up to Winston, there’s no telling what I would be wearing right now.

  As if the devil has been summoned, my phone buzzes with a text.

  Winston: I’ll be home soon.

  His words cause a flutter in my stomach.

  Me: We may miss each other. I’m to have dinner with my stepmother. She’s picking me up soon.

  Winston: How much will it cost to get you to stay?

  Me: I really should go . . .

  Winston: Maybe I should come up with something for you to do while at your dinner.

  A tiny thrill shoots through me.

  Me: Maybe you should.

  Winston: I have an idea. It’s going to be embarrassing, and you’ll hate every second of it.

  Me: Sounds expensive.

  Winston: I have expensive tastes
.

  A laugh tumbles out of me.

  Me: Name your stakes, Win, and I’ll give you a price.

  Winston: So sure you’ll do it?

  Me: I’m learning I can handle whatever you throw my way.

  Winston: Oh, Cinderelliott, your eagerness to challenge me gets my dick really hard.

  My skin heats, and I fumble with what I want to reply with. He saves me from having to respond because he launches into what he wants.

  Winston: Since you’re mine and I pay for you, I want every detail as it happens. What you’re wearing. Where you’re going. The name of the driver. The restaurant. What your server looks like. The food you’re eating. The wine. I want to approve or disapprove of every aspect of your evening.

  Sounds super controlling but hot.

  Me: Manda won’t like it if I’m on my phone . . .

  Winston: Blame me. That I need to know these things. That it’s important to me. She’ll understand. How much?

  Me: Five thousand.

  It’s a huge amount but I’m learning I underbid myself with this man all the time.

  Winston: If you call me during a bathroom break and do as I say, I’ll double it.

  Holy shit.

  Ten grand to have dinner with my stepmother and give Winston every single detail.

  Me: Deal.

  Winston: Excellent. Now send me a picture of your outfit.

  I walk over to the long mirror and playfully poke out my tongue for the picture. I really like this outfit so if he makes me change, I’ll be disappointed.

  Winston: I like your hair down like that. The dress is a little short. Are you trying to turn on every guy in NYC?

  Me: No.

  Winston: They’ll all be half-hard when they see those golden legs on full display. What color are your panties?

  Me: A nude thong.

  Winston: I want those gone. Leave them on the guest bed so when I come home, I can wrap them around my dick and jerk off.

  Heat floods through me, pooling in my belly.

  Me: Okay.

  Winston: It makes you wet thinking about my dick. Show me how wet.

  Me: I’m not sending you a picture of my pussy!

  Winston: Your wet finger will do.

  This guy is so filthy. With a groan, I slide my thong off, embarrassed that there’s a damp spot of arousal on them. I toss them on the bed and then awkwardly reach beneath my short dress to touch myself. Winston is right. It does turn me on thinking about my panties around his dick. A groan rasps out of me as I slide my finger into my slick warmth. After getting it nice and wet, I pull it out and take a picture for him.

  My phone rings immediately.

  “Hello?”

  “Suck on that juicy finger,” Winston commands, his voice a deep growl.

  “Won’t that be kind of gross?”

  “I’m a gross man. Lick it off and be noisy about it.”

  My cheeks blaze with crimson, but I suck my arousal off my finger, careful to add in sound effects for his benefit.

  “For every person you accidentally flash, I want you to text me about it. I’ll reward you each time. I hope you’re ready to make some serious money.”

  The thought of accidentally flashing anyone is mortifying, but this game, money or not, intrigues me.

  “You bring out the worst in me,” I complain, though I do it through a grin.

  “I have that effect on people.” He chuckles, the warm, dark sound reverberating to my core. “Don’t forget to tell me everything. I want all the details. Make the time for me, Ash.”

  My phone buzzes, and it’s Manda stating she’s here.

  “Crap. She’s here. I have to leave.” I chew on my lip for a second. “What will you be doing?”

  “My hand until you decide to let me fuck your tight, young body.”

  “You’re such a little weirdo,” I hiss as I snatch up my purse. “Don’t forget to say hello to Shrimp. He likes you.”

  “I assure you, there is nothing little about me. And I’m not saying hello to a bird.”

  “Please.”

  “That’ll cost you.”

  “Name your price, Constantine.”

  “When you call from the bathroom later, you have to FaceTime me and let me see you.”

  “Deal.”

  “Good girl,” he croons. “Now get going.”

  “Yes, sir,” I tease before hanging up.

  I rush out of the condo and then step onto the elevator. When I reach the bottom, I nearly crash into a guy as I exit. He eye-fucks me in a way that makes me shiver.

  “I belong to Constantine,” I state, unable to help the words that rush out of my mouth.

  The guy’s eyes widen, and he holds up a hand. “No offense, ma’am. You just look beautiful. No disrespect to you or Mr. Constantine.”

  I give him a bitchy smile and then stride away from the elevator with my chin lifted. My silky dress sways with each long step I take, riding up my thighs. There’s a thrill that trembles through me knowing I’m walking around without panties, and a gust of wind or bending over might just reveal that fact to everyone. When I reach the black limo, I frown in confusion.

  The driver steps out upon seeing me and holds the door open for me. I go to sit down inside the limo, but my purse slips from my grip to the pavement. He bends to grab it up. Without second-guessing myself, I part my thighs giving the man an eyeful.

  His choked sound and the hasty way he hands me my purse tell me he saw everything. My face burns as he closes the door. Manda gives me a polite smile but is on the phone talking about a nose job. I pull out my phone and text Winston.

  Me: The driver saw everything.

  My phone pings with a five-hundred-dollar payment.

  Me: You’re ridiculous.

  I send him an eyeroll emoji.

  Winston: You’re welcome.

  “You look happy,” Manda says, dragging me from my phone. “Mr. Constantine put that smile on your face?”

  “He can be, uh, charming sometimes.” Not exactly the word, but it’ll do.

  “This ensemble is new. It’s very stylish, darling. Shows off your pretty legs. You’ll have that man falling in love in no time.” Then, to the driver, she says, “We have reservations at Blue Oak.”

  Me: Blue Oak. Headed there now. Also, Manda thinks my legs will make you fall in love.

  “Is that him?” Manda asks, an amused smile on her face.

  “He likes it when I check in with him and let him know where I’m going.” My neck heats. “To, uh, keep me safe.”

  “A gentleman.” She winks at me.

  Winston: Your legs make me feel a lot of things, but love isn’t one of them.

  Me: Jerk.

  Winston: Aww, the little girl wants the evil man to love her.

  I shoot him several middle finger emojis.

  We arrive at the restaurant, and the driver opens the door for me. He’s careful to keep his eyes averted this time. Once out of the limo, Manda and I head inside. The restaurant is one she enjoys coming to. I’ve been here a couple times with her and Dad.

  The hostess takes us over to a table in the corner. While Manda decides on her drink, I text Winston a picture of the menu. It’s a mixture of annoying and sexy that he tells me what I’ll be drinking. He also chooses my entrée as well. Manda is no doubt intrigued but doesn’t say anything, instead launching into stories about her work.

  When the server comes back to refill my wine, I drop my napkin. He squats to pick it up just as I part my thighs. Rather than be embarrassed, the server stares for a long beat, licks his lips, and then gives me a knowing smile as he places the napkin back on my lap, covering my bare thighs.

  I text Winston immediately, ignoring Manda’s confused stare.

  Me: The server got an eyeful. He wasn’t embarrassed. I think he thinks I like him now.

  He doesn’t reply but a few minutes later a different server appears stating he’s replacing the other one.

  Me: You tell me to d
o something and then punish the guy when he looks?

  Winston: This is my game. I make the rules.

  I ignore him as I turn my attention to Manda when her words make my blood run cold.

  “…which is why I also invited them. So we could make peace about what happened.”

  Realization dawns on me. She invited her terrible sons. I’m frozen in place until I see them enter the restaurant.

  Me: How about that phone call now???

  Winston doesn’t reply. Rather than letting the assholes swarm me, I stand up and excuse myself. I hurry to the restroom, eager to escape those bastards. Once in the safety of the women’s restroom, I let out a heavy sigh of relief. I make my way into a stall and sit on the closed toilet lid as I wait for Winston to call me.

  By running off, I let them win.

  They’ve succeeded in intimidating me.

  My skin crawls as I remember the way Scout brutalized me. His threats. I’m not looking to repeat any of that. Manda is delusional if she thinks they’re going to behave.

  Me: I’m in the stall waiting. What are we doing? Phone sex? Want to just come get me? I’ll fuck you for real. I don’t want to go back home.

  No response.

  Me: Look . . . a freebie for you.

  I spread my thighs and angle the camera between my thighs.

  Nothing.

  Me: Please come get me, Win.

  The desperation in my texts is embarrassing, but I hate the idea of going back out there and having all three of their eyes on me.

  I try calling Winston to no avail. Tears threaten as panic consumes me.

  Breathe, Ash.

  You can do this.

  With my phone tight in my grip, I make my way out of the stall. I linger by the sink, working up the nerve to leave this bathroom, tell Manda something came up, and take an Uber anywhere but here.

  The door opens and footsteps file in. All the muscles in my body tighten as three vicious man-boys in dress clothes swarm me. Sparrow and Sully take their place on either side of me and Scout crowds me from behind.

  I’m trapped.