Call You Mine (Servite Academy)

Chapter Sixteen

WYNTER

I need to get laid.

Is it possible for someone to die from lack of orgasms? Because it definitely feels like I’m dying. I’m sure it’s been mentioned on an episode of 1000 Ways To Die or something. Leave it to me to go down from something so pathetic.

For an entire week, I’ve tried incredibly hard to get Damon to break the one rule he’s so adamant to keep from breaking—no sex—but I never knew it would be this hard.

I never expected his rule to mean no kissing, no touching, hell, he barely even looks at me although I’ve taken to wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie around the house. Not since that night in his room when he made me come on his fingers and tongue. But even that felt more like pity than want.

Now it’s like I’ve caught some kind of disease and he flees the room any chance he gets. The man avoids me like I’m the fucking plague.

Just yesterday I was reading a book in the sunroom, sprawled out along the chaise lounge by the window in nothing but a blue babydoll dress. I know he saw me although he didn’t dare walk into the room. I heard his footsteps halt as they reached the doorway, but as fast as they came they went. Not before I heard his sharp intake of breath and husky growl.

It’s nearly the start of summer, the sun glimmering in the sky while the fresh air warms to a high of eighty degrees. It’s a rarity given the endless nights of rain we’ve been having lately so I’ve decided there’s no better weather for a swim. What’s the point of having this incredible pool at my disposal if I won’t enjoy it?

I need something to get my mind off of this mess I’m in—and that something is Damon.

Dressed in a white, triangle bikini top and matching thong bottoms, I threw on a pair of designer flip flops that matched my black Prada sunglasses and headed out to the expansive heated infinity pool. Feeling like myself for the first time is a remarkable thing.

After lathering myself in sunscreen, I went for a quick dip in the water, and headed over to lie out on a lounger, taking in the bright rays of the sun beaming down on me and warming my skin. God, I missed California. The fresh air, the gleaming sun, the smell of the ocean a mere miles away. Don’t get me wrong, New York is exhilarating. The scenery, the loud bustle and hustle of the city, used to be one of my favorite places in the world, but now, all it does is remind me of the horrors I lived in its city center—the absolute nightmare I dealt with when I lived there the past three years. Never again will I be able to look at the city that never sleeps the same way again.

Yet the sun has never shined this bright in the sky. Not the way it gleams and radiates an abundance of heat year-round here in California. Homesick, that’s the feeling coursing through me, so serene yet so foreign. Maybe because I’ve never had a home, never knew what it felt like to miss the mundane way of life. Home has always just been a place I’ve been a guest in. I’ve never cemented myself to a place because there’s never been somewhere that’s felt right. Until now.

It’s a little unorthodox how I’ve gone about it, but I wouldn’t be fooling myself into believing I have that now, here with Damon, but it’s the closest I’ve ever been to it.

Did I mention I have a job? Like a proper job, not some modeling gig that’ll get me a year's worth of salary in a matter of hours. No, this is legit employment as a bartender. Have I ever been a bartender before? No, but I can make an incredible dry, dirty martini—three and two-thirds shots of vodka not gin, a quarter ounce of vermouth, swished around the icy glass before being poured out, and half an ounce of olive brine. Once all ingredients are in, it’s stirred, not shaken, and garnished with three stuffed olives and a spiral of lemon zest.

My mouth waters at the thought of my favorite cocktail. Of course, when Jade mentioned how much fun it had been to be behind the bar the night of her Grand Opening, something about the way she moved around, effortlessly pouring drink after drink and even doing her own karaoke rendition of whatever song the band was playing, she seemed so carefree. I wanted that. I wanted to do something so out of my element where people would think I lost my mind.

So that's what I did. I accepted her offer to work three of her busiest nights a week. It was an easy distraction I was thankful for. Things back here with Damon were rocky. Willa’s texts were less and far between, so public dates with Damon were often unnecessary. I assume the fact I’d moved in with him was enough to prove this thing between us was legit. I mean living together, must mean we’re serious about this, right?

As for Damon, he’d gone back to burying himself in his work, whatever that now entailed. I didn’t ask and I’m not sure I even want to know.

Last we spoke about it he’d mentioned he was now a partner of his company but that doesn’t mean he’s no longer a working employee. Especially since he’s technically working for me.

The text messages from my tormentor have kept coming but I do not know what to make of them anymore. Most of the time I ignore them, thinking it’s just some asshole playing mind games with me since there has been no apparent threat or present danger associated with the messages other than the package I received a few weeks ago. But every once in a while, a message comes in that makes me shudder and think twice about whether Enzo is dead. Every day I continue to fear more and more that my beloved husband isn’t really dead. The more I contemplate the possibility of it really being him behind the messages and packages, the more paranoid I become.

I surely would have heard from Luke by now if he wasn’t, but then again, if Luke’s really trying to help me, then he wouldn’t be stupid enough to reach out and lead whoever’s after me, straight to me. Would he?

Unable to continue pondering the unthinkable, I reach for the martini I prepared before coming out here and take a sip, leaning back to close my eyes just as my phone vibrates on the table beside me. Trying to disconnect from the world I ignore it, frankly afraid of who it might be, but the moment it rings once more, dread fills me to my core.

Lowering my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose, I pick up my phone to unlock it, inwardly cringing at the sight of my mother’s name on the screen. “Speak of the devil and she doth appear,” I curse under my breath.

So much for getting rid of the bitch. Willa’s a fucking parasite, tedious until you flush them completely.

As expected, her first message comes as a threat, warning me she hasn’t forgotten about what we spoke of at Stella’s wedding—the money she feels she’s owed and expects me to give her.

Willa: Don’t think you’re off the hook little girl.

Willa: That savage of yours may think he knows what’s best for my little girl but he’s going to be in for quite a surprise. XOXO, Mummy.

Unable to stand her threats against Damon, I quickly type up an equally spiteful response.

Me: Leave me alone, mother. I am not interested in your unsolicited opinions. Stay away from Damon and me, and whatever it is your plotting.

Willa: You owe me Wynter, and unless you want me interfering with the happily ever-after you’ve tricked yourself into believing you’ll have, you will get me what I want.

Knowing that continuing to fight her in this won’t be of any use, I tell her what she wants to hear in order to buy myself more time to come up with a plan.

Me: You’ll get your money, mother. And then you will disappear for good.

Willa: Meet me for lunch, The Sunroom, two o’clock. Don’t be late or I’ll come to you.

Looking down at the time on my screen, I groan when I realize I have less than an hour to meet her for this so-called lunch she’s thrown at me and expects me to show up at. Though if I don’t show my face and give her some semblance of my cooperation, she’ll continue to pester me and make things between Damon and I worse.

I initially told her I wouldn’t give her a cent of my inheritance though when she gave me an alternate route I laughed in her face and told her to fuck off. Yet the only other option I gave her was getting the money from my now extremely rich boyfriend. I’m not planning on taking a cent from Damon, I’ve already taken too much from him. Though maybe if I tell him I’m only planning on fooling her into believing that’s my plan, he’ll help me come up with an alternate solution.

Only problem is then I’d have to tell him why I’m even considering giving her anything, and I’ll have to admit to still being manipulated by the woman who’s belittled me my entire life.

Distracted and having forgotten to grab myself a towel, the small droplets of water trickle down my skin as the soft breeze makes goosebumps spread over my skin when I lie back after setting my phone back down on the table.

Lying here alone in silence with only the soft sound of the waterfall and the beauty of nature around me make me feel at peace for the first time in years.

Living by Enzo’s side was like living in a terrifying, recurring nightmare, unsure if I would ever wake up from it. Unsure if I’d make it out alive. I almost didn’t, whether it would have been by his hand or mine, and now that he’s back, in theory, it’s like I’m reliving the years of torture and uncertainty, fearing for my life every second of the day.

Being here with Damon and back around my brother and his friends has been a wonderful distraction, but it’s also been a horrible reminder of just how alone I am.

This agreement is only temporary, with a shelf life of forty-eight days. After our staged breakup, I will have to fend for myself.

I feel his gaze on me before I hear the throaty groan that leaves his lips. My eyes hide away, closed behind thick framed sunglasses, unable to withstand the heat radiating from his lustful stare. Hotter than the sun blazing in the sky the heat of my arousal burns wild, forcing me to press my thighs together.

A soft moan leaves my lips and Damon groans in response, the guttural sound only awakening a more intense desire in me. I need him to touch me, or at least I need to get off with his eyes on me, picturing his hands touching my heated flesh.

Without thinking twice, I bring my left hand up to my breast, squeezing it softly making my nipples stand in arousal. I refuse to open my eyes in fear I may talk myself out of what I’m about to do. Lowering my other hand to my pussy, I slowly slip a finger underneath the small triangle of fabric sticking to me, damp from both my earlier dip in the pool and my arousal.

My pussy twitches at my touch and my legs fall open wider from the intense sensation my fingers along with my thoughts of him bring me. I’ve barely just started and am already so close to coming apart from just the idea of him being around me. Of maybe feeling just as turned on as I am?

The sound of his footsteps approaching me mutes at the same time the lounger dips with the weight of him. He reaches for my legs, lying them over his lap as he slides closer to me, one hand on my thigh, the other on my lower leg. Delicately and with purpose he creeps his fingers closer to my center, making me squirm as my breath turns unsteady.

“Damon,” I moan, yet my eyes remain closed.

He leans forward, his lips tracing down my cheek in a heated caress. “You’re playing games you aren’t ready to lose, Princess,” he murmurs in my ear as his fingers trail their way closer to my heated center. The rough pads of his fingers delicately move across my abdomen, teasing me and making the ache in between my legs deepen to dangerous levels.

I close the small distance between us, cupping my palm around his chiseled jaw as I turn my head slightly so my lips graze his. A soft barely noticeable moan escapes him when my tongue slides against his bottom lip, but I hear it. I feel his jaw clench under my touch.

Damon wants me just as badly as I want him. He’s so close to breaking and giving me what I want, and I'm willing to force him to take the last step if need be.

“I’ve been waiting for you to make the next move Damon, yet you’re the one who refuses to play. What are you afraid of?” I ask, not bothering to open my eyes and look up at him. I couldn’t take it if he were to refuse me yet again. Though my pride wouldn’t let me give up if he did.

To my disappointment, yet to no surprise, as fast as his touch came it fades, the weight of his body against mine disappearing as his footsteps once again scuffle against the concrete as he walks away from me, leaving me alone and so incredibly frustrated.

After my failed attempt at seduction on Damon earlier today by the pool, I decided against meeting Willa for lunch, unable to fathom the current frustration and despair building up inside me. She could smell the desperation on me like some sick dog and would immediately know something was wrong. The last thing I need is for her to suspect there is trouble in paradise with Damon and I, and right now, I don’t think I’m doing such a good job of hiding what I’m feeling.

Not that standing here behind the bar as I’ve poured drink after drink to our patrons for the last two hours hides what I’m feeling. If anything, it’s like I’m wearing a giant neon sign over my head that says “Help, my boyfriend refuses to fuck me” . I’m the bartender, the one who’s supposed to provide unsolicited advice to my customers, not the other way around. Yet here I am, completely unsure what else to do.

I’ve tried everything outside of sneaking into his bedroom in the middle of the night, handcuffing him to his bedpost, yanking his pants off—not that he probably wears any clothes to sleep—and straddling his cock. Although it doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, I’m pretty sure it qualifies as assault regardless of the fact he’d surely enjoy himself.

“Earth to Wynter,” Jade calls out, waving her hands in front of my face. I snap out of my thoughts, my vision focusing on her. Her mouth quirks up in a suspicious smirk as she raises a brow in question.

“Sorry, what?” I ask, having missed the totally of whatever she asked me.

Jade’s smile widens, her bright aquamarine eyes full of curiosity. She’s dressed similar to me, a pair of high-waisted jeans that highlight our naturally plump and perky asses and a cropped white t-shirt with the name and logo of The Silver Wolf.

Yet unlike my hair, which falls in soft waves over my shoulders and down my back, hers is slicked back into a high ponytail that highlights the perfect bone structure of her face. The woman is model perfection.

“I said, are you ready for a break? You’ve been at it nonstop for the last two hours, and by the looks of it, you could use a smoke break.”

I tilt my head slightly, not comprehending what she means. “But I don’t smoke.”

“No shit, Princess, it’s just an expression.” Without further explanation, Jade turns her body toward the bottles of liquor lined up on the bar shelf in front of me and pours two shots of tequila, handing me one and keeping one for herself. “Slainte,” she says as she throws it back and urges me to do the same.

I reluctantly take it, instantly regretting drinking on the job but if it’s my boss who is technically the one who has poured me a shot, I really can’t say no, right?

“I’m really not tired, Jade. Just have a lot on my mind is all,” I say, and immediately regret it when the curiosity in her eyes brims with mischief.

Once again grabbing the bottle, she pours us a refill and motions for Jeremy, the other bartender working tonight, to take over for me. Jade leads me toward the end of the bar counter, away from the live band playing in the corner, and steps around the bar, taking a seat on one stool on the other side. I remain standing behind the bar, not really comfortable with whatever conversation we’re about to have, and instead take the shot in my hand to ease the tension that’s creeping up my neck.

Jade watches me tentatively, careful about what she is to say next. “Alright then, then tell me what’s up? Something between you and Drake?” she asks, and it really throws me off.

Not that in recent weeks Jade and I have formed a tight-knit friendship like the ones she keeps with Scarlett and Stella, or like the ones I once had with Carrington and the girls, but we’ve gotten to know each other some more and both realized the biases we had about one another were the farthest from the truth. I judged her because of where she came from and who her sister was. Just like I had with Scar, I deemed Jade a gold digger who got pregnant in order to trap Bass into staying with her, but all of that was just what I let myself believe.

I’m no saint, never was and I don’t see myself ever truly changing my DNA. They raised me to believe belittling others was okay. To think I was not only more privileged than those who went to my school but to let them know I was at the top of the food chain, in a position in the hierarchy of our world they could never reach because it was my birthright.

Yet now that I’ve been forced to see things in a different light, now that I’m relying on the same people I outcast because I met monsters worse than I ever was or could ever be, I’m trying to do better and erase the mistakes of my past.

Jade clears her throat when minutes go by and I remain silent. I’m eager to tell her, to share even a bit of the desperation I feel because the man I’m pretty sure I’m in love with, refuses to even look my way. But if I go there, then I’d have to tell her why, and that would open a can of worms I’m not ready to deal with, not to mention it would shed light on our farce and I don’t think I can handle that on top of everything else.

“Nothing like that, actually,” I say, though we are interrupted when the devil herself walks into the bar. I swear that’s the butt of some joke.

Willa struts over to where Jade and I are, her stiletto heels like sharp daggers, clicking on the hardwood floor as she walks. The crimson red dress she has on, this one very different to the usual shades of white and beige she wears, is so tight it fits her like a second skin.

It fits since a snake is supposed to shed their skin now and then.

“You know when I had you followed, this was honestly the last place I thought you would ever step foot into.” You can hear the disgust in her voice as she slides her fingers over the bar counter and acts like she’s collected a layer of dust. Her eyes rake over my frame in disappointment. “A bar Wynter, really? Is this some Coyote Ugly fantasy of yours you want to play out? Are you going to get up on the tabletops and put on a show with this one,” Willa sneers as she looks back and forth between Jade and I.

I’m ready to tell her off and send her straight back out the way she came in but Jade beats me to the punch. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Jade shouts, standing up abruptly.

My mother, of course, ignores her and settles into the bar stool proceeding to order a drink like she hasn’t just insulted the two of us in one blow. “I’ll have a dirty martini, extra dry, three olives, pitted not stuffed, but with a splash of brine of the stuffed olives.”

“You’re joking right?” Jade mocks, clearly and rightfully pissed the fuck off.

Pulling Jade off to the side, I get started on my mother’s drink, not missing the way her eyes roam around the room in disgust. The Silver Wolf is a prestigious establishment, luxury at its finest here in Hillcrest hills, but apparently it’s not to the standard of Willa Servite.

Which doesn't really mean much given the way my mother has been begging for scraps lately.

Jade’s chest heaves in anger. “Wynter, I swear to God if you don't let me drag your mother out by her bleached blonde weave, I am going to murder you, then her.”

I shake my head and do what I always do, saving a woman who doesn’t deserve it. “Jade, please, just let me deal with her. She’s here because I ditched her lunch invitation earlier today. She’s a leech, a nasty little parasite and if I don’t give her the attention she so desperately craves, she will just keep coming back. Please, I promise, one drink, five minutes and she’s out of your hair, never to set foot in here again.”

Jade scoffs, her sharp glare once again meeting Willa’s who sits there with a satisfied smirk on her face. “Oh, she sure as fuck is never setting foot here again. Five minutes Wyn, or I’ll have security drag her out for me.”

I nod and Jade walks away though not before once again glaring murderously at my mother, and this time, I can see the tension in Willa’s face. Willa’s actually a little frightened by Jade and it’s hilarious.

“What is her problem,” Willa sneers, her gaze once again meeting mine.

“Her problem, mom? Maybe the fact that you barged into her business and insulted it before making yourself at home like you are owed something.”

“Her bar?” she asks unimpressed, once again looking around the space as if she’s looking for something wrong with the place. The Silver wolf is perfection—upscale elegance with an edge. The rich feel of the entire space—marble countertops and table tops along with authentic hardwood floors in a deep shade of espresso brown all highlighted by the elegant light fixtures hanging from the ceiling—create a luxurious ambiance. Yet the black leather of the booths and the eccentric art hung up on the walls give it a modern twist of danger.

It’s everything Jade and Bass represent.

“I should have known,” Willa continues, “That’s the one who sunk her claws into Sebastian isn’t it. Hmm, such a darling boy, a looker too, fallen victim to another one of those vile leeches that want nothing more than to suck the life and money right out of them.”

My jaw nearly drops to the floor from her bluntness but I shouldn’t be surprised. Especially since not three years ago, I’d probably be saying the same thing.

“God Willa, you truly are deplorable. Jade, is Bass’s fiancée, and the mother of his twins. She’s not only the perfect person for him, but she’s a good person and an even better boss.”

Willa scoffs, her bright red nails tapping annoyingly against the counter. What is with this new bold appearance? Willa would never be caught dead in such a bold and gaudy color.

“Boss? You mean to tell me you really work here?” Disgust revels inside of her at the mere thought of her daughter working at a bar, under a woman who just a few years ago was as penniless as she is now. “I thought this was just some serve yourself establishment, and you snuck back there cause the service sucks. Besides you have an incredibly wealthy boyfriend, why the need to work, daughter? Unless things have gone sour between you and your beau?” she continues, the tiny little wheels in her head turning. “Hmm I knew it would end at some point, well it is what it is, underneath the billions there still hid that pathetic poor little boy not worth a damn thing. I just hope for your sake you’ve gotten me what you owe me before you went and ruined it?”

From the corner of my eye I can see Jade speaking to Big Sal, the enormous, ex-NFL player she hired on as head of her security team here at The Silver Wolf. I just know she’s giving him the heads up to drag Willa out of here by the heel of her six-inch stilettos.

Trying not to cause a scene, I lean over the bar toward her, anger building inside me at her insufferableness. “Hush mother, someone can hear you. I told you I would get you what you needed but I can’t just waltz into the bank and take the money out myself.”

“You mean he doesn’t give you an allowance?”

“I’m not his fucking child mother. I’m not with Damon because of his money.” It’s not a lie. My feelings for Damon have only grown more intense in recent weeks and I know his status and wealth mean nothing to me. Not anymore, not like they did before. “In just a few months I will have plenty myself. I’ve needed nothing from anyone. The only reason I’m willing to give you anything at all is to get you the hell out of my life for good.”

She lets out a sharp, menacing chuckle that raises the hair on the back of my neck. “Oh my sweet, ignorant little girl,” she says, reaching forward to caress my cheek in a tender and motherly way. At least until her fingers tighten on my chin and she tugs me toward her, our lips so close I know she can feel mine tremble. “You’ve been mouth fed with a silver-spoon your entire life you ungrateful little bitch. You do not know what it is like to need. You lived in a palace, everything you had was of the best quality—designer brands, luxury goods—you never wanted for anything…”

“But the love and care of a mother,” I interrupt her, letting my anger and frustration out. Tears burn in my sockets, aching to be released, but I can’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me cry because of her indifference toward me. Especially because her expression remains indifferent. I see no emotion in her glacial blue eyes as she stares back at me, a ghostly reflection of myself, of what I used to be like when under her guidance.

I thank the heavens daily I was never forced to do such a thing—that for whatever reason, Enzo never touched me. Our marriage was more to keep up appearances and give him the power and respect he so desperately craved and believed he was owed.

Though the more emotional I become as I remember the horrors of what I went through, I instantly regret having spoken so loudly when the heads of the patrons closest to us turn and they stare at me with pity in their gazes.

But it’s my mother who looks at me with nothing but hatred and shame in her expression. My words rattled nothing inside her. How could they when there was nothing there to begin with? Just a beautiful, empty husk corroded and rotting from the inside out.

At one point, Willa and I had a relationship, but it was never between a mother and daughter. She saw me as an equal, someone she could go out and party with, and borrow clothes from. I’d go as far as saying she was jealous of my youth and freedom—something she never had after being practically forced to marry Warren when she was only eighteen. Similar to what happened to me. Only she was pregnant with twins, a mother of two at eighteen, yet again forced in order to produce an heir for the Servite Dynasty.

Big Sal appears beside her before I can respond. Willa doesn't even bother looking toward him, already knowing why he’s come. She knows her time is up and before she can be dragged out and humiliated, she stands, grabs her Hermes bag from the counter, and walks away.

Though not before turning once last time to face me. “Tick, tock my sweet girl. Mommy is growing impatient. You don’t want to see what happens when my patience is tested.”