Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Three

Carter

I sit back on the foot of my bed, watching Isabella Julis getting dressed for the event. The button in my hand is heavy, tempting me to send her to her knees, but I refrain for now. I want her to forget it’s there and go on about her night as normal until I can punish her through the hours as they come.

She stalks out in a long, shimmery white dress, something reminiscent of a roaring twenties outfit or maybe even something for a new-age wedding. Either way, she looks too stunning to take into public. If I could have her all to myself, right here and right now, then I would.

But we are nearly late for my own party.

“What do you think?” she asks, giving me a twirl of the fabric. “Do you like it?”

“I’d like it better on the floor, around your ankles.”

She frowns like I’ve insulted her.

“Dove, when will you learn?” I make my way toward her, brushing her cheek with my fingertips and igniting a shudder down her delicate spine. “You will never find a piece of clothing worthy of your body.”

She blushes, leaning in to kiss my cheek. I take that delicacy for now, knowing that if I dare pursue more with her, that dress will end up in a puddle on the floor. She takes her little purse with her, hiding a cell phone that I got for her. She checks it once in the hallway, then again in the lobby.

“Expecting something?”

“I was texting Sam a while ago. I asked if she would be at the party with Tristan.”

“And?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t heard from her much since…” She hangs her head, refusing to continue with that somber thought.

Ernesto opens the door for us, and I help her inside the backseat first, holding my finger up before I join her.

“One minute, dove. Work call.”

She nods, and I shut the door, pulling my phone out of my pocket, dialing a familiar number, and pressing it to my ear. It rings once, then twice, before a gravelly voice picks up on the other side.

“What’s up, boss?”

“Hey, Tristan. Have you spoken to Sam lately?”

He clears his throat, and I hear rustling through the phone line as if Tristan’s moving rooms. “I was just in bed with her, actually. She’s asleep. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Isabella was just concerned. She said she hadn’t heard from her in a while.”

He hesitates, and I can already tell something is off. “Well, yeah. You’re partially right about that.”

“What’s going on then?”

“She’s just a little cautious, that’s all.”

“She was about ready to kick my ass when she found out I used a belt on her favorite neighbor. Now she’s cautious?” I roll my eyes, no longer finding the energy to deal with this. “What’s really happening?”

He swallows so hard that I can hear the gulp through the call. “Look, cuz. You kind of took down the mayor by exposing that you killed a few people for him in the past. The FBI and ATF know about some of the drugs and guns shit, maybe even the nightclubs we run by the docks. But admitting that you’ve killed people is hard for people to swallow. Sam is just a little leery of you right now.”

I try not to get pissed off too quickly. I want to be upset, but not because it’s some sort of insult to not be liked. I’ve been hated, feared, and damn near killed all my life. Her opinion doesn’t hurt my feelings.

But it does hurt Isabella if Sam doesn’t want to be around her because of me.

“Well, thanks for being honest, I guess,” I growl. “Why the fuck are you sleeping, anyway? Don’t you have to be downtown at the gala hall soon?”

He pauses as if checking the time. “Fuck, you’re right. I’ll get dressed and be there soon.”

I dare to hang up, but I can see Isabella in the backseat of the car, staring at her phone that doesn’t ring. She’s already feeling so trapped with me, which is understandable. Some hint of normality might do her well.

“Hey, Tristan.”

“Yeah, man?”

“If you could convince Sam to come, I would owe you one.”

He exhales lightly. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see what I can do.”

I tuck my phone into my pocket and find the button for Isabella’s toy. Sliding into the car beside her, she looks downtrodden but covers it semi-well. Her smile is enough to melt my heart, though I can’t wait to see the look on her face when it changes.

Ernesto takes us down the main road, spotlights shining into the cloudy skies overhead. It beckons to the people, letting them know something big is going to be happening soon. It’s only a matter of time before we arrive at the venue, but I can already feel the excitement in the air.

“You’re going to win,” she whispers, clinging to my arm.

I rest my arm in her lap for control. “I’ve already won once with you.”

She hides her blush and moves in close to my side. She’s so sure that she loves me, something I never thought would come true for me, but it’s been nice. It’s also been interesting. I’ve gotten to know her so well these last few months, seeing her fear that I’d be arrested and never make it out of my prison cell.

I’ve also seen her hopeful for a fresh start, wanting to create a normal life with me, something that just isn’t possible. I can only predict that’s why she hasn’t liked any of the homes we’ve been looking at. They’re huge, they create space between us, and they’re nothing like what she’s used to.

I hold her tight while we get out of the car and make it to the red velvet carpet on the stairs. I picked the venue where Frances Johnson held his little election party before. I thought it would be ironic, perhaps even hilarious to some, to keep this place as my election party venue.

Isabella goes stoic at the sight of this place again, recalling the last time I brought her to a party there. She grazes the scar on her wrist methodically, thinking about the moment when Jacob and Frances tormented her just to get at me. It worked, but I tried very hard to not let it show.

She makes her way through the doors first, leaving me for a moment to find the bar. I don’t stop her, nodding for Ernesto to keep a close eye on my dove. He understands my intent and follows her like a faithful guard dog. I spot a few familiar faces in the crowd, with Nicolas and Lorenzo finding me instantly.

“If it isn’t the future mayor,” Nicolas taunts, his boyish face smiling ear to ear.

Lorenzo chuckles as well, elbowing him in the side. “Who knows, maybe one day we can say we’re related to the president.”

“Shut up,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “I don’t have high hopes for tonight. Killian is still ahead in the polls.”

“It will work out,” Nicolas says. “Don’t fret. The Blackthorne family will prevail either way.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” I add, scoping out the bar area again.

Isabella is a vision in her long, white gown. She sits on the barstool but keeps an eye on the front doors, waiting for Sam, I assume. She crosses her legs, still holding a martini glass in her hand. When she sets it down, I reach into my pocket, far too tempted to watch her squirm.

I push the switch into the on position, watching her snap upright with a wild streak in her eyes. She practically falls backward off the chair, catching herself against the edge of the bar. She adjusts, plays it cool, and tries to catch her heavy breath.

“Stunning date. Carter.” Lorenzo pops up beside me, watching my darling dove struggle to keep her composure. “Is she alright? She looks uncomfortable in the dress.”

“It’s not the dress,” I admit. “But don’t worry about her. She won’t be in it long.”

“Is that why you’ve been ditching the downtown project lately?” Nicolas asks.

I swivel around, letting my focus fall off the sight of Isabella at the bar. He sips on a beer that he’s taken from a passing waiter, almost oblivious to the insult he’s just lashed me with.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Nicolas looks perplexed. “What?” He shrugs, taking another gulp. “I’m just pointing out the obvious, Carter. You haven’t been at work lately. It wasn’t a dig.”

“Bullshit, it wasn’t,” I reply. “I’ve been working my ass off these last few months to make sure the entire family doesn’t fall through the cracks that led to Frances Johnson getting his ass locked in a four-by-four cell at Sing Sing. I don’t need you to tell me I haven’t been at work.”

“The office,” Lorenzo mutters. “That’s all he meant. You haven’t been to the office. We’ve been at the job site you bought off the Laceys after their unfortunate demise. The downtown building. That’s just the place you haven’t been around; that’s it.”

I trade a look between them both. “The day you get to run things is the day I give a shit about what you both have to say about my whereabouts.”

Nicolas looks offended, but I don’t give a damn, even if I try.

“Carter, please,” a demure voice cracks behind me.

I turn, taking Isabella in my arms. She leans against my chest hopelessly, panting while it’s clear she’s already suffered through an orgasm or two.

I flick the switch in my pocket, but her knees still tremble underneath her.

“I’ll be back,” I sigh, looking at the guys. “I need to handle something first.”

My cock is begging to break out of these pants just to drag up her silky wetness, but something stops me. The music in the venue is loud, making the chatter among the guests even louder, but I still catch a few words I don’t think I was supposed to hear.

“Yeah, just like always. Tend to her instead of the business on hand.”

Even Isabella looks perplexed, forcing herself out of my arms. She hangs her head slightly, pushing her fingertips into my chest.

“I’ll go back to the bar. I just… I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I bite.

I hold my finger up, signaling her to give me a minute. Turning back around, Lorenzo takes a long stride backward, trying to make himself invisible. Nicolas clearly regrets his choice of words by now, holding his hand out in surrender while the other clings to his beer.

“I’d like to know where you get the balls to tell me how to run this family,” I snarl.

Nicolas swallows before speaking. “I was just being an asshole. Sorry, Carter. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but come on, even you can admit that things have been different since she came along.”

“Different doesn’t matter,” I bite. “What I say, goes. That’s final. I’m still in charge, even without you keeping tabs on my whereabouts.”

He looks as if he’s realized my looming ferocity, but he speaks again, proving his idiocy is far from over. “I don’t need to keep tabs, Carter. I know where you’ve been. Besides, I’m not saying you can’t play with your woman; it’s not about her.”

“Then what the hell is this about?”

He hesitates, tripping over his words at first. “Well, I guess it’s about—”

“Don’t fucking say it,” Lorenzo cuts in.

I trade an irritated look between them both. “Don’t say what, exactly?”

Nicolas chugs the rest of his beer and sighs. “The fact that you swing your weight around in this family, but you’re not even a real Blackthorne.”

Whether it’s true or not, I can’t be sure, but the room goes absolutely silent. I step forward, standing against Nicolas while he rattles slightly. He is afraid, as he should be, but I can’t make a scene here. It’s the election party, after all. I have to uphold some level of decorum.

Instead, I flick a look toward the exit, and he takes it without pause.

Ernesto presses his hand to my chest, muttering something about taking a seat. I acquiesce to his suggestion, finding a table off to the side of the party commotion. Isabella lingers a few paces behind as if trying to stay out of the way. Lorenzo shoves past her and Ernesto, coming to sit down beside me.

“He didn’t mean that; he’s just frustrated,” Lorenzo pleads, trying to cover the tracks of what that asshole just said to my face. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? That was his fifth beer tonight. Wait for him to sober up before you do anything.”

My eyes lift only to see Isabella coming forward, her hand grazing my shoulder. I snatch her wrist rather abruptly, pulling her around to my lap. She squirms in my arms, my hands digging into her thighs and her ass, needing her to stay planted firmly against my body.

She leans into my chest, her delicate hand pressing to my chest. “Carter, your pulse.”

“It’s fast,” I snarl. “I’m pissed off.”

Lorenzo looks worried, which he should be. His best friend in this family might lose his throat over what he just said to me. But there’s too much going on right now for me to handle. I have to worry about the election, not about some frivolous rumors spreading through the family about how I’m not a blood member of the Blackthorne gene pool.

Isabella strokes the side of my face, bringing her lips to mine. It’s enough to steal the heat from my chest, but it sends rivers of fire straight to my cock. With her pressed up against me like this, her ass on my lap, it’s hard to not imagine plucking that toy out of her pussy and taking her right here, right now, on this table.

Public sex isn’t really her favorite thing to do lately, which is understandable.

Tristan’s face weaves through the crowd, and while I’m happy to see my right-hand man, seeing him come alone has me even more irritated. Isabella notices it, too, climbing off my lap so she can leave this meeting to the boys.

She doesn’t make it far, my fist finding her dress.

“Where are you going?”

She swallows at my stern tone. I don’t mean to be strict with her, but she’s not leaving my sight tonight. “The bathroom, Carter. Just to fix my makeup.”

“Your makeup is fine, dove. Sit down.”

She looks at Tristan once more, seemingly so uneasy around him still. He wasn’t the nicest to her before, especially after that shit he said about her being Brooke’s replacement. I beat his ass for it, though, and he’s aware that he made a tragic mistake.

Still, she’s been uneasy around him these last few months.

I’d still rather rip her panties off with my teeth right here in front of everyone than let her leave my sight. I bring my hand against her ass, swatting at the spot I know is probably the most sensitive. It’s close to her thigh, making her jump slightly, and I give her a very clear warning to get back into her spot before I make her.

She finally surrenders, digging her backside into my crotch while she sits back onto my lap. Tristan brushes past her, which is his best move yet, and trades a tense look with Lorenzo and Ernesto.

“What’s going on here? Feels like I just walked into a freezer. What’s with the cold shoulder?”

I sneer at his attempt to be casual. “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit right now. Would someone tell me what’s going on with the poll closings?”

“Last one just closed,” Ernesto sighs, scrolling through his phone. “We should get a phone call in about thirty minutes or so.”

Lorenzo stands from his seat, speaking briefly into Tristan’s ear before stalking for the exit. My most trusted cousin falls into the chair once occupied by Lorenzo. He looks at me with a hopeful look, like he’s waiting for the bad news to start pouring in.

“What’s the plan with Nicolas then?” Tristan asks while shaking his head. “That wasn’t the wisest move on his part, but if he’s drunk, then it should be excused.”

“Bullshit,” I bite. “He knew what he was saying when he spoke. The alcohol just helped him say it.”

“Carter,” Isabella mumbles, shifting uncomfortably against my cock. “I should go. This talk doesn’t really concern me, and I don’t want to be in the way.”

She slides down my leg like she’s going to defy me a second time.

“You move another fucking inch, and I’ll bend you over my knee, dove.”

She pauses with a tranquil look of panic lightly kissing her features. She moves back up my leg, readjusting herself while I lean back into my chair. She doesn’t move very much, still keeping her eyes on the floor. I would like to enjoy myself tonight at some point, but everyone is trying to piss me off.

As much as I would hate to take it out on her ass later with my belt, I fear that’s where we’re headed.

“Let’s all just calm down tonight,” Ernesto sighs, patting my shoulder. “Enjoy the drinks, the snacks, and maybe even go take a spin on the dance floor.”

Isabella winces at that last suggestion, something about that offer making her deflate.

“I agree,” Tristan adds. “We should just reconvene later about the Nicolas issue. Let’s worry about the election tonight, okay?”

I finally agree, whisking Isabella onto the dance floor, where we sway to the light music. She doesn’t like the attention it brings her, but I remain firm with her in my arms. She tips her head onto my shoulder, letting my hand on her hip slide over to cover her lower back.

“Sorry I snapped,” I whisper into her hair. “That remark he made about family set me off more than it should have.”

“I don’t like it when you’re upset,” she mutters under the sound of the music. “I just want us to be happy, Carter. No more fighting.”

I force her chin up in the middle of our casual stroll of a dance. “There’s no such thing as peace in this family. There never will be, either.”

She doesn’t act surprised, but she does look wounded.

I keep her in my arms as long as possible, holding her tighter while the time passes by us. Eventually, Tristan pulls me toward the stage. I make sure Isabella knows to stay put, leaving with a kiss while I make it to the microphone stand in front of the large, live band. Everyone claps, and I try to remain charming with a smile, but I’m far too pissed off for that right now.

The media is off to the side, snapping photos and trying to get their angle for the announcement. Tristan hands me his phone first, his eyes downcast as I take it into my palm. A headline reads in bold font across his screen.

Killian Hughes is the winner of the mayoral campaign in New York City.

I prepare my concession speech in my head while also trying to think of the damage this will do to the Blackthorne enterprise. Everything I’ve been avoiding for the last eight months is about to go down the drain for good.

Mr. Tough on Crime is moving into my domain, and I’m the epitome of a lawbreaker.