Cruel Hearts : An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance (Ruthless Legacy Book 2) Read online

  Cruel Hearts

  Part Two

  Ruthless Legacy

  Scarlett Winters

  Copyright 2020 Scarlett Winters

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any way or by any means. Including but not limited to recording, photocopying, any electronic methods, without the prior written consent of the publisher. This book is strictly a work of fiction, any references to persons, places or things are all completely fictional.

  Warning: This book is for adult audiences.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Keith

  To say I was furious would be the least descriptive way to describe what I felt.

  I would burn a fucking house down, and the more that thought progressed graphically into my head, the closer I got to the Carson manor. It’s possibly not the right thought at the moment, but I didn’t care. I quickly made my way inside and threw my car keys towards the butler at the door.

  "Hey, what's going on?" I asked, breathing heavily.

  Luca turned towards me. A funny look crossed his face, but he still answered me. "Your father’s in his room."

  "Wide awake?" I ran a hand through my hair as the woman working for Isabel – my father's second wife – came up to me timidly, a glass of water in her hands.

  "Mr. Carson, your father has been asking for you," she addressed me, offering the glass.

  I waved my hand dismissively. "Fuck this shit. Get me whiskey instead; I'll be up there." Then, I climbed the stairs, furious about the fact that my beloved father was so desperate to snatch the control off of me that he called for a meeting before even consulting me. Worse, I had to learn about it through Don Castillo, the patriarch of our rival family.

  I know exactly what Father was doing – he wanted to show everyone who held the actual power, even if he had to humiliate his own son in the process.

  "Oh, my god, what happened?" a woman’s voice interrupted my thoughts just as a pair of hands went over my chest, pulling at the wine-stained shirt.

  "I'm assuming you know." I smiled at Isabel sarcastically, who had a sympathetic smile on her face.

  Her blue eyes studied my face. "Are you hurt?" she asked, oblivious of my attitude, bringing a hand towards my left cheek.

  You see, my father married Isabel three years back. She was a junior in college – or was she a sophomore? I don't remember exactly, but the point is that she is awfully too young for my father. The two apparently "fell" in love at one event that my father attended in Paris.

  Unlike most stepmothers, though, Isabel wasn't necessarily a bitch. She was kind to us – my father and me – and understood that I would never call a woman only three years my serious as Mother. She mostly kept to herself, and I appreciated that. The one thing I didn’t like was that Isabel was overly touchy-feely and always sending mixed signals my way. There was no way in hell that I would fuck my father’s wife, no matter how hot she was.

  "I think he'll live. With a stick in his hand for support, he is ready to take over,” another voice spoke from behind.

  This had to be a joke. I turned around to see Father standing a few feet away from us.

  "I came as soon as I heard," I uttered, taking a step away from Isabel. As “kind” as Isabel was, my father was often suspicious of her cheating on him. That's why you don't marry a French model at 50 fucking years, but that was a debate for another time. "Luca must've told you—"

  I could tell that Father was pissed as he cut me off with a grunt. "He did, and he also told me how you've been fucking around for the past weeks," Father spat.

  I laughed. There it is. "I highly doubt Luca would say that, but if he did, I might as well put a bullet through his head," I replied, trying to look as calm as possible.

  "You will do no such thing!" my father exclaimed, indignant.

  Grinning, I said, "I will do that to anyone who tries to fuck me over."

  Father did not reply immediately; there was a silent, indirect threat exchange between us. There was no way in hell I would stand here and take shit from him, especially not after bringing his business back up from the fucking ground.

  "Are you threatening me? Is that what this is now?" Father finally uttered, taking a step towards me. I could see Isabel inch away from me in my peripheral vision.

  "I thought we were still talking about Luca,” I retorted coolly. “Besides, I'm in no mood to argue with you. I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow—"

  "You're not going," Father interrupted.

  My brows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me."

  I was confused. Is that what this man was worried about when he had other enemies to think of? I did not take care of most of them to be fucking discarded at the end.

  "I'm still the acting don," I uttered, my head held up.

  "Not anymore," Father countered, taking a seat on the edge of his bed and grunting. Isabel moved to help him adjust his shoulder.

  "You don't know jack shit about what's been going on since you were in Disney fucking land for the unconscious, Father." The words came out to be more bitter than I imagined.

  "You still expect me to take you seriously after the clown you've been? What the fuck did you do with Castillo's daughter? Are you fucking her?" he snapped.

  I chose not to reciprocate his tone. "I settled the matter. The Castillos would have been in here, fucking you over."

  Father ignored my remark. "I'll take Luca. People need to know that I am back in power."

  I couldn't help but laugh again. "Maybe the fact that you need to hide your fucking son to make sure people know you're in charge says enough, doesn't it?"

  My father looked at me. This was the angriest I had ever seen him. His face turned red and green with the passing seconds. "Get out!" he yelled.

  "Un-fucking-believable," I commented, still laughing.

  "Get the fuck out!" he yelled again.

  I rolled my eyes, but I did as Father told, ignoring all the eyes on me as I tried to mask my own anger with a smile. Of all people, my father should know what happens when you try to fuck over a Carson.

  By the time I got to my room, I collapsed onto the bed, instantly groaning in pain when reality hit me. In all the fuckery that went down tonight, I completely forgot the first fight I had gotten into with the limp dick Castillo son. Though I landed some of my best punches in his face, he had gotten me good as well. I couldn't move my shoulder, and my undereye was slightly purple. The bruise on my lip, however, was the most noticeable, with the blood having dried up and making it look slightly swollen.

  I decided to shower, tossing my once perfectly good suit into the trash since it was no good anymore with the wine stains. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the look on Eloisa's face when I kissed her cheek. All the stubbornness and smugness was gone with a blink of an eye. It was as if she were a high school girl again.

  Now that I think about it, it was always her and one other girl and guy. She had shorter hair at the time, and I almost cracked a bet to ask her out. Eloisa had always been beautiful, but there was something more about her now that I did not recognize when we were still kids.
Maybe it was because it was the first time that I had observed her so closely, and boy, was she a piece of work.

  I snapped out of my thoughts once again when I heard a knock on the door.

  "Not now!" I yelled, dismissing whoever the fuck that was. I only had a towel on, and I did not wish to see or interact with anyone who had the hopes of trying to convey my fucking old man's message to me.

  "It's me," Isabel uttered from the other side of the door.

  I sighed. Apparently, it didn't apply to Isabel.

  "Hi." I was surprised when Isabel opened the door, which I forgot to lock. Peeking her head in, she had a smile on her lips, and her hair was up in a bun.

  "Can I help you?" I really didn't want to be bothered right now, but here she was.

  "I just wanted to see if you were okay. How's the lip?"

  I scoffed. "Oh, I'm spectacular." I walked over to the closet, pulling out a pair of fresh sweatpants.

  "I'm sorry about what happened," Isabel said as she walked inside my room.

  I looked up at her. Does she not see that I'm practically naked? Out loud, I replied, "It's not your fault, and I have to change, so…"

  She nodded and placed a glass of whiskey on the table next to the door.

  "You didn't have to," I told her, her blue eyes still staring at me.

  "I just happened to catch Beth on her way up here."

  "Who's Beth?" I asked and motioned for her to look away. It’s not that I minded her seeing me without the towel off, but I'm a decent guy, and she's still very much married to my father.

  "I hired her," she said, turning around instead of actually leaving.

  "The blonde," I acknowledged, and Isabel giggled slightly. "You can look now." I tossed the towel on the dresser chair.

  Isabel faced me again, arms crossed over her chest. I tried not to notice how quickly she switched the dress she wore half an hour ago into a nightgown.

  "I really don't feel like listening to one of his advocates," I started, running a hand through my hair as I grabbed a shirt and put it on.

  Isabel sighed, sitting down on the edge of my bed, propping one leg over the other. "As I said, I came here to see if you were okay."

  I nodded.

  "Oh, and Luca told me that he had your phone,” she added. “You left it at the party, so I gave it to Beth to keep it with your stuff.”

  "Right. I leave tomorrow." I realized that I still had a college to go to, despite all the things that had been happening. If I were to take over the business, I wouldn't have gone back, but something seemed to change now. "Thank you for looking after my stuff."

  I walked over to get the glass of whiskey and took a sip, the liquor burning my throat in the nicest way. Just what I needed. I made my way back to Isabel, waiting for her to leave, certain she got the hint. Isabel looked like she didn't care for the world nor had enough brains to do so, but she was smarter than she looked. But when Isabel stayed on the bed, looking as innocent as ever, I gave up and took a seat next to her.

  She was cunning – I’d give her that. Isabel knew she was beautiful and used it to her advantage. It's not every day that you become the new Mrs. Carson. She never spoke up, barely voicing an opinion. Isabel left my father and me always fighting and at each other’s throats to be able to be on both sides at the same time. It’s just like what she was doing now – after comforting my father, here she was, next to me.

  "Is there anything else?" I asked her.

  Isabel turned her body towards me. "I just want you to know that you can talk to me, and I know you were good. I've never seen your father handle the business like you did, as much as I love him," she uttered.

  I smiled. Though Isabel might just say that to make me feel better, it felt nice to be acknowledged for once.

  "He doesn't think the same," I answered.

  "Because he doesn't see you as I do," she said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  "Thank you, Isabel. I appreciate this, but I don't think Father will be thrilled to see you here."

  She looked at me, confused.

  "Like this, at this time, you know," I clarified.

  "He's sleeping," Isabel replied, smiling.

  Oh.

  "It's the medicines. He still isn't fully healthy, but he doesn't understand that," she added, sounding almost sad.

  "You take good care of him." It was an honest compliment.

  "I guess," she mumbled, tucking a hair behind her ear. Isabel sat up straight, looking up at me.

  Perhaps it was the loneliness that I saw in her eyes – something that I could also feel at the moment. Not being worthy enough, the entire night had been nothing but a mess. I really couldn't distract myself enough to stop thinking about everything. I had the power I had longed for, and now it was gone. It would be an understatement if I said that I was just upset.

  "Does Father take care of you, though?" I heard myself asking as I took another long swig of the whiskey before placing the glass on the bedside table.

  "He does," she answered quickly.

  I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "I don't see it." I was acting like the worst possible version of myself, but I had stopped thinking. I just wanted to be distracted.

  "You're never around, are you now?" Isabel retorted, hitting my arm playfully.

  I winced, realizing I had a bruise there, too.

  "I'm sorry," she uttered, but I shook my head. "Did the Castillo girl do that to you?"

  I shrugged. "Her brother did."

  Isabel looked at me weirdly.

  "It's a long story. Frankly, I'm too exhausted right now," I told her.

  She smiled, leaning in so slightly as I propped myself on my elbows, looking at Isabel.

  "I hope he got equally beaten," she responded.

  I rolled my eyes. "Can you call this beaten?" I asked, pointing a finger towards my lip.

  Isabel merely hummed and leaned closer to me. She smelled like vanilla and lemons.

  "This is not beaten,” I continued. “You should have a look at him – I'm pretty sure I broke his nose." My words sounded a little slurry as I felt intoxicated.

  "You should let me fix this," Isabel said softly, running a finger over my lip.

  "I didn't stop you," I replied.

  She looked a bit taken back by my response, but she smiled immediately. "I'll be right back." Isabel leaned in a little further before getting up to leave.

  A little voice that still had a bit of conscience in the back of my head told me to sleep and let it go, but I was not sleepy. And despite everything, I don't think I had ever even paid attention to my father’s new wife.

  So, is this me paying attention to her or distracting myself from the fucked-up life I have? As I waited for Isabel, I reached out for my cigarette from the side drawer and took three before she arrived with the blonde girl, Beth, behind her. She had drinks and a box of BandAid in her hands.

  "Hello, Beth."

  The girl responded quickly and exited the room, closing the door shut.

  I took a long drag before speaking.

  "Did Luca leave yet?" I asked.

  Isabel shrugged. "Beth told me he’s not here."

  Sure, she did. It was a good thing that both of us were on the same page.

  "Lock the door, Isabel," I told her.

  She gave me a look that I didn't really understand. For a second, I thought I fucked up again, but then, there was no way I was misreading a situation that was already pretty obvious.

  Isabel obliged, locking the door before sitting next to me and placing the box next to me.

  "You went to nursing school, didn't you?"

  She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. “You remember that?"

  "Of course," I said. I took another drag and tossed the cigarette away, missing the dustbin in the corner.

  "Smoking is awful. It's just as bad as getting shot, you know," Isabel uttered, bringing the cotton to my lip and dabbing the antiseptic on it slowly.

  "Do you really t
hink smoking is what's going to get me killed?" I joked.

  Isabel rolled her eyes. "I'm just saying. I don't know how you are with guns, but you sure smoke a lot." She pressed on my bruise harder, and I cringed.

  "I'm good with guns – it's weird you've never seen that," I answered.

  She laughed. "I think this is the first time that we've talked this much. You always avoid me," she commented, meeting my eyes.

  A little bit drunk, I was cursing myself for not noticing her sooner. Isabel was older and sexy, and she had a French accent. Why had I kept my distance again? Because my father had to marry her? And when has he ever cared about me, and why do I have to respect the relationship left only to its name?

  "I'm really questioning myself, trust me," I joked once more, and she shook her head slightly.

  "This is going to hurt." Isabel dabbed on my lip a little harder, and it felt as if she did that on purpose. On instinct, I grabbed Isabel’s wrist, causing a little gasp to leave her lips.

  "Did I hurt you?" she asked.

  I shrugged and pulled her closer to me. Isabel didn't hesitate; I could tell she wanted this. I would never have done this, but I've been doing a lot of unacceptable shit now. And I like it.

  "You think that's gonna hurt me?" I asked. I pulled the cotton out of her hand, still holding her wrist. Isabel didn't respond, so I did what I wanted to do – what she was here for in the first place.

  I kissed her.

  Isabel was quick to respond, grabbing my hand as I pulled her on top of me. My hands went up to her hair as I yanked it out of the bun.

  "That doesn't look good on you," I told her, and she giggled against my lips.

  "Shut up," Isabel whispered before pushing me back.

  "This is a bad idea," I hummed in response as I pulled the nightgown off of her.

  "Does it look like I care?"

  Frankly, I didn't either. All of this was happening only because I didn't care.

  *****

  By the time I had gotten up the next morning, Isabel was gone. I was glad that I did not have to go through another awkward post-hookup.

  Yeah, especially since you just fucked your father's wife, a part of my brain chided.