Chapter 4 - Wyatt Hayes

Wyatt POV

The dinner party Sandrine put me through with her family wasn’t enough to show New York’s society that we are engaged apparently, so here I am, sitting in my car as I look at the entrance of the extravagant event Sandrine arranged. “Darling, we’re very important people, and the society needs to know we will be married soon, maybe a spring wedding?” I remember her words as we walked into the dinner event two weeks ago.

Agreeing to this has more to do with the business deal I will be making than anything else. If I want to take over her father’s business and his place as head of the Italian mob, I have to put up with this shit. I take a deep breath as I rest my forehead against the steering wheel.

A knock on the window makes me frown as I look out to find Dash and Jagger staring at me. They look so much alike, it’s absolutely stupid. They even have the same haircut. Apparently, messing up with people is their main thing. They like that no one can tell them apart except for me. I’d do the easiest thing ever.

“Are you coming? Or are we out of here?” Jagger asks, and I shake my head, opening the door and getting out of the car. Even though all I want to do is tell everyone to fuck off and go home, I have to go in there and pretend to be involved with someone I despise. I need to put up a show.

“Let’s go,” I say as I walk past my two best friends into the venue. I have to give it to Sandrine. She did a good thing here. The entire place looks like someone puked flowers all over. I pinch the bridge of my nose as I look around and people whisper as I walk past.

I shake some hands and smile politely while my friends keep their serious posture next to me. Of the three of us, Jagger is the most serious one. He is always moody, and it feels like he was born upside down. Dash is charming and the women love him. He is goofy and touchy. I am somewhat more like Jagger.

I like quiet and I like things done my way. I hate people getting in the way of my things and when someone fucks up; I lose my shit. Maybe because of the way I was raised. Failure was never allowed, and it’s not a word I use very often. Failure is not a possibility.

“Darling, I thought you were not coming,” I heard Sandrine say as I approached her and kissed her cheek very lightly. “Daddy. Look Wyatt is here,” she says as she holds my hand and pulls me through the sea of people that is surrounding her father. And there he is. Lorenzo Parisi, the man I hate almost as much as I hated my father.

“Wyatt, my boy, how good to see you. We thought you were not coming... Hummm,” he says as he wraps one arm around my shoulders and guides me away from his daughter without even glancing at her. I might not like her, but the way he treats his own daughter is disgusting. The man has no respect for women and I have seen him on more than one occasion caressing and touching other women that are not his wife.

“Two whiskeys,” he says to the barman who nods immediately, stopping the drinks he was pouring to make ours. The man really is feared, but because he is not careful, everyone knows who he is, even the police, but he has most politics and judges on his payroll.

What can I say? I have some as well, maybe the same ones he does, but I want to take him down. I want him to suffer for the last bad deals he made my grandfather sign before I came back from England.

“To us, and to this deal,” he says as he passes me my drink and I decide to provoke him a little. What is life without a minor risk?

“To Sandrine,” I say and he looks at me with his mouth open and then he shakes his head.

“No, no no, we don’t cheer to women, unless is a woman that is warming up our bed, or a woman that is on her knees,” he says as he chuckles his thick Italian accent almost disappearing making me frown.

“She will be warming up my bed,” I say, raising my glass and then taking it to my lips. The man’s face is bright red, and he makes me spill my drink down my suit when he grabs my collar, pulling me closer to him. I have to give it to him. The man has balls.

“It’s my daughter you’re talking about, boy,” he says, and I wrap my fingers around his wrist, placing my fingers in the correct position to easily remove his hand from me. I take one step closer to him, locking my eyes to his.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” I say and his eyes flash something and then he smiles and chuckles as I let go of his wrist and the surprise disappears from his face. He moves his hand up and down my chest as if trying to erase the marks he felt on my crisp shirt.

“Today is a celebration. Let’s have some fun.” He says as he walks away from me and smacks one of the waitress’s ass. She jumps in surprise and then I see the anger plastered on her face but he smiles and then places two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes as he says something. She nods slightly as she swallows hard. Then she walks past me with tears in her eyes.

The man is absolutely disgusting, and I know that no woman in her right mind would have sex with him, he has greasy hair pulled to the side covering his bald patch on the top of his head, his mustache has seen better days, and his enormous stomach flaps over his pants leaving a small gap between the buttons showing his skin.

I feel like I am going to be sick just watching him. I might not have women as a priority, but I never forced myself onto anyone and consent is a big thing. I might be a criminal, but sex crime, women, and children are not up for negotiations. I would never rape anyone or sell a woman.

I do have a couple of strip clubs, but every woman who works for me is offered the same deals as everyone who works at Hayes Enterprises. Health insurance, regular checkups, good pay, no sex allowed at work, and they know if anyone tries to touch them, the security will intervene and keep them safe. Their real names are not used, and they are encouraged to keep their real identity hidden, wearing wigs and costumes.

I might be a killer, but I am not a monster. Well, I kind of am, but not to women. My mother taught me right, how to respect women and how to treat them right, how without them there’s no more life, and how we can’t keep going as a humankind if women decide we are all monsters not worth of their time.

“That dude is trash,” Dash says and I nod in agreement as I slam my empty glass on the bar, raising my hand for a refill. I watch as Dash's eye fucks one of the waitresses and Jagger shakes his head, smacking his hand on the back of his twin brother’s head.

“Hey, what was that for?” Dash asks as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck as if in pain.

“Today is not the day to be fucking around Romeo,” he says, and Dash rolls his eyes as he turns and faces me, resting his elbow on the bar.

“Okay, so are you really marrying the princess?” He asks as he nods his head in Sandrine’s direction. She is talking to some woman. She is shorter than Sandrine, and I have no clue who she is. As I honestly have no idea who half of the people here are.

“Yeah, I have to,” I say, and Jagger takes a deep breath before he empties his tumbler, shaking his head once more. He doesn’t think I need to do this. He keeps thinking we have enough moles inside the Italian Mafia to take them down from the inside without having to marry Sandrine.

The only good thing I get from this marriage is to take over his power and then watch as I destroy everything he built. I want to ruin him, make him suffer, take all his money, and have him begging for his life while I watch him defecate himself in a cell somewhere.

“You know what I think,” he says and as he moves his eyes to his brother, I can see the annoyance in them. Dash is watching the girl talking to Sandrine.

“Who’s that?” Dash asks as he smacks my arm and I shrug. I will never be able to recognize and know the names of all the girls Sandrine surrounds herself with. Besides, I don’t really care to know who they are. I know everyone surrounding her has been checked and approved by her father, so why would I do the same? The man is paranoid. But his paranoia is not reaching me.

I know he went looking into my life and he only found what I allowed him to do. Everything I feed the press and everyone in the elite society I move into. He thinks I am just a self-made billionaire with a superiority complex who is so greedy that he doesn’t care about the risks he’s taking.

"She's hot," Dash says and I roll my eyes as I raise my glass from the bar, and when I look at the girl I almost choke on my drink.

"What the fuck," I let out and both Dash and Jagger look at me as I slam my glass back on the bar straightening my back and looking at them waiting for an answer, but they both look at me as if I am the crazy one. 

"What the fuck is SHE doing here?" I ask and they look at each other doing their fucking twin thing and then look at me. Jagger frowns as he looks at her and then his mouth opens and closes almost straight away. Yeah, that's what I thought. they have no clue how she got here and why she is here. Fuck. this is the closest she has managed to get near me, and I don't like it.