A Debt Paid (20 page)

Calix was once again working in his
home office, still refusing to go to work and
leave Anya. He was finishing up some
contract papers on an important
investment deal that if he could pull it off,
would change his financial status from a
millionaire to a billionaire. As he continued
to work, he could hear the pounding bass
music from some hip hop song that Anya
was listening to as she picked up and
cleaned the penthouse. Even with his oak
office door firmly shut tight the thud, thud,
thud of the music came through crystal
clear.

He’d told her that she didn’t need to
clean, that they could just continue using
his regular cleaning service, but she had
been adamant about doing it. Now that she
was no longer working and healed from
her injuries, she said that she needed
something to do until they moved into the
new house. Then she would have
everything to do, decorating the baby’s
room when they found out what they were
having and picking out paint colors for the
house and furniture. She even wanted to
try to plant a vegetable garden in the
backyard.

Anya was getting extremely
frustrated, Calix and their mothers only
allowed her to do so much. So, he relented
on the cleaning. She wasn’t even allowed to
help in planning their wedding that had
been rescheduled to take place in just two
short weeks. Their mothers had firmly
taken over the task and kept saying to them
both that they would do and handle
everything. All Anya and he had to do was
show up on time and smile.

Calix laughed to himself as he
remembered that conversation. Anya was
not happy and pouted like she was five
years old, which he had thought was one of
the most adorable faces he had ever seen
her make. Apparently, after Anya told her
mother that she was going back home to
him, their mothers had started conspiring
together while they were still in Italy about
having the wedding there on the original
wedding date, but that was before that
tragic night happened. They insisted that
they still had everything worked out and in
place, and that all that was needed to do,
besides tweaking little things here and
there, was to change the wedding date. It
was set in stone and final, they would be
getting married in Italy, and their mothers
would broker no refusal from either of
them.

The only concession they gave Anya
was her wedding dress. Which had to be
changed just a little, because of the small
baby bump that was starting to show. Their
little bean was growing fast. The dress also
needed to accommodate Anya’s fuller
chest. That was something that Calix was
enjoying immensely, not that he wasn’t
satisfied with her breast before she was
pregnant. It was just that now she was so
very sensitive, and he could make her come
by simply sucking, pinching, and playing
with her nipples. He got so much
satisfaction when he made her come over
and over again until she was fully spent
and completely sated. Watching her as she
would barely have any energy left after
coming so much to curl up next to him in
bed and falling asleep instantly as her head
hit the pillow, brought him great
enjoyment. Her appetite for sex had
increased exponentially, and she was so
horny that she would constantly be
crawling on top of him wherever he was
and no matter what he was doing; taking
what she wanted day or night. Not that he
was complaining. He loved the feeling of
being submerged deep inside her tight, wet
warmth, being connected to her in a way
no other man ever had or ever would.

At night, he simply lay next to her
and caress her softly as he watched her
sleep so at peace, counting his blessings
that he still had her, still had the baby, that
they were both healthy and that she loved
him just as strongly and passionately as he
loved her. He promised himself he would
never fail to protect her or their child
again; he wouldn’t survive losing her. Calix
was so totally caught up in his thoughts of
Anya, he had stopped working. He just sat
there staring into nothing when his
personal cell phone began to vibrate and
ring on the side of his desk, breaking his
reverie. Looking down at the caller ID, he
saw that it was his Uncle Vito calling.

“Tutto e’ copiuto (It is finished).”
Came the absolute sounding words from
Vito’s gruff voice.

“Zio?” His uncle was clipped, and
Calix didn’t know what Vito was talking
about.

“Lei è sicuro, parleremo di questo
non più (She is safe, we will speak of this
no more). Capisce?”

And just like that Calix, knew what
his uncle was talking about. He had found
him—their attacker—just as Vito promised
he would. Vito never failed to come
through on his promises. Calix took a slow,
deep, steadying breath before he asked his
uncle the most important question. “Was
Richards involved?”

“I’ll handle it, ciao.” Was all Vito had
said before ending their conversation by
hanging up on Calix.

With his uncle giving him a nonanswer, Calix knew without a doubt that
Richards had in fact been a part of it. That
he had to have even been the one to
orchestrate it. No one else would want to
hurt them or get revenge on them, on him,
so absolutely. His stomach rolled with
disgust, and he tasted bile in his mouth just
thinking of how a man could be as cold and
heartless as to have something so violent
like that done to his own child, his flesh and
blood, a life he had helped to create.

As he sat thinking over everything,
he knew that he should tell Anya; she was
the one who had suffered the worst, and
she had a right to know. He just couldn’t, he
couldn’t hurt her by telling her the ugly
truth. Yes, she hated the man her father
had become, but, deep down, she still had
some inkling of affection for him. All
children did for their parents, and to hear
that her own father had most likely
planned and paid for her attempted
murder and, such a brutal one at that,
would kill her. No, he would keep this to
himself. No one else knew except for his
uncle, and he would never tell.

As Calix continued to think over the
situation, he wondered when his Uncle Vito
would turn the bastard over to the police.
Then he thought back to that night, the
worst night of his life, the one that still
haunted him even after all these weeks. He
tried to remember everything he heard the
police saying. They had found absolutely no
trace evidence of any kind; no fibers, hairs,
fingerprints, footprints, evidence of forced
entry, video surveillance, nothing. It was as
if it had been a ghost, a dark specter, who
had attacked them, because the evidence
showed that no one else could have ever
set foot in their penthouse and not left
behind something.

The only evidence that the police
had to go on was Calix’s blood test results.
Showing them that someone had drugged
him and Anya, proving that someone had
been there that night. So, if the police had
no evidence, how his uncle would tie that
bastard to the crime he didn’t know, he
couldn’t Calix thought. As the realization of
that truth hit him, Calix began to slowly
seethe with anger at the thought that there
would be no justice for him and Anya. And
there was nothing to prove that Richards
was a part of it. Vito couldn’t very well
march with that asshole into the police
station and say, “Hey, my underworld
contacts found out about this guy and that
he was the one who attacked Calix and
Anya.” No, that fucker would get away with
it, because they had no proof that would
hold up in court. He would have to confess
to be arrested and tried, and Calix knew
that wouldn’t be happening any time soon.
His uncle must have known this as well.
Vito Anastas was not a stupid man.

The voice of anchorwomen from the
local news that they had watched last night
before Anya’s movie, which he had actually
laughed at and enjoyed, popped into his
ever racing thoughts.

‘
Police are asking for help from
anyone who may have any information on
the discovery of a gruesome murder
tonight…an unidentified, white male…thirty
to forty years of age…beaten and stabbed to
death…evidence of torture at the scene.’

Vito did know and understand that
there was no way to tie that bastard to the
crime. He knew with no viable proof, the
police would not be able to do anything,
and that they would get no justice, at least
not legally. So, he had taken care of the
situation, giving them some kind of justice
after all. Anya was safe. His uncle was right
it was finished.

Anya sat on the back porch of their
new home, swinging on one of the many
terrace porch swings as Elayna, her five
month old daughter, nursed. Just staring
into the vast expanse of their yard as she
swung. Yard was a modest description;
they had more than three gardeners to
keep up the grounds. Calix, of course,
having purchased a home that could not
only house them and any future children
they may have but also his mother, her
mother, and his uncle with a couple of his
security guards.

Anya was having trouble
understanding why she was still so upset,
she hated the man after all didn’t she? It
had been ten days since the shocking news
of her father’s death. The news stations had
even known before her and her mother.
After having been tried in a court of law,
convicted by a group of his peers, and
sentenced by a judge for more charges than
even Calix had thought possible, Tomas
Richards would be spending what was
most likely the rest of his life in federal
prison.

He was, however, sent to what was
loosely nicknamed a ‘white collar’ prison.
Supposedly, one that had low inmate
violent crime rates. He didn’t even have a
cellmate. He had the whole cell to himself, a
perk to have in such a densely populated
prison system. That’s one of the reasons
why the news of his death and how he died
was so shocking. Sometime in the middle of
the night, when all the inmates were
supposed to be locked in their cells, her
father had been violently sodomized,
beaten, and stabbed to death. He was left
lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor
with his pants around his ankles. The killer
not even covering up her father’s
nakedness after sexually assaulting him.
And that was how they found him the
following morning. No one was able to
figure out how it happened. The guards
testified that they saw and heard nothing.
The other inmates in his block also testified
that they heard nothing, as well. And,
mysteriously enough, video surveillance in
that cell block malfunctioned.

Calix found Anya staring at nothing
as she slowly rocked and nursed their
daughter. Slowly, he made his way over to
her and sat down next to her on the swing.
He gently stroked one finger down his
daughter’s cheek while she was still latched
onto Anya’s breast as she greedily ate.
Their daughter was a very healthy eater.
One would only need to look at Anya’s
voluminous full breasts to know how much
their daughter ate.

His voice was calm and gentle as he
playfully accosted his daughter. “Hey,
greedy girl, save some for me, they were
mine before they were yours.”

Anya couldn’t help but giggle at
Calix’s words. Calix was happy to have had
brought a smile to his wife’s face, but he
knew that she needed to talk.

In a more somber voice he asked,
“Thinking about your father again?” Calix
knew why those things had happened to
Richards. In one word—justice. Though his
uncle had never admitted to anything, he
had told Calix some time ago that things
had been handled and to think no more of
it.

Anya looked to Calix and nodded a
yes. “I hated him, he was a horrible man.
So, why do I feel so sorry for him and hurt
at the loss?”

“Because, love, you are a good
person. Your heart is full of nothing but
love. And, though you hated the man he
had become, you still had some good
memories of the man he was. I love you.”
Calix wrapped an arm around Anya’s
shoulders while placing comforting kiss
atop her head.

She then laid her head on his
shoulder and returned his show of
affection. “As I love you, Calix.”

He would continue to comfort her as
long as she needed it. He was right in not
telling her the truth; it would have hurt her
too much. She was too kind of a soul to
handle such heart withering information,
and Calix was going to make sure she was
never hurt again. He would love her
always, protect her always, and he
dedicated his life to her happiness and
never brought up the ugliness of that night
or her father again. He did, however, in his
thoughts, thank Richards just once for his
debt paid.

With his right hand Eric took hold
of her hair pulling it to the side so he
could have access to her neck.

“Your hair is so soft.” He crooned
as he pushed it away. “And you smell
sweet. What is it?” Sara’s breaths began
to quicken
and
with
the feel of
him
behind her stroking her hair, her nipples
began to harden into tight peaks.

“It’s Victoria’s Secret Pear body
spray.” She replied in a soft breathy
voice.

“Mmmmmmm I like it.” He said as
he wrapped his arm around her placing
his hand flat on her stomach, pulling her
back flush up against him so she could
feel the hard length of him as he planted
generous kisses down from the bottom
of her ear to the bottom of her exposed
neck.

As Eric pulled her against him she
immediately felt his hard arousal in the
middle of her back, her body grew hot
and her panties dampened as she began
to feel the kisses along her neck. She
sighed as her body instinctually folded
into his. She found herself leaning her
head to the side to give him better access.

Being Eric’s best man meant a lot
to Gio, he just didn’t like that he was
going to be saddled with Jo Ann most of
the night because she was Sara’s maid of
honor. They had to walk down the aisle
together, sat next to each other at dinner
and for photos. He just didn’t like it;
there was something about Jo Ann that
had
his
internal
sensors
screaming
DANGER, DANGER! Ever since that Friday
night
when
they
had
all
gone
out
together things were just
different. It
drove
him
crazy
thinking
that
she
thought he was a lying bastard. Why? He
didn’t know, never cared before. All he
knew was he just need to stay away.