Page 44 of Bloodlust

"Okay," I say, and he hangs up. I gather my wit before heading back inside. "Zoey, I need you to schedule a meeting with Alba for tomorrow night. Tell him to meet me at S&R. I want home-field advantage."

"What're you going to do, Mils?" Leo perks an eyebrow. "Apologize?"

"No." I hold my head up high. "He is."

Where the fuck are you?

Strobe lights dance around the club as I stare at the front door, my chest vibrating from the carnal beat of the bass drum. I inhale, the scent of sweat and sex and success expanding my lungs.

"Better late than never," I whisper to myself as the doors open and Alba's thick frame enters my kingdom.We're in my house now. And the house always wins. I nod at the nearby waitress, and she scurries off to the bar. No mistakes this time. I stand up and circle the black leather booth, smiling as Alba approaches. Alone this time. "Thanks for coming, Malik. I appreciate it."

"You should." He gives me a greedy once-over, his eyes lingering on my breasts. Drool nearly gushes from the corner of his mouth. He grins up at me. "I am not usually a forgiving man, but for you, dear Camilla, I make an exception."

"Unfortunately, I am not an apologetic woman." I gesture for him to take a seat. "I hope that's not why you're here."

"Your assistant said you wanted to talk." Malik sits down, rotating his body toward me, the purple lights like stripes across his face. "I thought perhaps you felt bad about your recklessness the other night."

"On the contrary." I expel a sensuous chuckle as I flip my hair to one side. "It's your recklessness that needs to be addressed, not mine." A voluptuous server with star pasties on her nipples circles the table and sets down two drinks. I give her a wink. "Thanks, Bunny." I glance over at Alba. He licks his lips as Bunny walks away. "Like what you see?"

"That ass was made to be fucked," Malik grunts, adjusting his pants as he looks at me. "Smart woman, you are, bringing me to a place where my dick does the talking." He clicks his tongue. "I should've known better."

"Let's be real, I could've brought you to a McDonald's and your dick wouldstillbe doing the talking." Itake a sip of vodka. "There's a muzzle for that, you know."

His eyes widen. "Are you here to castrate me, Miss Bianco?"

I give him a light shrug. "Depends."

A frown mars his brows. "On what?"

"On whether your dick knows what's good for it or not." I motion around the club. "There are twelve armed men scattered around these two floors. That's twenty-four guns." I point to the front door. "If you step outside, there are five more men. Ten more guns." I harden my features as I meet his startled expression. Good. "Every three blocks, regardless of direction—east, south, north, west, you'll be met with more men. More men and more guns." I pause, taking another sip. "Now the thing with these men—" I chuckle, "—unlikeyours, is that they don't act unless ordered. Unlikeyourmen, mine don't...improvise." I tilt my head. "Are you following?"

Malik swallows. "Sayid is a fool. He will be dealt with."

I blink. "Who?"

"The man who you..." he trails off, chugging his whiskey.

"Oh, the man I disciplined on your behalf? Of course." The troll has a name. "You see, Malik, after that unfortunate incident, I was ready to cut ties with you and your organization, but just like you, I, too, can be forgiving at times."

Malik's silent for a moment, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. "It is not my choice," he mumbles, unable to look at me. "I cannot?—"

"Speak up," I demand. "Can't hear you."

"It is not my choice alone," he says again, louder this time. He swallows hard. "We are a democracy, and my men... They do not want to shake hands with a woman. They do not want to shake hands withyou."

I scoff. "You're the boss, Mailk. Make them."

"I am only the face, dear Camilla," he says lowly. "It does not work like that."

"Make it work," I whisper, placing my hand over his. It's trembling. What a bitch. He looks up at me, and I add, "Or I will activateallmy soldiers, and you won't have a face left to show."

"They think you are volatile," he mutters, licking his lips. "Perhaps if..."

"If what?" I ask in a threatening coo, stroking the back of his hand. "If what, Malik?"

"I believe my men would be more inclined to shake your hand..." He glances down. "If there were a ring on it. A symbol of stability."

I scoff. "I'm not going to marry you, Malik. One pussy's enough for me."

---