Page 10 of Unbound

She’d tried to bait me a couple times lately, like she’d done right after we got married, but I didn’t let myself play since getting the news that she was carrying my baby. And it pissed her off a little, but I’d snap her out of it by kissing her belly and reminding her that she didn’t want my hunger going over the edge like it’d done in Costa Rica. And that’d get her sweet and dewy-eyed.

Costa Rica had frightened us both to the degree that I was now planning to use my association with Fete to learn how to be what Tia needed without putting her at any risk.

I’d broached the subject with Johnny, who was inthe life/the scene24/7 with his wife Kate. I phoned him from Costa Rica after a particularly rough time and at first, he was cocky, telling me he was glad I was gonna stop being a punk about it. I hung up on him.

Of course, I didn’t like hearing that, but I had to get over my shit. So, I hit my heavy bag for forty minutes and then called him back.

We’ve had a few good conversations and he’d recommended some reading material. He later told me he’d give me some advice for play during pregnancy, too.

He and his wife, having had six kids, meant he’d had plenty of experience playing with her safely but effectively while pregnant.

Today, we weren’t gonna talk about that private shit, though. And John was a good guy who wouldn’t ever bring it up unless I did first.

I answered his questioning chin jerk about Denarda.

“He had some shitheads rough up a bookie buddy of ours. Guy’s broken away, good terms, but it’s recent and Denarda didn’t know that.”

Killian was a good guy and he and Dare were tight. We were not happy when this happened. It happened after Dare’s wedding. Kill and his new girlfriend had gotten swarmed on his way home from the reception.

“Shit.” Johnny shook his head.

“Yeah, bunch of expensive supplies vanished from a construction site of ours in Portland yesterday, including a large quantity of some very fucking pricy copper wire. Someone saw three white cargo vans leave early. No one local would pull thatshit at that level, knowing it was our site. Security guards on the job site got roughed up and held at gunpoint.”

“Shit,” Johnny said.

“Yeah. Our logo was all over the place. We suspect he orchestrated it because not only was he in the vicinity, not tryin’ to hide it, but my top security guy just notified me that someone matching his description fucked our family restaurant, Venetia, for a $1930 tab the night before, shit load of expensive wine and top shelf booze and a pile of the most expensive food on the menu. Guy matching Denarda’s description walked out.”

“Call the cops?”

“Yeah, restaurant manager did. Found out he bought a first-class ticket the day before yesterday to my city, returning to Vegas this morning. He was on the flight I missed, so if my wife wasn’t pukin’ her guts out when I was supposed to leave, we’d have been on that plane together. That was no coincidence. That sleazy little fucker wanted me to set eyes on his ugly mug and be stuck lookin’ at it for two hours.”

Johnny added, “Leo was shunned at the door of a big game I was at last week and didn’t react. Or didn’t seem to react.”

John topped up both our glasses with Scotch. He told the server to leave the bottle. She’d tried to give me ‘fuck me’ eyes, but I ignored her. It wasn’t hard. Women coming onto me wasn’t new but as always, I’d never been led around by my dick. The only woman who had the capability to do that was my wife and it wasn’t her style – probably part of why she had that ability.

John, however, had stared at that server’s ass and legs in tiny black booty shorts as she strutted away.

“We’ll talk more later,” I said, “not in front of Goldberg.” I jerked my chin toward Ben Goldberg, who was approaching our table.

Goldberg strolled up to us and sat with a sigh.

“Her seams are crooked, Benny-boy,” Johnny said, the cigar in between his teeth, gesturing to our server, who was still strutting away.

Ben looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “Standards.”

He pulled his phone out of the inside breast pocket of his suit, dialed, and then barked, “Get Lily straightened up. Her seams are a mess.” He hung up.

“Fete needs to be pristine,” Johnny said.

“Agreed.” Ben reached for the bottle, filled a glass and leaned in. “I got a scene for that. Master flogs his sub for crooked seams. After she takes her punishment, the scene ends with a flash forward to her the following day, purposely pushing those seams askew when he’s ready to inspect.”

“Niiiiice…” Johnny drawled and then looked at me. “This guy. Some got an app for that. Benny’s got a scene for that.”

Ben Goldberg was a perverted fucker, for sure. He looked as straight-laced missionary-style as they came. But he wasn’t. Not by a longshot.

“Leo Denarda called me this morning. Demanded a meeting tonight,” Ben switched gears, looking to me. “Recommended you attend.”

“Recommended?”

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