Page 34 of His Lair
I pocket my phone and turn my attention back to the woman in front of me. As much as I want to look back at Lailani, I can’t. If my mother gets a sense that I like someone, there’s no telling what crazy shit she’ll do. I could drag her out of here, but then she’d wonder why I was making a scene. There’s also the fact that I don’t want to leave Lailani behind.
“How much?” I ask my mother.
“How much of what?” she huffs, as if the reason she’s here isn’t for money.
“How much do you want? Let’s not play stupid, Ma. We both know you’re only here because you’ve run out of cash again,” I tell her. I turn towards the bar and hold up a hand, signaling for the bartender to get me a drink.
“I came to see you, Sammie. That’s all,” she says. “Thought I’d stick around a bit.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my son and I’m not getting any younger,” she tells me. When the bartender brings me a glass filled with amber liquid, my mother leans over the counter. “I’ll have a martini, dirty.”
He looks to me and I give him a slight nod.
“I’m pretty sure you’ve still got plenty of years to continue torturing my existence,” I grunt. She’s not fucking old. My mother had me when she was fifteen. A fact I heard about over and over again when I was a child.
She used to say that she could have given me up, that she could have had an abortion but she kept me because she loved methat much. The woman is the queen of manipulation. She had me believe she was the only person on earth who could love me. No one would love me as much as she did. The worst part? In her head, it’s the truth.
“Well, I’m not due for the nursing home just yet, but I noticed two more wrinkles yesterday,” she says.
Her face is perfectly free of wrinkles, probably thanks to the Botox or whatever other fucking bullshit I pay for. My mom has always been an addict. The functioning kind. Always worked, always made sure I was fed and clothed. That is until I started making enough money she didn’t need to work anymore.
I don’t care about giving her money. It’s the mind games that have me not wanting to be around her. Things just run more smoothly when she’s not here. Last time she “dropped in,” I killed two of my men because she led me to believe they attacked her,rapedher.
It wasn’t until Louie had combed through all the CCTV footage that I found out she got busted up during a fight she picked with afemalepatron at the bar. The men she accused, the ones I had already killed, were nowhere near her that night.
It’s always something. It’s as if she’s testing me to see just how far I’ll go for her. How much I’ll put her above anyone else. Truth is, I always do. She’s my mother. What else am I supposed to do?
Which is why I need to make sure Lailani stays well and truly off her fucking radar. I don’t want my mother making me choose between them. I know this thing with Lailani is nothing serious, but I fucking like it. And I’m not anywhere near ready to give it up.
I breathe a sigh of relief when Emmanuel walks in. That relief quickly dissipates when I notice whose hand he is clasping tightly. Evie. Why the fuck did he bring her with him?
“Fancy seeing your ugly mug here,” Emmanuel greets me. “Ms. Russo, I had no idea you were in town. It’s been a long time.” He hugs my mother, and I watch in disgust as she presses herself against him.
Emmanuel doesn’t let go of Evie’s hand and pulls away quickly. My mother runs her eyes up and down Evie’s frame, asif she’s just found her next victim for the night. “And who is this beauty?” she asks.
“This is Evie,” Emmanuel replies. “I was about to take her home. I just bought a new house close by. You want to come and see it?”
I take the opportunity to look back out towards the dance floor. She’s not there. But when I search the bar area, I find her at the end of the counter, her gaze still fixed on me.
Emmanuel curses under his breath. When I turn my eyes back to him, I see him looking in the same direction. “I gotta use the restroom. Finish your drink, Ms. Russo. I think you’re going to love my new house.”
“I have a room here,” my mother tells him.
“You’d rather stay in this cesspool than the comforts of my home?” Emmanuel questions her. “Now, I’m offended.”
“Well, okay. Just for one night. I do need to grab some things, though. I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” my mother tells him, downing her drink before getting up off the barstool. She turns to me, leans in, and kisses my cheek. “Sammie, we will continue this chat.” Then she walks off.
“I’ll be right back,” Emmanuel says, dropping Evie’s hand. “You want a drink?”
She doesn’t say anything, just shakes her head. Emmanuel gestures an arm in the air and five of his soldiers step up closer.
“New friends?” I ask Evie as we watch Emmanuel approach the bar.
“Something like that,” she says. “So, that’s your mother? Did she have you when she was ten?”
“Close, fifteen,” I tell her. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I didn’t know E had, ah, company.”
