Page 75 of The Boss
“Zeno! You didn’t say hello, you asshole!” He gives her a quizzical look before they hug so she adds, “Oh yeah, I gave up. They all know the real me now. Sucks for them.” She pulls out of the embrace and punches her cousin in the arm. Hard.
“Damn, ow!” He replies, “Sorry, your man pulled me inside the second we got here.”
She barely looks at me then back at him and goes on, “You look bigger, is this new?” She pinches at his sleeve, “I like it.”
“You always told me it’s suits or nothing, so I got a new one for this.”
“Nice.”
She then smiles and jokes with all his guys. Only two men are her actual cousins, all of them are her admirers. That’s for fucking sure.
My blood is boiling by the time she’s completed the small circle.
And I’m suddenly itchy in my leather jacket.
What did he mean suits only? She wants me in a suit? Do I own any nice suits?
Wait, why the fuck do I care! Focus, man!
“Zeno, Mac, let’s go talk about tomorrow.” I turn and yell, “Finn!”
He appears. I look around at Zeno’s guys and a few of my top soldiers who’re going to be teamed up with them for the next few weeks. “Finn here is our most recent fuckup. He’s your little bitch for the evening, in charge of getting you whatever you want for the night. And I do mean whatever you want.”
Cheers erupt around me.
I glance at Luna and see it, the second of confusion and maybe fear, before she puts her mask back on, her armor. She’s so damn gorgeous. And she’s wondering now if the rumors are true. They are.
We’re made men. We drink. A lot. I let the men get high and I let the women who want to participate… participate. This is the life we live in the mafia. There has to be a release from the constant threat of death day in and day out.
What I really want to know is how she’ll respond.
Wait. I should probably…
“Luna,” I say, taking a few steps into her space. Her tits brush against me which I can see through the holes in the damn dress. I use all of my might to pull my eyes up to her face. “Drinking is fine. Smoking is fine. No lines. No sex.”
“Um,” she doesn’t back up, lifts her chin to go toe to toe with me. “How about I do whatever I want like we both know I’m going to do?”
I reach out and grab her, squeezing her hips in my palms. Not hard, just notnothard.
“What if I ask nicely?” I try.
She leans up and, smelling like heaven itself, I imagine, I’ll never know since I’m not headed there, whispers, “Take my virginity.”
“No,” I say, because if I say anything other than that one syllable, my voice will reveal me as the desperate man I am.
She shrugs and tilts her chin in that dismissive, queenly way that I love, “Those are my terms.”
I inhale through my nose and decide to go for a jab instead, anything to keep from caving, “I did hear your wrist has been hurting.”
Her eyes blow wide, “I knew it! I knew you were listening! How! How if this whole place is stuck in the 1950s?”
“Surveillance is reviewed and recorded off site.”
Why are you telling her your secrets! Shut up! Walk away!
“And did you tell your men to get their shit together in the garage? Because one of those morons is going to get you all killed.”
I narrow my eyes at her. She must not realize she’s doing it. Helping me. Or she can’t stop herself. I know she wants me physically. I know she respects me. I know she feels…something. I just don’t know if I’ll ever be able to truly trust her.
