Married to the Bad Boy(67)
The evening drags on. They clink their silverware against glasses and I bring Elena’s burning face in for a quick kiss to appease the assholes. I see all the attention wearing on her. She smiles at me, but there’s a tinge of fear trembling her lips. Or maybe she’s just overwhelmed.
This isn’t what I wanted either.
Tommy joins us at the table, dressed in a dark charcoal suit and wearing a smile on his slick face. “Hey, guys. Congratulations,” he says in a sarcastic voice. “Biggest scam anyone’s ever pulled.”
The big glass of wine in his hands sways dangerously. He looks unconcerned when I rise to my feet.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Why should I? Doing this behind the boss’s back is really fucked up.”
“Tommy, you promised.”
He glares at her. “I didn’t promise to keep this from John. You shouldn’t have put me in this position.”
Heat builds up in my chest. “I didn’t take any of her money, so you have nothing to worry about. As far as you’re concerned, it’s real.”
Not believing me, Tommy smiles.
“Don’t be a fucking jerk, Tommy.”
“I just got to Montreal. I really doubt the boss will make me a member when he finds out I kept this from him. I know the baby isn’t real—this whole marriage isn’t real. The fucking money you’re going to collect from everyone, the gifts—you don’t think this is wrong?”
Fucking New York piece of shit asshole.
I don’t like the way he looks at her. My teeth grind together, and I imagine smashing my fist against that fuckhead’s jaw. Condescending prick.
“Mind your own goddamn business.”
“She made it my fucking business when she asked me for help.”
He’s unyielding, like many guys in the life. He doesn’t make a move unless there’s something in it for him.
“I’m made. You’re not. It’s my word against yours, asshole.”
He doesn’t even blink. “It won’t be when I show him that bag of cash.”
I shove his chest in a sudden rush of rage. “Maybe I’ll just put a bullet in your fucking head.”
“Tony!” She makes a grab for my arm, but I pull it out of her reach.
Tommy seethes with cool anger as he takes another sip of his drink. I ball my hands into fists, waiting for him to hit me back, to give me an excuse to beat the shit out of him.
Instead that dead-eyed fuck grins at me. “Enjoy your night.”
Asshole.
He backs away and I watch him slink back to his table. Elena sits back down painfully, as if there are pins in her seat. I sit down next to her and slide my arm over her shoulder, still simmering with anger.
“Hey, don’t worry about him. He’s just drunk.”
“He looked pretty sober to me.”
“Forget about it.”
She shakes her head, looking troubled by his encounter.
Through the DJ’s music, there’s a loud crash and a bang. It’s probably a waiter who dropped something, but I still raise my head in search of the noise. A drunken man stumbles into the room, hair swinging around his face. I recognize that puke-stain from his heavy Brooklyn accent.
Motherfucker.
“Where the fuck is she? No, don’t fucking—don’t touch me!”
Elena stiffens like a board when his voice carries over the music, and her face blanches.
“Stay here. I’ll take care of this.”
I massage my fists as I get up and stride toward Rafael, who stumbles from table to table. The guys all turn around in their seats to watch him, cruel sneers on their faces. Even I’ve never seen something so pathetic in my life.
“You better only be here to congratulate me.”
My sudden voice next to his ear startles him. The guy looks like shit, and he smells like it, too. It’s like he bathed in bourbon before throwing on his wrinkled suit. His hostile face turns right toward me.
“Where the fuck is she?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.” I enjoy needling this asshole.
His face contorts with rage. “My fucking girl—she’s carrying my kid.”
There’s something about him that just makes me want to punch his goddamn face in, or maybe it’s the arrogant, cutting tone. The way he fucking looks at me.
He screams at me. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You think that because you put your cock inside her a few times, that makes her yours?”
Dipshit takes his jacket off, hurling it on the floor as he rolls up his sleeves.
He rolls up his sleeves.
Cute.
I could take this guy in one move. As far as I’m concerned, it’s not a fair fight.
“You fucked my girl—!”