She gets me. She understands my lifestyle. I’ll never have to hide anything from her. But in the back of my subconscious, I know that she isn’t like me. She’s more than me. She’s my fucking boss.
I wait for the blow to my ego that never comes. If anything, I’m turned on by her authority. I was in love with the most powerful woman in organized crime. Yesterday, she was in love with me too. I just hope like hell that doesn’t change.
The club is still in shock over the turn of events. Relieved, thankful, nervous, and skeptical. But above all, we’re proud that justice has finally been served. We’re in Jackpot, at the clubhouse, on the patio. We’re not finished smoking our first welcome home cigarette when Chaps finally asks what’s on everybody’s mind.
“So, what’s up with you and Dorian’s daughter?”
All eyes turn to me, waiting for the juicy gossip like a bunch of women in a beauty shop. I feel a heaviness in my chest at the mention of her. Truth is, I don’t know what’s up. After she pulled that trigger, I wanted nothing more than to go to her. But, she’d warned me off with a look, then left with Dorian.
“I saw those looks she was giving you. You hit that or something?” Chaps pushes, and I level him with a look.
“Mind your own fucking business,” I warn before stomping back inside. At the bar, I can’t seem to do anything to calm my nerves. I become more restless by the minute. Downing some shots, I wait impatiently for the liquor to help numb my brain, but nothing is working. Rookie takes a seat next to me, offering his silence as comfort and surprisingly, it helps.
“What if what we had wasn’t real?” I ask, loud enough for only him to hear.
“It was real. Trust me.” Rookie shoots a wink to one of the topless bartenders who hands him a baggie and some rolling papers. “Just give it a little time. Looks like she’s gonna need some.”
“No shit she’s gonna need some. She’s in the fucking Mafia, Rookie.”
He shrugs, focused on his task at hand. “And you’re an outlaw. But there is good news.” He licks the blunt before rolling it tightly and handing it to me. “You can forget all that shit I said about it not working. Now she knows everything.” He claps me on my back, striking a lighter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it can work. And three hits later, my problems with Diem are a distant memory.
Soon, the celebration that we’re not only still alive, but now over the entire U.S., is in full swing. Monica was told to call in some extra help for the next few days, and chapter members from all around were pouring in by the minute.
It’s an all-night party and in the early hours of the next morning, we’re still going strong. The women are topless, the liquor is chilled, and the music is good. But my buzz is fading and Diem is resurfacing in my mind.
Aware that something is bothering me, Rookie attempts to snap me out of my depression. “Maybe you should call her.”
“I’m not calling her,” I snap, not intending to be a dick but acting like one.
“Fine,” he says, giving me a few minutes of silence before coming up with another suggestion to ease my troubles. “Want me to get Monica to take you out back?”
“Fuck no,” I groan.
Rookie laughs and slides me a shot. “Just offering.”
Moments later, I notice that the noise has died down significantly. Rookie elbows me and I turn to see six men wearing suits standing just inside the door.
“Can I do anything for y’all?” Monica purrs in her fake southern accent.
“Yeah. Put a fucking shirt on.” Diem emerges from the crowd of men and scans the room until she finds me. Her eyes narrow and I notice that another one of the topless girls is standing across from me with her natural DDs propped up on the counter. “Do you bitches not have clothes?”
Damn, I love when she’s pissed. She looks so fucking sexy in that little red dress that I just want to rip to shreds. Then I want to throw her on this bar and fuck her in front of everybody and let them know that this one is mine. I’m sexually frustrated, hanging by a thin rope, and she’s doing nothing but being the infuriating, delicious goddess she always is.
I want her more than ever. The look she’s giving me tells me she wants me too. The electricity crackles between us. Everyone around us is forgotten. If they’re looking, I don’t notice. All I see is her. Fire blazes in her eyes. She exudes power. She’s a walking, talking, bitching, underboss Mafia fucking queen. And until she tells me different, she’s mine.
I hold her gaze as I stand, telling her I want to kiss her. Lick her. Fuck her until nothing else matters. Then I walk away from the crowd and toward the bedrooms at the back of the clubhouse—knowing damn well that she’ll follow.