“Is that the only thing you regret?” he asked.
“What?”
“Well, it sounds like you are more concerned with how she feels than how you feel.” Janson looked at me with knowing eyes. They were the same fucking ones my mom gave me when I presented Joanna to her.
Did they all fucking know my weakness?
I blinked. “I don’t like forcing women to do anything they don’t want to, period.”
“Right, but you sound like marrying her is a good thing.” Janson raised his eyebrow at me and took a swallow of his beer.
I thought about her, all of her. Her tight body. That smart mouth. It gave me the fucking tingles. What the hell was wrong with me?
“There could be worse things. I mean, I had to get married sometime-“my voice trailed off. My mother was right. I needed to settle down, and if I was going to do it, might as well have it be a woman like Joanna. A woman who made me hard just thinking about her.
“Seriously? And you aren’t itching to find another woman to dip your wick?” he asked, looking around the bar. There were some pretty woman there tonight. Trashy, but pretty. Normally I’d be all for it, but fuck, she was laying in my bed waiting for me.
And that was an offer I didn’t want to refuse.
“Wow, man. Wow.” Janson said then waved his hand for another beer. “Well, if that’s settled then we really need to talk what we came here to talk about.”
“David,” I said. Janson was pulling out all the fucking stops tonight. “What about him?”
“He’s been fucking sniffing around. Dipping his fingers into your shit.” Janson paused then looked me over. “You don’t even fucking know, do you?”
“Know what?” I asked. I may have been naïve, but it was clear I needed an education.
“Fuck, we got a lot of catching up to do.” Janson shook his head. “I saw him last night, with your father.”
“What?” he might have been a Fitzgerald bastard, but that didn’t mean daddy-dearest wanted anything to do with him. Sure, he gave him a job, set him up nice, but he didn’t openly admit who he was. Not that we didn’t all know. It just wasn’t done.
“He was beating the fuck out of the O’Malley boys with your dad last night. Turns out they owed a pretty big fucking debt. Something about heroin profits?”
I nodded. Part of my dad’s business was infecting the community with that poison, and those low-level shits were perfect distributors. Must’ve shortchanged him on the profits.
Sometimes my dad liked to collect the debts himself.
“And he brought the apple of his eye along?” I asked bitterness dripping in my voice.
My dad liked David. Thought he was a good business person. But he wasn’t ever seen with him, at least not in that capacity. “That bastard.”
It was usually me.
Fuck.
He was stepping into my role. My dad had always planned for this. Always. Raise two rival sons, hone them off each other, and then whoever was the most powerful would come out on top. He expected the other one to sink to the bottom, of the Bay.
I could feel the tension rising in my arms. The anger spreading through my face. My father had made the first move. He’d put David in a position where I had to counter.
It was deliberate, and I knew it, but that didn’t mean I could resist the bait. Fuck. I was too angry to think, I needed to bash some fucking heads.
Then I remembered Vick’s problem. I stood and grabbed the now fun glass and headed towards the pool tables.
“Where are we going?” Janson asked.
“To have a little fun,” I answered, the smile on my face vicious. “Let Vick know we’ll cover any damage to his place.” I winked at him and headed right for those entitled assholes with the pool sticks and their smug faces.
Someone was going to get a beating on the house, just like my drinks.
“Jesus Christ, Greyson,” Janson swore at me, but he was right the fuck behind me.
Joanna
“What the hell happened to you two?” I asked, trying to hide my horror as the two of them stumbled into the penthouse. Janson had a busted lip and bloody nose, and Greyson was going to have a shiner in the morning.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Greyson asked. His voice was dark and angry as he glared at me. They weren’t exactly stealthy as they banged on the door, trying to steady themselves while they searched for their keys. I’d opened the door before they even inserted a key into the lock.
“Because you woke me up?” I tried not to let my disdain show. I assessed them with new eyes. What I assumed was shit-face drunk was just slightly buzzed. I could tell by their hand-eye coordination that they were a little inebriated, but there was no slurred speech, no outrageous behavior.