by Faye Byrd
“Yes, Boss,” he says on a sigh with a probable eye roll or some fucking mimicking bullshit I can’t see.
“Then fucking do it!” I sling the phone across the room.
My blood boils—even though he’s right. It’s not his job to liaison with Ivan on an Outfit-related mission, but fuck Ivan—for now at least. I have nothing to say to his skinny, liberty-taking ass. He had no fucking right to interfere in something that’s none of his goddamn business. Especially not at the expense of my fucking balls. And that’s really all it boils down to. I can’t make myself be mad at Piper—I deserved it—so Ivan gets the brunt of the monster’s rage for sending her up. But I love my brother, and so does the monster; therefore, he’s safe, just on my shit list this week.
Childhood fucking friend. I scoff. That’s all the proof I need that she knows of our history. I’m sure Henry Fucking Tate left no stone unturned in his baseless plea, though her actions weren’t about that—at fucking all. Her approach left no question as to where her anger lies.
I fucked up.
I felt too much.
Unable to quell the urge thinking about her brings, I move the mouse and wake the sleeping laptop. Opening the security app, I scan through the thumbnails, selecting the frame I wish to view at a closer range. Once it fills my screen, I click on the little icon which allows me to rotate the camera and use the pointer arrows to navigate it until it’s focused on her.
Then I zoom.
My lip disappears between my teeth as I take her in. She’s different tonight. Dressed in all black with heavy makeup and long leather boots with some of the highest and narrowest heels I’ve ever seen. Her movements are as sensual as always, but they’re also aggressive.
My fist lodges in my mouth.
For one split second, her eyes pass over the camera, causing my heart to pound heavily. On her next rotation, she kicks out her leg and hooks it over the shoulder of the first male in the vicinity, pulling him within arm’s length of the platform. Her hand grips his hair tightly, and she thrusts her hips, guiding his head to mimic a vulgar display.
My teeth break the skin as I do my best to contain my rage—not the monster but Dante Fucking Simone. I release a growl as I stand and prop my palms on the desk, leaning closer to the screen. It’s then that I see it.
Her head is thrown back, but her eyes aren’t closed. No. They’re focused dead on the camera, narrowed and defiant. My hands slap against the desk before I begin to pace. She’s fucking daring me to stop her, and I’m always willing to take a dare.
Storming from the room, I charge to the elevator and take it down the two floors necessary to meet her challenge. My fists open and close constantly in an attempt to get my rage under control, lest I choke her to fucking death if she’s still touching that motherfucker. My blood thumps to the beat of the music as I finally enter the club at floor level.
I push bodies aside as I make my way toward her platform, and before I even get there, I already know that fucking nonsense is still ongoing. Hoots and cheers are filling my ears and rattling around in my brain. My fists tighten again, and my steps quicken, bodies being shoved out of the way by the force of my shoulders as I bolt through the wall of males between me and the spectacle herself.
When I finally burst through the front line, my eyes snap to the movement on the right. Not only does she have the original lap dog, but another is gripped in her other hand as she takes turns gyrating toward them as they both allow her to do any-fucking-thing she likes.
It feels as if every hair on my body stands on end as I approach the trio, so calm that even I’m surprised. I simply shove the first body back and slip my arm around her waist, tossing her over my shoulder. The original lap dog may or may not have been knocked on his ass in the fray.
Her fists pound against my back, and her legs fly out as she wiggles and squirms, but I don’t give a fuck. Just holding her is goddamn glorious, and I absorb every single second, dreading the moment I’m going to have to face her. I walk straight through to the back of the club and smash through one of the emergency exits, landing us in the alley between Grizzly HQ and Simone Place.
When the stench of the outside air fills my nostrils—or maybe it’s the nearby garbage can—I stop and close my eyes for one brief second, savoring the last instance of Piper’s skin against mine. Somehow, I’m still able to block out her tantrum, though I know it’s happening.
For one peaceful, stinky moment, I just feel.
Way too fucking much.
Once that passes, I slap that shit to the back of my mind and revive the anger over her antics. When it’s sufficiently in place, I toss her ass to the rocky pavement without much preamble—I did make exaggerated movements so she had time to catch herself before landing on said luscious ass.
As soon as she gets her balance—I don’t fucking know how in those goddamn heels—she flies at me, hand reared back. I grip her wrist tightly. “I don’t fucking think so.”
Her lips tighten so small they almost disappear as she snatches her arm away and tries—a-fucking-gain—to reach my face. This time to claw out my eyeballs, each hand slinging from a different direction.
I grab both wrists, her left claw just inches from my cheek, and breathing heavily, I stare her down. The fire in her eyes is enough to scorch me where I stand, and my blood simmers in response, igniting that familiar spark that’s always burned hotter than the sun.
With rage and frustration clouding my judgment, I react instinctively, shoving her back against the smooth concrete of Simone Place and bracing her hands against the wall on either side of her face. She’s still resisting my every move, but I’m not sane enough to stop myself from making the situation worse.
Pent-up, confusing emotions flow through me and escape by way of irrational actions. Like I’m another person entirely, I lean down and shove my tongue forcefully into her mouth.
And it works.
For about ten seconds.
Ten glorious fucking seconds
Though my lips are insistent, she meets them with equal passion. Our tongues collide in a flurry of twists and thrusts that are both messy and perfectly in sync. Being connected with her centers me like I haven’t been in days, and flashes of a future that could be mine pass through my head, bringing an epiphany that’s been elusive.
But just as I come to terms, so does she, in the exact opposite way. Her teeth latch on to my tongue, and she bites down so hard my grunt of approval turns into a growl of pain as I snatch my mouth away. I turn to spit blood and ball my fist, pounding it into the solid wall beside her head.
She only smirks and crosses her arms.
When I’ve calmed enough, and my knuckles are as bloody as my mouth, I glare at her. “Are we fucking even now? Can we stop the games and at least have a goddamn conversation?”
She starts jabbing that finger into my chest. “We’re more than even, Dante Simone. We’re fucking done! Do not ever approach me again!” She attempts to storm away, but that’s not fucking likely.
I grab her arm, causing her fiery eyes to burn through me. “Not so fucking fast,” I bark, angry that she’s making things harder than they have to be. “I get it, okay? I fucked up, but you can’t do shit like that in there.” I shove my finger toward the club. “I’m not a man to be toyed with, Piper. You’ll only get burned.”
She snatches her arm away as she rounds on me. “Is that some kind of fucking threat? Don’t mess with the big, bad mobster, or he’ll what? Are you gonna ice me or something?” Her hands are flying around all crazily, and her voice is a little hysterical.
I claw my hand through my hair and sigh. “I’d never hurt you, Piper.”
She shakes her head sadly. “You already have.”
This time when she turns to leave, I let her go, the truth of her words stabbing me like a hundred tiny knives. I don’t even bother trying to follow. I simply turn and wander along the side of my building, headed to the front entrance. Feeling defeated like never before, I ma
ke my way to the penthouse and into the shower.
I wish I could say I jacked my cock to flashbacks of the defiant fire that burned from within her, but even that isn’t enough to bring my cock to life. It hangs lifeless and useless—just like my fucking heart feels.
As I climb into bed, my mind, though heavy, is clearer than it’s been in the past five days. Tonight brushed away the cobwebs and allowed me to see clearly. Piper’s not just another fuck to this perpetual dater. She’s smart and caring and sexy as fuck. She’s tended to me, more than once, and called me on my bullshit. She’s special. She brings sunshine into my life, and now that she’s gone, I only have myself to blame for the lingering storminess.
My night is spent tossing and turning, torn between images of a future that won’t ever be mine and the mistakes that snatched it from me. The mind is a mysterious thing, and mine is even worse with the monster trolling my thoughts, but even he’s missing the compassion she’s shared with us in the past.
I spend Wednesday taking care of business, which entails a lot of calls with Carlos to finalize the details for the Miami trip since I’m still not talking to Ivan. They’ve actually done great so far, creating a “throw away” alias for a visit that will lead the cops to nowhere when One-Eye suddenly goes missing. Antonio and Carter will perform as usual for their working weekend getaway, only sparing a few hours to slip off and take care of business with no one the wiser.
Pop’s been pretty quiet on this front. He doesn’t like that I’m going to Miami for the job, but he also wants it done. He has his own ax to grind, as this man has cost him a lot—as he perceives it anyway.
Thursday morning brings my irate brother barging into the penthouse as I drink my coffee and read the morning paper. “What have you done?” he asks in lieu of any other greeting. “Did you fire her?”
I lift a brow. “Who?”
His eyes narrow behind those dark frames. “Who do you think? Piper!”
“Nope.”
“You expect me to believe she just quit for no reason?” He’s standing there with his arms crossed, his foot tapping. It’s comical enough that I’d be laughing if it weren’t for my heart dropping to my stomach.
“Quit?” I parrot, furrowing my brow. “She quit?”
His shoulders drop from their haughty position as he flops down beside me on my new cum-free sofa. “Yeah,” he says in a defeated tone. “I begged her to stay, but she said she couldn’t. She was even talking about leaving town.”
A small trill of panic rushes through me, but I tamp it down. It’s not my place. I lost that right. I gave up that right. “We can’t force her to stay, Van,” I respond, sounding much calmer than I feel. “Some things are never meant to be.”
His head snaps in my direction, and his blue eyes blaze. “Is that the lie you tell yourself to get over what you did?” He stands now, his tall frame towering over me. “You had everything, and you threw it away! How can you be so fucking calm? The only woman to ever mean anything to you is leaving, and you just shrug it off like nothing. How dare you? How could you be so co—”
“Don’t you dare lecture me!” I roar, standing and shoving him back. “I know what I lost. I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me!”
“Then how can you do it? How can you let her walk away?” he screams back, showing more backbone than Ivan ever has.
“I tried, goddamnit! I tried to talk to her, and she wouldn’t let me.” I drop back to the sofa, defeated. “What would you have me do?” I ask, searching his face.
“Try again,” he says forcefully. “And again if you have to. Why do you think I sent her up here the other day, Dante? I didn’t imagine it’d fix everything, but unless two people actually talk, see each other, nothing will change.” He drops back down beside me. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? It was none of my business, but please, don’t give up. Not yet.”
I’ve always had a weak spot for his baby blues. “Fine. I’ll try again.”
“Before you leave?” he prods.
“Before I leave,” I say with a definitive nod.
He finally smiles that wide, geeky smile. “Good.” He stands. “Okay, I gotta go finalize a few things for your ‘getaway,’ but I’ll talk to ya before you take off tomorrow.”
“Thanks, bro.” I stand and hold out my fist, something I haven’t done in years, but it’s worth it when I see my brother’s smile deepen as he bumps his against it.
“Later, man.”
I’m able to finish my coffee in peace and schedule a meeting with the Capos for later in the afternoon before a call to Lorenzo. No matter whether Piper works at Dark Star or not, I need to know she’s safe. She may not want anything to do with me, but Chicago can be a dangerous town, and I’ll make sure she’s protected as long as she’s here. She deserves that much from me—at the very fucking least.
The meeting goes well, and it’s after six before Angelo, Carlos, and Matteo are making their way out the door. Angelo, the idiot he is, swings his hand wide, expecting some kind of weird dude shake. I leave him fucking hanging with a brow lift.
“Sorry, Boss. I forget myself sometimes,” he says, shrugging his shoulders sheepishly.
“You need to fucking remember from now on,” I say, but I add a smirk so it doesn’t seem so harsh. I turn to Carlos. “See you at the airport. Eleven o’clock.”
“Got it, Boss,” he replies, following his brothers into the elevator.
As soon as they’re gone, I change into a pair of Gucci jeans and a Dolce and Gabbana Henley with my Jimmy Choo high top trainers. Prepared as well as can be, I exit the penthouse and hit the street, intent on walking the same path Piper usually takes just to feel closer to her in some way.
Entering her apartment building is easier than it should be, and that automatically irks the fuck out of me, but I remind myself it isn’t my place to question her judgment. My teeth grind together as I read the mailbox names and get her apartment number so readily—even though I already knew.
I take the stairs, using the extra minutes to find that center she so effortlessly brings. When I exit onto her floor, I shake off any lingering negative feelings and locate her apartment as easily as everything else. If she does forgive me, getting her to move from here will be a top priority.
I take a couple deep breaths before I knock on the door—three strong raps—and wait. It feels like forever before I hear movement on the other side and even longer before the door opens only a couple of inches.
My heart tumbles to my stomach. Her eyes are red and watery, and she’s dressed in a ratty robe with her hair piled atop her head. Even this way, she’s more beautiful than any other woman I’ve ever met.
“Piper,” I say, my voice urgent. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
She runs her eyes up my form before they connect with mine. “What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice void of emotion.
I push against the door. “I came to talk, but obviously, something’s wrong. Let me in.”
She tilts her head and gives me a sad smile. “You’re what’s wrong, Dante.”
I stop my onslaught of the door and take a step back, feeling as if she slapped me. “I’m … I’m sorry,” I stutter before clearing my throat. “I know I made a mistake, but I need you to try to forgive me. At least let me earn it. Please, Piper. I … I miss you.”
“I miss you too, but sometimes that’s not enough.” Tears fill her eyes, and she blinks to push them back. “You hurt me.”
“Will you let me try?” I ask, dropping to my knees on the dingy hallway carpet. “I have a trip this weekend. Business. And I couldn’t leave without telling you. I didn’t want you to think I’d given up. I haven’t. I won’t.”
She’s not even trying to stop them now; the tears roll freely down her cheeks. She sniffles. “I’m also taking a trip. I need a few days to clear my head. Away from this city. Maybe we can talk when I get back. Really talk.”
I crawl on my knees to the tiny crack in the door. “Anythin
g, Piper. Please say that we might still have a chance.”
“I won’t rule it out.” She wipes her face and offers me a broken smile as she closes the door and twists the lock.
I stay there until she finally moves away—ten minutes later.
SEVEN
ANSWERS?
Our plane touches down in Miami late Friday afternoon, and I couldn’t be happier to finally be here. The monster has been suppressed a little too long, and he’s restless as hell, chomping at the bit for answers from this one-eyed fuck. Even the blue contacts and gelled hair aren’t enough to dull the anticipation zinging through me.
A hired-car ride later and we arrive at our South Beach hotel. Antonio takes the lead as we approach the front desk, leaving Carter free to admire the beauty of the lobby, as this is more in character for him.
A pretty redhead smiles as she notices my approach. “Good evening, sir. How can I help you today?” She says it in the usual professional manner, but her eyes keep jumping down to scan what she perceives as an expensive suit and the frame that fills it.
I clear my throat. “You can start by looking me in the eye.” I slide Antonio’s Amex onto the counter. “Then you can check me in.”
“Y-yes, sir,” she stutters, and I roll my eyes. I’m sure a young girl like her meets a lot of big spenders on her job, but even without Antonio’s persona holding me back, it’s fucking annoying to be hit on every time I leave the penthouse.
Especially now.
Maybe I never noticed it before, but for the first time ever, I actually want something. Someone. I know it now, and I can fucking admit it.
“Here you are, sir. Here’s your key card. Have a lovely stay,” she says, her eyes barely making contact with mine, and not because she’s too busy checking me out, either.
“I intend to,” I say with a smirk as I turn to check on Carter.
“Antonio, dear,” he says, swaying toward me. “I just adore that statue over there.” His eyes are sparkling with mischief, but since I have a point to make, it works in my favor.
“Oh?” I lift a brow and lean to see the object he’s referring to. Once spotted, I turn back to the redhead behind the computer screen. “Miss, I’d appreciate if you’d add the cost of that statue to my tab. It seems my partner has taken a liking to it.”