Waiting for my Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Cates, Georgia

  “Unfortunately, it’s something I can never unsee.” She points to my left. “I’m certain she can still give you a first-class blow job eighteen inches in that direction.”

  Neither of us makes a move and she huffs. “Look, all the leaves on my give-a-fuck tree have fallen. It’s been a long day. I’ve been grabbed and fondled by strange men for the last six hours. Some old geezer slipped his hand up my skirt and I had to smile and kindly encourage him to remove it… instead of breaking his face with my fist. I’m tired. I just want to finish my job so I can go home and have one or a dozen glasses of wine and then pass out. I’m not asking for much.”

  This lass’s behavior is absurd—and highly entertaining. I shove my cock back in my pants and step out of her way. “You heard Miss MacAllister. We’re in her way.”

  Geneen laughs but not because she’s amused by this American called Bleu. “Oh, hell no. I’m not moving,” she says, arms crossed and still kneeling.

  “Then you should probably expect this to be hugely unpleasant,” Bleu says.

  “Really?”

  I’m caught completely off guard when Bleu punches Geneen directly in the center of her face, knocking her to the floor, and then kicks her in the gut. She doesn’t give her another glance as she reaches over her crumpled body. I watch her grab a bottle of whisky and inspect it. “I believe this will do nicely.” She sashays toward the door, calling back over her shoulder, “Carry on.”

  I burst into laughter as I help Geneen from the floor. “The girl must be certifiably crazy, but my God, that was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen since… ever.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Geneen touches her face. “I think that bitch broke my nose.”

  I look at her and confirm her suspicion. Her nose is definitely no longer in the center of her face. “I fear you’re right. Looks broken to me.”

  “I’m kicking her arse,” Geneen growls as she starts for the door.

  I grab her arm but not because I fear for Bleu’s safety. I’m certain she can do a right nice job of protecting herself. “There will be none of that, I’m afraid.”

  Bleu has greatly lifted my mood so I’m feeling far too generous to give a penance fuck or start a fight. “Get out of here. Take McLain with you and never come back.”

  Chapter 3

  Bleu MacAllister

  I’m serving ale to four of The Fellowship members when I see Sinclair return from the storage room. My back is to him but I watch his reflection in the mirror behind the bar as he returns to the table to sit with Leith and Jamie. I eye him carefully, not allowing him to see I’m observing him, but I read his lips: “I handled Geneen. She won’t be coming back here again.”

  Jamie and Leith respond but I can’t see their mouths.

  I return to my station and watch Sinclair’s mouth from afar. “That American you hired is passionate about her job.” He recounts the events in the storage room and their laughter reverberates through the bar. Good. I’m glad they find me amusing.

  They drink until all the patrons are gone and only employees remain. Lorna is instructing me in the last of the closing duties when Leith comes over to send us home for the night. “About finished, lasses?”

  “Close enough,” Lorna says. “I’ll show you the rest tomorrow.”

  We go to the tiny hole in the wall called a break room and fetch our things.

  “Can I get a ride home, Leith?” Lorna asks. “My car is in the shop.” I get the distinct impression that a lift home isn’t the only thing she’s talking about.

  “I was going to take Bleu home since it’s her first night.”

  There’s no way I’m getting into a car with Leith Duncan. He’s put his hands on my ass no fewer than a half-dozen times. If he does it again, I’m going to kick the shit out of him and I doubt it would be well received for me to whip my boss’s ass on the first day. Plus it would jeopardize the connection I’m trying to make with Sinclair. “Thank you for the offer but I’m fine. It’s a short walk, not more than ten minutes at most.”

  “I want to take you home,” he insists. Right—and then come up for a nightcap fuck? No, thank you.

  “Another time, boss.” I put my bag on my shoulder and walk toward the exit, my signal to let him know this discussion is over. “See you tomorrow.”

  I go out the door and walk in the direction of my faux late-aunt’s house. It’s really the furnished flat of a woman who recently died but it’s what I’ll call home for the next two to three months.

  The flat was a nice score. Every once in a while, the moon and stars align perfectly. And this was that one time for me. The flat’s owner was a terminally ill elderly lady with no living relatives. She once lived in Tennessee, two cities over from my grandparents. If her life is investigated by The Fellowship, everything they’ll find will lead them to believe I’m telling the truth.

  I’m no more than two minutes into my walk when a black luxury sedan creeps alongside me. The windows are tinted darker than night so I can’t see inside. I suspect it’s Leith making one last attempt to drive me home.

  The back passenger window lowers and luck is with me. It’s Sinclair. “Get in.”

  This guy is used to getting everything he wants so I think it’s time I make things interesting. “Thanks for the exceptionally courteous invite, but no thanks. I’ll walk.”

  Do I think Sinclair Breckenridge gives a shit if I make it home safely? No. Do I think he wants to know where I live so he can ransack my place while I’m not there? Absolutely. And he can knock himself out trying to discover a hole in my story but he won’t find one.

  I spin to walk away but hear him call out behind me. “Get in. Please.” He sounds as though it pains him to say that word. Good. He should learn a little humility. It would serve him well.

  I hesitate for a moment, as though I’m thinking it over before I get into the car with him. “I couldn’t decline your invitation since you said please.”

  “I’ll need to remember that in the future.”

  This will be a short drive. We won’t have much time for talk. “I don’t live far, just six blocks ahead on the right.”

  “I’d like to apologize.”

  “For which incident? Questioning me as though I was a belligerent witness or refusing to move after I asked you nicely to get out of my way?”

  He laughs. “Both, although I’m not exactly sure your request was polite. I seem to recall you sounding a wee bit on the bossy side.”

  “Then I apologize for being rude while interrupting your blow job.” I read his lips when he told Leith and Jamie he was going to give her a penance fuck. It’s unfortunate for his sex life that being with another woman doesn’t fit into my plan to make him fall for me. I’ll be cock-blocking him at every opportunity.

  “You broke Geneen’s nose.” Good. It’ll keep her from getting in the way.

  I shrug. “I probably shouldn’t have done that but I rather enjoyed it after she got smart with me.”

  “Would you have broken my nose as well if I hadn’t done as you asked?”

  I shrug and laugh. “Maybe.”

  “Ahh… another thing to remember for the future. Who taught you to throw a punch like that?”

  I hold up my hand and flex it as though it might be in pain. But it isn’t. I know the proper way to hit someone without injuring myself. “My dad. He wanted me to be able to protect myself.” Total truth. It’s likely the only time he’ll get that out of me.

  “Mission accomplished. He did a quality job.”

  “That’s not all. Per his instruction, I also do an exceptional job of grabbing a man by the balls and forcing him to his knees.”

  He’s amused again. “Then I should worry about the wallopers at Duncan’s instead of you?”

  “Indeed.” I point to my building. “This is my flat on the right.”

  His driver pulls to the side and turns off the car’s engine. I think that’s a sign he expects his employer to come in. “Thanks for the ride.�
��

  “Anytime.”

  He trails behind and attempts to follow me inside so I put my hand to his chest and stop him. “Good night, Mr. Breckenridge.” Women fall at this man’s feet. They literally go to their knees for him whenever he says so my plan to win him over has to be different. I must capture his heart in a new and unfamiliar way. I have to be a challenge, a conquest he’s desperate to conquer.

  “Mr. Breckenridge is my father. Please, call me Sin.”

  “Then good night, Sin.”

  He takes my hand and kisses the top. “Good night, Bonny Bleu.”

  Damn, he’s a handsome and charming villain.

  I spy on him through the peephole as he returns to his car. He stops before getting inside and I’m certain he’s taking note of my address. I have no doubt that 114 Lansbury Way will fall under scrutiny by tomorrow’s nightfall. Good thing I’m prepared for his probing. Still, I’m calling Harry. One last run-through of the plan never hurts.

  * * *

  I work an eight-hour shift at Duncan’s with no sign of Sinclair. I already know he doesn’t come in every night, but I’d hoped yesterday’s events would’ve sparked his interest enough to bring him around. Guess not. That means I must do better.

  I’m walking to my flat after declining a second insistent offer from Leith to drive me home. He’s becoming more aggressive and I can see it developing into a problem if Sinclair doesn’t declare me his soon. That’s an impossibility when I don’t have contact with him.

  This is a race, not a sprint. I can’t expect Sinclair to fall at my feet on day one. That’s why I must bet on the long play.

  I get to my flat and gloat when I see a black Mercedes parked on the street. I’ve memorized his plates so I confirm it’s Sinclair but I don’t allow myself to appear as though I’ve noticed. I go about my business as I would if the car weren’t parked there.

  Once inside, I peek through the curtains down at the street. Why didn’t he get out when I walked by? Did he not see me?

  “Aye, that’s my car.”

  Shit. He’s already inside.

  “Shit!” I spin around and appear startled because that’s what normal people do when they find an uninvited guest in their home. “You scared the hell out of me.” I place my hand to my chest. “What are you doing in here?”

  “You didn’t ask me in after I drove you home so I thought I’d extend an invitation to myself tonight.”

  He wants to have me believe he can get to me any time he likes, with or without my permission. It’s a scare tactic and I have to make him believe he’s succeeded. “You can’t come into my house like this. What if I had a gun and shot you… or something?”

  “I can leave if you like, since I certainly don’t want to be shot… or something.” He’s laughing at me.

  I need him to stay. Spending time together is the only way we’ll connect. “You can stay if you agree to not give me another fright.”

  “I make no promises.” His voice is husky. I think he means to make me uneasy. He’s succeeding.

  “I’m going to have a drink.” I go to the cabinet I’ve stocked with liquor, including his favorite—Johnnie Walker. “Would you care for one?”

  “Sure. I’ll take something dark and neat. Pour it tall. It’s been a dreadful day.”

  I hand him his drink and sit on the opposite end of the sofa. “Want to tell me about it?”

  “It’s a case I’m working so I can’t discuss it.”

  “Client confidentiality?”

  “Something like that.”

  He takes a long drink, like it’s water. “Mmm… that’s good stuff.”

  “Nothing beats JW.”

  He places his drink on the end table and twists slightly to face me. “How was day two on the new job? I trust you didn’t break anyone’s nose today?”

  I damn sure wanted to. “No, but I’m thinking of breaking a few grabby hands.”

  “That isn’t wise, Bleu.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? Let those men put their hands up my skirt? That’s what some of them do. And they act like they have the right and I’m supposed to allow it.”

  “It’s what they’re used to doing because the other lasses let them.” He’s laughing at me again and it pisses me off. It’s not okay for any woman to have to put up with that on the job.

  “I’m not like the other girls. I don’t allow random men to put their hands on me. I would’ve told Leith that had I known it was going to be an issue.” I put my hand to my forehead, as though stressed. “I really need the money from that job but not at the expense of degrading myself.”

  He takes another gulp of whisky. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. It’ll be made clear that they aren’t to touch you again.”

  That’s unexpected. “I don’t want to put you in a predicament.”

  “You’re not. No more worrying. They’ll only bother you for another drink from now on.”

  “Thank you.” He turns up the last of his whisky and I’ve only taken a few sips of mine. We need more time together.

  I get up to collect his glass. “You need a refill.”

  “No, thank you. I must be going. I have court early in the morning.”

  I walk him to the door the way any good hostess would. “Will I see you tomorrow?” I smile sheepishly, flirtatious, just the way I intend. He needs to see a side of me other than the tough girl who can throw a punch.

  “Maybe.” If you’re lucky. Those are the words I imagine when I see the grin that spreads across his face.

  I stand in the doorway and watch him go to his car. “Good luck on your case,” I call out.

  He gives me a smile and a nod. And then he’s gone.

  The first thing I do once I’m alone is study my flat. I’m certain he scoured the place while he was here but for some reason, I want confirmation. I need it.

  It only takes a couple minutes for me to notice the only deviation. A picture frame holding a photograph of me is missing from the bookcase. That’s not what I was expecting.

  How peculiar. He doesn’t need that photograph to run a facial recognition analysis. Any of his grunts could’ve taken my picture if he’d ordered them to. The FBI consistently wipes any trace of the true Bleu MacAllister from the Web so the only one he’ll find is the identity Harry and I created.

  Nothing else is out of place, although he snooped through my things. That’s fine—I was prepared for such. All the appropriate measures have been set into motion. There isn’t a single thing out of place in this carefully orchestrated life I’m living, so I’m certain Sinclair and I will be removing any trust issues between us sooner rather than later.

  It isn’t call day but I want to talk to Harry. This is so much harder than I imagined. I need to hear a comforting voice.

  I’m not certain the flat hasn’t been bugged since last night so I take a walk and use my burner to phone my dad. I assure him all is well before I tell him about tonight’s events. “Sinclair was in my apartment when I came home tonight.”

  “Does that surprise you?” His voice is steady, without alarm—exactly what I need to hear.

  “Not a bit.”

  “Good. I’d be worried if it did. I hope you put on a good front.”

  “A bang-up job, as always.”

  “Perfect. This is good; it means he’s investigating you. We knew he would. It’s always best to get it out of the way early so you can move into the trust phase. I assume everything was in place?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good job, girlie.” I still love hearing Harry’s praise.

  “How did he explain being in your apartment?”

  Uh-oh. Here we go. “He said he was inviting himself inside since I didn’t the previous night.”

  “What the hell was he doing at your place the night before?”

  “Relax. He drove me home after work, but I turned him away at the door.”

  “He’s going to try to get you into bed.” Harry’s voice isn’t so
calm now. “You know that, right?”

  “I completely expect him to try.” No way I’m telling him about Sinclair taking the photograph. He’ll freak.

  “I know how badly you want this but don’t compromise yourself in the process. It isn’t worth it. I’ve seen it happen in the field a hundred times. Believe me when I say you’ll hate yourself afterward.” He trained me to be a killer, yet he still sees me as an innocent little girl.

  “No worries, Dad. I’m not going to give myself to a Breckenridge. They’ve taken enough of me already.” I hate lying to Harry but I can never tell him the truth. He’d be furious if he knew what I was planning.

  “Sometimes being strong is about following your heart. There’s no shame in not going through with this. If at any point you want to stop and come home, don’t hesitate. We’ll never speak of it again.”

  That’s my plan—to never speak of it again, but only after the job is done.

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  About the Author

  Georgia Cates is the New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal Best-Selling Author. She resides in rural Mississippi with her wonderful husband, Jeff, and their two beautiful daughters. She spent fourteen years as a labor and delivery nurse before she decided to pursue her dream of becoming an author and hasn’t looked back yet.

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