Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four

by Akeroyd, Serena

  Lena gasped at that, prompting me to look back at her; her horror was clear. As was her surprise. I doubted the surprise was for the beating, but for how Aidan Sr. had gone about it.

  Holding Eoghan down to be beaten? It reminded me too much of a dog being chained to the wall and whipped.

  Brennan either didn’t care his mother was startled or didn’t realize, because he stormed on, “Declan’s got the woman he wants, now me. Why should Junior and Conor settle for less? Why would you want them to?”

  Lena reached up to cover her mouth, but, for the first time, she appeared fragile. She looked her age.

  Her shoulders stooped.

  The whisper of wrinkles on her brow and around her eyes made a telltale appearance.

  And she looked... tired.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  This world we inhabited had a tendency to make us feel a damn sight older than we actually were. A lot more exhausted, too.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ma.” He turned away, until she called out:

  “Bren?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did he really get Louie and Niall to hold Eoghan down?”

  “He did.”

  A swift intake of breath whirred through the hall like she had the force of a hurricane behind her.

  “I didn’t know.”

  Brennan just peered at her over his shoulder. “In the end, he was lucky. The marriage worked out. She’s his choice now. Luck isn’t something men like us often get though.”

  She shook her head, but I could see the tears welling in her eyes. Brennan did too, because he hesitated, and I knew he wanted to go to her. Wanted to make this better, but how could he?

  Lena, seeing the internal war, just whispered, “I’ll see you tomorrow, son.” She turned her attention on me. “And you, Camille.” She licked her lips. “Thank you again for the gifts. I’m sure we’ll cherish them.”

  The inclusive pronoun had me sending her a soft smile.

  We were women, born into this underworld, and we knew we weren’t often the ones who had a say in these matters…

  Maybe that shot between us like lightning bolts that united us together. Both from different camps but still existing in this half place where we were second class citizens with our men.

  Unless we claimed our territory.

  Unless we made it ours.

  And now I saw Lena, now I could see her interactions with Aidan, and the force inherent in her, I knew Brennan would never respect any woman who wasn’t like that.

  Who didn’t have power, meager though it might be, behind her.

  I’d just been given a life lesson, did mother and son but know it, and I wasn’t a slow learner.

  Twenty-Nine

  Brennan

  That definitely hadn’t gone as planned.

  While I could have prevaricated over who Camille was to me, the second he’d opened the door, when I’d seen Da’s reaction to her, I’d known that wasn’t possible.

  In all honesty, I’d thought it more likely that I’d walk out of their place with a full belly than a shiner, because Da was not only getting old, he wouldn’t have pulled that move in front of Ma. But I’d been wrong on both counts.

  None of Ma’s roast had been consumed, and I wasn’t rocking a black eye.

  It was a close won thing though. The more shit he spewed, the more I wanted to beat him, but my week had already taken a twist, I didn’t want to end it with sending my da to the ICU.

  With years’ worth of bitterness building up, there was no way in fuck I could do anything other than make him pay for what he’d done to us. I never allowed myself to feel resentment for the path I’d taken, and I wasn’t about to start now, but when it boiled down to a fight? I’d let my fists do the fucking talking.

  The journey back to the city was quiet. I appreciated that. I knew we were both deep in our thoughts, so I set a playlist on low that suited my mood—Jose Gonzalez. I appreciated the soft, twinkling notes of his guitar and dulcet voice as I tried to figure out my next move.

  Not just with Da, or Ma, but with the NWS. As well as all the other crap that was coming home to roost.

  Rats, rats everywhere. It was starting to feel like this was a ship that was about to sink from the weight of them.

  When we made it back to Manhattan, I broke the silence to ask, “What do you want to eat?”

  I half expected her to dither or to ask me what I wanted first, but she surprised me by immediately answering, “Sushi.”

  Though I didn’t feel like eating out, she was all dressed up, and even though she’d rushed through her make-up thanks to our fuck before leaving, she looked like a million dollars. I was prick enough to want to show her off.

  Though respectable, with the skirt running at mid-length, it clung to her ass and thighs in a way that should be illegal.

  The blouse she wore had a deep V-neck and she’d placed some kind of bandeau there to make it less racy. It revealed toned arms, strong and lean, and shoulders that were made to be marked by my bites.

  The thought had me grunting under my breath as I directed us through Midtown toward my favorite sushi place.

  It was packed, like always, but when I gave the valet my car keys, I saw the guy manning the valet stand pick up his radio to warn the owners I was here.

  “Wait here,” I ordered her as I jumped out and rounded the fender to open the door for her.

  Helping her out, I tucked her arm in mine, and together we walked down the carpeted sidewalk toward the entrance.

  The maître d’ opened the door for us, all beaming smiles and ass-licking words of greeting as we were guided to my regular table.

  A couple shot me a glower, which told me they’d been the unlucky ones to get moved so I could eat here, but I ignored them, knowing they’d get a free meal from the tab that I’d be picking up later. Akemi, the maître d’, knew how I rolled.

  When he took Camille’s coat, I arched a brow when I saw the skirt had magically drifted up a few inches, and the bandeau that made her tits look respectable had disappeared too.

  My jaw cracked as I pulled back the seat for her. When she slipped into it, I leaned over and, in her ear, rasped, “Feel like playing with fire tonight, do you, Camille?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” she whispered, tilting her head to look up at me.

  Her eyelashes weren’t false, they were just fucking long, and I felt the brush of them against my cheek.

  The slight tickle shouldn’t have turned me on even more, but it did. I straightened up, shoved my coat at Akemi, then grabbed my chair and rather than sitting opposite her, moved it to her side so we were sitting at 12 o’clock and quarter past.

  Taking my place, I rocked back as a server appeared to whisk our coats away from Akemi, who beamed a smile at me, acting as if I hadn’t just fucked up his service for the night.

  “I’ll have my usual,” I told him gruffly, planting my hand on Camille’s thigh and glowering around me as I saw a couple of the guys in our perimeter staring at her tits.

  Akemi bowed, before he gave his attention to Camille, handing her the menu and asking her what she’d like to drink.

  When she chose a glass of house rosé and a bottle of sparkling water, he disappeared to give her some time to select her food.

  My fingers spread wide to cover a large part of her thigh, before I asked, “What happened to the Mary Tyler Moore look?”

  “That was to impress your parents, not you.”

  The candid answer had me grinning. “So, I just needed to fuck you to get you to let your hair down, huh?”

  “Takes a stick to remove a stick.”

  “Out of your ass?” I arched my brow at her again. “I’ll be more than willing to shove something up there later on.”

  “That a promise?” Camille questioned, her gaze meeting mine over the menu.

  My hand clamped down on her thigh again. “You want to tease me by wearing short skirts, and skimpy tops,” I rasped, sitting
up and whispering the words against her cheek, “go for it. I can take it. But you don’t dress like this when I’m not with you. Understood?” I kissed her there, where I’d let my words make their brand.

  “Seeing as you’re the one I want to tease, where would the fun be in dressing like a slut if you’re not around?”

  Heat sparked inside me, not just at her words, but at the fact she wasn’t cowering at mine, but fighting fire with fire.

  Maybe it really had just taken a good fuck to get her to chill out?

  Who the hell knew how a woman’s mind worked?

  “Good point,” I rumbled, and maybe I was dumb to let her words appease me, but they did.

  When a guy, evidently returning from the restroom, caught sight of Camille, I let him take his fill of her, before shooting him a death stare when he shot me a glance too.

  Let him try to take his fucking measure of me.

  Asshole.

  I couldn’t stop myself from pressing my lips to her shoulder, from letting my tongue peek out to trace a shape on the bony joint, before I murmured, “I can call you that, Camille, you can even think it, but no one will ever think that about you. Do you hear me?” She wasn’t a slut outside of our bedroom, and I’d kill any cunt who said otherwise. Because if she was, then so was I.

  “You’re very bossy tonight,” she said breathily.

  “I’m always bossy,” I rumbled. “Always.”

  “Well, more so than usual,” she acquiesced, tensing up as I let my fingers trace the same shape my tongue had on her shoulder, but on her thigh instead.

  If this was the human male version of pissing on my territory, then so be it.

  And I’d do it every fucking time if it meant that I got to peer down that blouse of hers and to see those luscious tits while I ate Michelin-starred sushi.

  Mine.

  The word wouldn’t stop reverberating around my head.

  Mine.

  Maybe saying it out loud to Da changed shit for me—I’d never know for sure. But I’d already been feeling the pull of it, the sneaky tendrils of possessiveness that came when a woman wasn’t something just to bang but to keep too.

  Akemi appeared again, a waiter at his back with her sparkling water and an iced tumbler, a frosted bottle of Shochu—Japanese vodka—with two shot glasses and a chilled rosé on a tray, his smile still in place as the server placed both on the table while the maître d’ waited on Camille’s order.

  “That’s not enough,” I told her as she made her selections, knocking back a shot of vodka to take the edge off. That was all I’d be having of that seeing as I was driving, but Akemi would package up the bottle for me to take home.

  The server took it away, and within seconds, a glass of Anahi, Japanese beer, replaced it.

  “It’s plenty,” she argued, her gaze irritated as she shot me a look.

  It wasn’t.

  I didn’t think she was on a diet, but it made sense that months’ worth of misery while she lived under her father’s roof was enough to cut her appetite in half.

  “If you’re going to keep up with me, you need the energy.”

  Her lips moved into a mutinous pout, but she conceded by adding a couple more dishes to her order.

  That we shared an appreciation of sushi pleased me. I didn’t know her, she didn’t know me, but what I was coming to learn was a good sign.

  Whether we argued every day of the fucking week or not, we could always eat sushi on Saturdays.

  The thought amused me enough to have me sinking back into my seat. Peering around the restaurant, I took note of everyone and anyone in here. Spotting a few familiar faces, not just from the Points either. Some politicians, a couple of celebrities. Akemi’s place was popular with the rich and famous of New York.

  “I’m surprised you want to sit here.”

  “Why?” I asked, letting my attention drift to her.

  “We’re in the middle,” she pointed out, like I didn’t know that already. “You’re surrounded.”

  “Better than being at the window.” I tapped my nose. “Drive-bys still happen.”

  She winced. “Yes, I know.”

  She wasn’t surprised when our orders started to pour out almost immediately, because there was no hiding from the preferential treatment I got. Not only was Akemi’s restaurant under the Five Points’ protection, but we also helped him with his imports, which saved his profits from the greedy-fingered IRS.

  As an array of dishes started to make an appearance, cast iron plates and chopstick holders did too. A special ceramic bottle of Tengumai did as well, along with small clay pots tinted with gold for the sake, followed by steaming bowls of tempura vegetables and a vintage bottle of fermented soy sauce, Goyogura shoyu, that Akemi knew was my favorite. As well as the Imperial Household’s. Few soy sauces were given warrants from the Emperor, but this bad boy was, and it tasted like fucking nectar. Akemi knew to always have some in stock for me.

  As the staff retreated with bows, the maître d’ included, we were left to our own devices.

  “Everyone’s wondering who we are,” she declared, her tone amused as she picked up her chopsticks.

  “Let them wonder,” I retorted, grabbing mine as well and making a start on the food. It wasn’t one of Ma’s roasts, but this was a fond favorite too.

  For a few minutes, neither of us talked much, just enjoying the food. I almost thought she’d be too nervous to speak, but I should have known otherwise.

  “I’ll have to bring Inessa here.”

  “She likes sushi?”

  “Well, it wouldn’t make sense to bring her here if she didn’t, would it?” Camille teased, her grin cheeky. “I wonder if she’s still friends with Lisandra—that girl could eat more raw tuna than a sumo wrestler.”

  “Lisandra?”

  “They went to school together. Used to be best friends.”

  “I think Eoghan’s mentioned her.” My brow puckered. “In fact, I know he did. She’s a nightmare, isn’t she? Always getting into trouble?”

  “Oh dear, I was hoping she’d have grown out of that.”

  “Apparently not. She moved away for college though. At least, I think so.”

  “I’m surprised you remember.”

  My lips curved. “She came back for Fall break, and she and Inessa went to a club together.”

  Eyes round, she asked, “Did something happen?”

  I shook my head, but I thought by my deepening smile she knew that was a lie.

  She leaned into me, bringing with her the scent of chamomile, and whispered, “What happened?”

  “Eoghan followed them to the club to make sure everything was going to stay copacetic for them—he’s a control freak. Anyway, he broke two guys’ arms...” I rubbed my chin. “I remember because it was one of my clubs and I had to pay the bastards off.”

  “You mean it’s not out of the ordinary for him to break random people’s arms?” Camille questioned with a laugh.

  I arched a brow. “What do you think?”

  She chuckled, then murmured, “By the way, I claimed one of the lower bedrooms as mine. I hope that’s okay?”

  I just shrugged. “Fine with me. You won’t be sleeping in there though,” I tacked on, a warning throbbing through the words.

  “I never said I would be,” she pointed out. “In fact, I was going to ask Bagpipes to move the bed. I’d like to buy a desk and a few other things.”

  “Go for it. I’m sure Bagpipes will have a blast as your furniture mover. Although, tell him in advance because he’ll bring Forrest to help out if you want to shift a large piece like the bed.”

  I already knew which she’d claimed for her own, because I’d been in there to check things out.

  “Okay, will do.” She took a sip of water, then asked, “Mind if I serve myself some sake?”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Her delicate hand reached out to cup the bottle, the short nails catching my eye as she poured us both some, as well as the poli
shed stone bracelets she wore. They were pretty, in moonstone, but they didn’t fit her outfit. They were all uniform in size, but for one. It was as large as a piece of bubblegum.

  When she saw me looking at it, she grimaced. “It’s for motion sickness. If I’m not driving, I get nauseated.”

  “Do they work?” I asked, surprised.

  “It’s pretty effective if you get the right spot. It works on acupressure points.” Her smile turned cheeky. “Don’t tell Bagpipes though.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told him I have to drive or I’ll puke all over your car seats.”

  Amused, I chuckled, but I pointed out, “You should let him drive. He has a lot of experience.”

  “I had a defensive driving course when I was younger,” she informed me. “I was even trained how to respond in hostage situations.”

  I arched a brow. “I’m surprised your father cared enough.”

  “Me too,” she said wryly, “but remember, I was an item to sell. You can’t sell it if it’s damaged goods.”

  A thought occurred to me. “Camille?”

  “Yes?”

  “I know it’s not exactly dinner talk but...” I rested the polished ebony chopsticks on their small perch. “Why did you wait to lose your virginity?”

  She blinked. “Well, a part of me was scared, but mostly it was because I was a romantic.”

  “Was?”

  “Yes. Was.” The word was firm. “I waited even though I’d have been safer sleeping around, but I tried to perpetuate the belief that I was a whore by hanging out with the brothers and at the MC clubhouse when I had time. That must have protected me because he never came for me.

  “To be honest, I was surprised Abramovicz still wanted me after my past.” She shrugged. “He must have pissed Father off, and it was a favor or something.”

  My brow puckered as I took her in—she truly believed that. I shook my head. “What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

  “Umm, me?”

  Her blonde hair was like spun gold, her skin so pure it made porcelain look marred. In fact, her face was so perfect, it was like a china doll’s. With the make-up she wore, she was the most flawless woman I’d ever seen. She was too skinny, and she definitely needed to eat more, but with her tits, she was a clotheshorse so she looked phenomenal in everything.