That Time I Accidentally Took Over the Mafia (Accidental)

Chapter 2

“ D on’t you dare ‘Peach’ me,” I snap, snatching the coffee from Jax. I might be furious that my exes are in my house, but I’m not stupid. I’ll need plenty caffeine to survive this morning—probably an amount that should come with a surgeon general's warning.

Jax grins, a trademark lollipop stick dangling from his mouth, and gives me a wink as he hands over the coffee. My coffee. Perfectly brewed, hot, and exactly how I like it. I take a sip. Damn, it’s good. God help me, I needed this. Jax’s grin widens as he watches me.

“You owe me twenty,” Luca calls to Enzo, who’s strolling in from the balcony. Apparently he’s done traumatizing one of his poor employees for the time being and apparently they placed bets on how I’d react seeing them?

I guess I need a can of hairspray and a lighter to shake things up a bit. I would venture a guess they didn’t plan on me coming in with a homemade flame thrower.

“What the hell are you three doing in my house? This is breaking and entering, you know.” I tilt my head, locking eyes with Jax. “Wouldn’t that violate your parole? It’d be a shame if you ended up back in prison so soon after getting out.”

“Prison?” The voice comes from beside me, making me jump. I completely forgot about What’s-His-Name. Poor guy. He’s trembling like a lost lamb in a den of lions. “Are they prison nutritionalists?”

I offer him an apologetic smile, about to tell him, Maybe you should go , when Jax interrupts.

“He stays for breakfast,” Jax says, pointing his half-eaten sucker at What’s-His-Name while setting down a massive pan of scrambled eggs. Tossing the lollipop in the trash, he adds, “There’s plenty, and it’s ready.”

Plenty? Oh, sure. There’s plenty of awkward tension, plenty of weird silence, and plenty of... my ex-boyfriends in one space. There’s also plenty of bacon, fresh biscuits, and cubed pineapple. Jax’s grin stretches wider as he sets everything on the table, eye-fucking me the entire time.

Jax’s nickname for me, "Peaches", is because of my love for fruit. Also, according to Jax, they make my pussy taste “damn delicious.” Which, unfortunately, makes me glance at his mouth.

Fuck, that was a mistake. His smug smile tells me he knows exactly where my thoughts have wandered.

What I don’t need right now is to think about his expert tongue on my vag. What I do need is to get all four of these bastards out of my house.

Luca piles a plate for Enzo, who gives him a wink as he takes it. “Thanks, babe.”

Um, what?

Then Enzo casually rubs Jax’s hip, nearly grabbing his dick.

Pardon me, sir?

Everyone sits at my table like some big, happy family of... lovers?

Questions flood my brain: Why are they here? How do they know each other? How the fuck did they find me? That last one answers itself: Luca, obviously. When did they start screwing each other? Who’s the top? Do they switch?

My brain takes a nosedive. Do they all fuck at once? A vision of a three-way 69 pops into my head, and I can’t stop myself.

“Is everyone here fucking each other?” I blurt, my brow furrowed in confusion.

“To be fair, we’re not fucking your friend Matt,” Luca says, finally looking at me. “And yes, that is his name,” he adds with condescension.

“I know his name is Matt,” I huff.

“Actually, it’s Mark,” pipes up Mr. Mediocre in a small voice.

Luca smirks, triumphant. I narrow my eyes and mouth, I will kill you .

Prick. He did that on purpose. He probably knows more about Mark’s life than Mark does. He set me up to look like the jackass that forgot the guy’s name. I mean I did forget his name, but my stepbrother doesn’t have to point it out.

And how the hell did he know I forgot Mark’s name?

As I sit, one interesting fact hits me: Every single one of these men has had their dick in me at some point. Hmm, small world, I think, sipping my coffee as I delay returning to the drama unfolding in front of me.

But Jax has other plans. “So, Mark,” he starts, handing me a plate and turning to my petrified date. I’m pretty sure he’s wondering if I spent any time in prison as he avoids looking at me.

“I saw those in the vase. You ole’ charmer.” He nods behind him at the half-dead bundle of flowers Mark had when I opened the door last night. The plastic wrapper in the trash still has the 50% off sticker on it and I know Jax saw that too. I stab the fluffy eggs instead of Jax’s brown eyes.

Mark hesitates. “Uh, yeah. I, uh, picked them up on the way over.”

“Thoughtful,” Jax replies, stuffing eggs into his mouth before he continues with my waterboarding. “And where’d you take our Delaney last night?”

Our Delaney ? I glare at him, chewing my eggs. Damn it, they’re delicious.

“Uh, Bristol's Grill & Bar on 9th. They have a really good two-for-$25 menu.” Poor Mark shifts uncomfortably…again.

Jax’s eyes widen like Mark just told him he personally invented fire. “Two-for-$25?! Classy. Do they have a Michelin star?”

I grip my fork, seriously debating stabbing him. Jax’s smile only spreads.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” Mark glances at me, desperate for help but looks away quickly. There’s no saving him.

“Damn,” Jax continues, glowing with fake enthusiasm. “You really know how to treat a lady.”

Mark’s face goes crimson. I swear, I hear his pride shatter. He looks like he might cry, and honestly, I don’t blame him.

Enzo, meanwhile, ignores everything. I’m actually surprised he didn’t stick Mark in the garbage disposal on sight and get to whatever they came here for. In fact, the seconds ticking by are driving my anxiety higher to know what the fuck is going on. Swirling his coffee like it’s the only sane thing in this madhouse, he stands when his phone rings. “I’ll be outside,” he mutters, leaving without another glance.

The rest of us sit in tension, Jax clearly enjoying himself. He leans back, smirking. “So, Mark,” he asks, entirely too casually, “tell me, how’d Delaney do in the bedroom last night?”

I sputter on my coffee, choking as I glare at him. This–mother fucker–did not seriously just ask that, did he? And now I’m supposed to sit here while he conducts a fucking interview about my—our—private business?

It doesn’t matter that he has been balls deep in my private business… many times. But that was four years ago. You don’t just drop into someone’s kitchen with your pecks on display and talk to their fling about sexual performance ratings.

Mark looks like he is wishing he could just sprout a set of rocket boosters and fly right out of here, but Jax doesn’t wait for him to answer. "Luca, play the clip."

My heart actually stops.

The room goes dead silent as Luca pulls out his phone with an expression that tells me I’m going to hate this. My stomach sinks as Luca swipes across the screen and then—oh no.

“Oh yes, just like that—” my own voice fills the room. Then a pause. The long, awkward silence where I forgot Mark’s name and had to wing it with, “—yeah, just like that.”

My face goes redder than a lobster in a pot. I can't look at any of them. Not at Luca’s blank expression, not at Jax’s smug smile, and especially not at Mark’s face, which is so red it looks like it might catch fire.

Wait a god damn minute. My eyes, burning with rage now, fly to Luca. “Is my room bugged?”

He only smiles. This cocky son of a bitch.

Jax, as casual as ever, looks over at me, then back at Mark. “See, you can tell she’s faking it.” He’s almost proud of himself for this. “When she’s actually about to come–”

I swear I can feel my soul leaving my body.

This is the moment where I wish a tornado would pop down from the sky and swoop me off to another land. Perhaps Zeus could lightning bolt Jax in the asshole to stop him from whatever he’s about to say next.

Just as I’m about to throw my coffee at him, Enzo bursts back into the room, his sharp eyes cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter.

“Leave,” he barks at Mark, his voice deep and commanding, not a trace of emotion or hesitation.

Mark looks like he’s about to drop dead from embarrassment, but thankfully, he still retains enough control over his body to grab his boots and make a beeline for the door.

I can’t even look at him. Not because I care—no, no, it’s because I’m too busy mentally blocking out the fact that I just got exposed by my own damn voice.

Mark doesn’t even look at me as he shuffles awkwardly by the door, trying to pull it open but it’s locked. Then he pushes it. Sweet baby Jesus. Mark’s face is a patchwork of red as he fiddles with locks.

When it’s clear he’ll be trapped here forever without help, I get up and unlock the door for him.

“I’ll–call you?” he mutters, his voice cracking in embarrassment.

And I can’t help but laugh because, what else can you do in a situation like this? “Please don’t.”

The second the door clicks shut behind Mark, I spin on my heel, arms crossed over my chest, a glare sharp enough to cut glass. I look at my three exes, all of them with smug smiles or impassive faces, and wonder if today is the day I commit my first and last triple homicide.