22. Grey
GREY
V icente led us back into the conference room off the viewing box, and I was never more glad that I hated being up here. He typically didn’t care about our fucks. But if he knew my wicked love lived with us, he’d mess with her for shits and giggles.
I didn’t care when I was on the whipping post, but I’d rather see her crying sweetly from an orgasm than crying out from strips getting taken off her back.
Parker shut the door, and I crossed the room to drop into the chair at the head of the table. This was my domain, and Vicente could fuck off if he thought I’d pander to him here. He’d know something was up if I suddenly kissed his ass. He liked my crazy, anyway.
Regardless, Vicente was a testy cabrón who enjoyed plucking at peoples’ strings every chance he could. I guess I at least inherited that from him.
I just had no strings to pluck.
In fact, I enjoyed throwing myself on the whipping post to piss him off. Although I’d prefer he not know about our little problem as Andre had referred to her.
“Boys, it’s a great turnout tonight.” Vicente gripped the back of a chair, grinning wildly. His dark hair, which was just starting to silver at the temples, was brushed back neatly and matched the vibe of his pristine navy suit and white shirt that was open at the collar.
Before I left the roped section, I smoothed out my face.
While my brothers were looking for ways to avoid him, I’d always enjoyed finding ways to fuck him back. And showing absolutely no emotion was one of them.
“Vicente,” I rumbled out as Parker walked down to the other end of the room and propped himself up against the wall. Out of all of us, Parker was the one most unaffected around Vicente. He was who he was and didn’t care about the fallout. Seemed to love it even.
When neither of us said another word, Vicente made a sound and waved a hand. “Yes, I’m doing just fine, thank you. I’m happy to see you, too.”
Silence.
“I came to tell you how proud I am of you for your work with Donnie. The next morning, he opened his doors with nary a grumble to assist my men. Only minimal bruising and use of all his limbs. Thanks for that. I know how you enjoy breaking people. His turnabout was a beautiful thing.” He smiled wistfully at the ceiling, his white teeth flashing.
Sometimes, he looked just like Andre, the only brother who had inherited any of his features. Outside of our height, the rest of us looked like our mothers. Thank God.
Then again, in times like this, even with Andre’s face, he had expressions I’d never seen on my brother.
“How did you do it? When I asked, he just tried to spit on me.”
“You allowed that?” Parker remarked drily with a mocking smile.
Vicente shrugged. “Eh, he’s been my doctor for decades. I won’t end his life for that. Not when there’s no one to take his place right away.”
Which meant, at some point, Donnie would die at Vicente’s hand.
Donnie had been “in the life” since Vicente started the Institution.
He would have known what that kind of insult would mean.
I’d bet Donnie was purposefully baiting him.
Either he had a death wish, or he was testing how far he could push Vicente.
That was one of my favorite pastimes, but I had leverage Donnie didn’t have. At least some leverage. Because at the end of the day, Vicente only valued things until they were no longer useful.
“Well?” Vicente speared me with his dark gaze.
“I hit him where he hurts most.”
The sly grin slithering over his face brightened in delight. “My favorite kind of punishment.” When I didn’t elaborate, he scoffed and pushed away from the table. “You two are no fun. At least Andre tries to play my games.”
And I bet Andre would be livid to hear him say that.
“Are you here to watch the fights?” I asked, rocking back and forth in the chair. He rarely came to these events, so that he was here at all was not to be taken lightly.
“Nah, I know you run a decent ship. You could really teach Lafe a thing or two about that. His men run all over him, and he lets them,” he said, his face sour in distaste.
“We’ll be sure to coach our dear brother on the intricacies of how to maim men who anger him.” Parker smirked and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Is that a smart-ass comment?” Vicente’s smile started to slip.
“No.” Parker shook his head. “That’s what you’ve taught us to do.”
And the smile ratcheted back up in wattage. “Well, then, yes.”
I glanced at the door, ready to get back to Amorette.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but I itched at the thought of her being by herself.
All it would take was one small idea in her head, and she’d run.
When I’d given her the tour earlier, I purposefully didn’t take her near any of the exits or lobby.
She’d scowled the entire time, sneaking fury-filled glances at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. I hadn’t gotten off, and I’d regretted it immediately when we left the box.
I nearly pushed her into an empty room a few times to take what I should have taken before. Instead, I walked around all damn day with a stiff dick.
But I was serious. I wouldn’t fuck her while she was thinking about my brother in any capacity. Get her off? Absolutely. I wasn’t going to pass up a chance to make her sweet for me, and she did turn sweet.
She melted in my arms with the sexiest little whimpers that had my dick straining against my zipper.
Soon.
And I wouldn’t mind a little fight when it happened. I was thrilled she loved a taste of pain with pleasure. That suited me perfectly.
“Grey,” Vicente said my name with such force it must have been the third or fourth time he called for me.
“Hmm?” I stared blankly at him.
“Care to share what’s on your mind?”
When I lifted my gaze to his, there was a twitch in his left eye as he tried to smile.
Just looking at his face heated my blood.
I hadn’t been in his presence this long without a whipping post in front of me in a long time.
If I stayed any longer, I might end up slapping him around.
Vicente didn’t deserve a closed-hand punch.
“Not particularly. I have the fight to oversee and need to get back to the floor.” I stood.
This visit was a waste of time. Just Vicente trying to flex his muscle by making us walk like puppets on a string.
“Fine, fine. I need to get back to the airport anyway. Also, Bruno sends his regards. He told me he’s positively excited to meet you in the ring. In his eyes, you’re the best fighter in the game. He can’t be considered the best until he’s won against the best.”
“He won’t win,” I said as I headed toward the door. Parker followed behind me.
“I don’t know. He's been training hard. Bruno has even asked for the use of knives in the fight.”
I let go of the handle and turned around.
“I know, I know. We typically don’t allow weapons in the ring. But I thought, hey, why not. It’s not like you aren’t a master with knives. So, I approved it. You would not believe the bets that have started rolling in when that announcement spread.” He chuckled.
“When was that approved?” Parker asked, fingers curling and uncurling at his sides.
“Oh, about lunchtime today.” Vicente’s gaze narrowed on me.
“All fights are supposed to be cleared through me, regardless if I’m the one fighting or not.
We don’t allow knives.” He’d see this as a weakness, like I was afraid.
It was more like I wanted to run the fights how I wanted them ran.
He had no place in my business as long as I continued to pad his pockets.
“This is just me exercising a little of my power for the greater good. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again. At least, not for a little while.”
We stared each other down.
Did he know?
It didn’t matter, I did things my way, and he wasn’t going to change that.
“Fine by me. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll be sure to have my knives sharpened before the fight.” I was a master with knives. I’d just have to convince Andre not to lose his shit.
Although, if Bruno did win, a knife wound was a hell of a better way to go than getting my face pummeled repeatedly. He was a beast in the ring. He’d go for the neck, then keep stabbing until blood coated the entire floor. Bruno really was my kind of fighter.
I looked forward to it.
Parker and I slipped through the door, and as soon as we cleared the club's top floor, Parker had his phone out, sighing as he typed on it.
“What are you doing?” I stopped his fingers from typing.
“Letting Andre know the stakes have been upped for the fight, you dumbass. What did you think I was doing?” He rolled his eyes.
“You don’t care about any of this stuff. You never did.” I let go, because fuck it. Andre would find out anyway. This way, I wouldn’t have to be the one who told him. And right now, with dark energy crawling under my skin, I was likely to take him to my private ring to blow off some steam.
Andre wouldn’t appreciate that in my current mood.
But I did need an outlet. Why hadn’t I fucked Amorette?
The smell of her still teased my nose, keeping my dick from softening completely.
He sighed. “That doesn’t mean I want you to die. You’re really fucking up all my plans.” Parker shoved his hands in his pockets and strode off, probably to find another small dark-headed girl to fuck.
I hadn’t told him we’d seen. Partly because it would amuse him and partially because it would turn him on to know we’d watched. But I had his number.
The pre-fight was already over, and a mid-level fight was up now. As hard as I tried to push through the crowd, Jan, one of my managers, stopped me and pulled me into a dispute between two rival gang members in the audience.
That stuff was a waste of my fucking time, and Jan knew it. But I’d cleared up the issue real quick when I gave them the option of separating or not leaving the club at all. We were working on renovations in another section of the hotel, and they could easily become part of the concrete pad.