Chapter Eight
“Until we meet again,” he says before disappearing into the night. My head spins from what we just did and how it’s made me feel. All I know is one thing, I’ll never forget tonight.
Lunch With A Side Of Murder
Two weeks have passed since that night, and it still plays on constant rewind in my brain.
I remember every explicit detail of our…
encounter. I can’t lie and say that I haven’t touched myself to the memory every night when the moon casts its glow across my room.
I've left my balcony doors open in hopes he will return. I'm desperate for another taste. It’s pathetic and I hate myself for it. I hate him so much it burns, yet I’m grossly obsessed with recovering the feelings he made me feel that night.
How the fuck. . .no scratch that. . .why the fuck does this always happen to me?
I think life is going to be simple. Obtain my mark, kill them, and go home to watch Netflix in bed.
Yet here I am—in utter shock at the idea that I crave another round of sex with the enemy.
A rivalry built in blood due to decades of murder and betrayal.
I would not have met Ghost if it hadn't been for this bloodshed.
Our bloodshed. Now the only thing that we share is an oath written in blood.
I hate him for getting into my head. I hate him for constantly trying to steal my marks.
I especially hate him for fucking me so good that I feel like a meth head going through withdrawal.
My phone vibrates, snapping me back to reality.
The ID says unknown as I read the text written on the screen.
"Good morning, Love. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to lunch this afternoon, as a thank you?” The French words confuse me momentarily before a realization dawns on me; this is Blake.
I haven’t spoken to him since we saw each other at the hospital.
The same day Ghost and I…no. I've let him take up far too much of my thoughts since.
So much so that I forgot all about the contract between Blake and I.
I shoot back a reply, "Sure. No need to thank me. Knowing I had more balls than the men in the room is enough for me."
Suddenly my phone starts to ring and I bring it to my ear. "Hello?" I ask into the microphone.
"You have a very dirty mouth, Love." I laugh at his words.
"Yeah, you'll get used to it," I retort.
I hear a symphonic chuckle on the other end. "So lunch, you will come, yes?" He asks.
“Yes, when?" I breathe out.
“I'll be at Vincenzo's at twelve thirty. I can send a driver for you." He offers.
“No need, I drive myself.” Letting him know I’m not some washed up mafia princess like the rumors say about me.
“Okay, I look forward to seeing you,” he says in French before hanging up.
I look at the clock and see it is eleven. A thought passes through my mind and I smirk. Best way to get someone out of your head? Ride someone else. It’s only until we take down the Cartel anyways. Best to enjoy the experience to the fullest.
I hop in the shower and get ready for our "date".
Once clean, shaved, and moisturized I head to my vanity to apply makeup and do my hair.
I decide on a sultry eye look and a half-up bun with waves on the bottom.
Inside of my wardrobe I find a skin tight, red silk dress.
With spaghetti straps, a loose bust and a low back, this dress is made to make men fall to their knees.
I finalize the look with black strappy heels.
Perfect. I grab a matching handbag and I'm out the door.
Inside my car, I giggle at how my dress matches the red leather interior.
I slide on sunglasses and head to my destination.
I pull up to the parking lot and as I get out, the valet falters when I throw my keys to him.
I smile and blow him a kiss. I love being a woman.
Men are so easy. Add a hot dress while throwing them some attention- they all melt like butter.
The host opens the front door for me and I look around for Blake.
It takes me about two seconds to find him seated at a table.
His attention is on a server with her large bust on full display.
She is bent over the table and obnoxiously flirting.
I roll my eyes at her desperation. Have some self respect, you should be working.
Not flirting with the clientele. I walk towards the table and our eyes meet.
He chokes on the whisky he has put to his lips.
His eyes trail my body and I smirk in response. "Fuck, Everly."
"I know," I chuckle while flipping my hair over my shoulder.
My attention turns to the hussy who's giving me a dirty look.
"I'll have a glass of your best Merlot. Cold, with fruit in the glass. None of that garnishing shit-fresh-cut fruit. Thank you." She gives me a stiff smile and heads towards the bar.
"A woman who knows what she likes, what a beautiful thing."
I lean forward and in a low voice say, "Oh, Blake. There's many things I like, just as there are many things I hate. Unfortunately, most don't know which they are until it's too late."
He chuckles just as the server returns with my glass.
"Thank you." I say sweetly as she sets my glass down. I bring the drink to my lips and take a sip. It's perfect.
"I'll have the lunch platter with an extra side of capers. Also, a side of bruschetta. Thank you."
She rolls her eyes subtly and writes down my order. She turns her attention to Blake and gives him a smile. "I'll have the same, thank you." Her smile falters but she writes his order as well.
"So in light of recent events, we need to come to a mutual understanding. We both want our families to survive this, right? We want the same things, Everly."
I nod. "I can agree with this, but I have to ask. What do you bring to this partnership? The rumor mill doesn’t have anything beneficial to say."
"That's just the media. You know how it is. I will admit that in the past, life was a game for me. In recent years, I finally have something to challenge me." I roll my eyes at his comment.
I am the best. Just not with him. He’ll make me look weak. In this life, you can't be weak unless you want to get chewed up and spit out.
“And that is?” I ask.
“An enemy and of course the future of the French Mafia to lead.”
"What do you suppose we do moving forward then?" If he thinks this information is enough for me to feel confident in this partnership, he's dead wrong.
"We need to work together. As much as we are enemies, we make better allies. Our families are strong. We can win this war, but only if we work together. I knew you wouldn't love the idea. I told my father this."
Our server cuts us off by placing our food down. "Let me know if there is...anything...you need." She says with emphasis on anything.
"We’re good. Thanks, though," I say with an obvious tone of annoyance.
She walks away and Blake chuckles. "Is someone jealous?" He asks.
I laugh. "Not even a bit. It's just gross to carry yourself like that while working."
I collect some of my meal onto my fork and moan as the flavors dance on my tongue. The sound of a thud makes me open my eyes. Blake is wide eyed, staring at me.
"Everly, I might be in the mafia but I am still a man. I do have my weaknesses and that sound is one of them." I smile in response.
"I enjoy my food and refuse to not enjoy it thoroughly because you are thinking with your dick." He shrugs while scoffing.
Yet again, Ms. Desperate slithers her way over like a leech. The similarities of those two are not lost on me. "How is it?" She asks Blake.
"It's delicious , thank you."
She touches his arm and giggles. "I have a delicious dessert if you would like to try it. It's been made just for you." I groan in annoyance but they both ignore me.
Blake plays with a strand of her hair. "Is that so? Let me guess, vanilla cake?"
She blushes, "Something like that."
I just want to enjoy my meal, and these two are ready to tear each other's clothes off.
"Listen, bitch. I am trying to eat. I get it, low self esteem makes it hard for you to control yourself around powerful men but come on. Get yourself together and stop making a fool of yourself. You look desperate." She gasps.
"You're just jealous he isn't giving you the same attention. Probably won't even touch you anymore."
I laugh, like actually laugh. This girl is so done.
"You're a joke. The man you're touching just got done eye-fucking me for eating food, this restaurant you're standing in is owned by my father, and that attitude you have is built on a lie.
So I would appreciate it if you could stop eye-fucking him before I take this fork and shove it up your loose-" My words stop as there is a dark motion behind her.
Before I can register what I am seeing I scream, "DOWN." Just as there is an explosion through the air.
I look back to find the server on the ground in pieces. In unison Blake and I flip the table and use it as shelter.
"Eye-fucking?" He asks with a suggestive smirk.
"Shut up." I retort with a snort.
“Everly, the last thing I want to be doing is eye-fucking you." He chuckles, adding emphasis to the word eye.
I roll my eyes and shoot him a glare. We load and cock our guns in preparation.
"How many?" I ask over the bangs ringing through the air.
"Uh, looks like 6. Maybe 7 shooters." He looks around before answering.
Well this will be easy. They picked the two worst people to be up against. Together we stand and start shooting. Within seconds we have 4 down. I look over to find Blake looking directly at my ass from his crouched position.
“Stop staring at my ass!” I yell towards him. This snaps him out of his trance.
“Never.” That comment brings me back to what Ghost said. I shake the thoughts from my mind.
Like a schoolgirl, I cast my sights over Blake.
Time appears to stand still as I take in his presence.
Dressed in a navy blue dress shirt rolled up at the elbows and black slacks, he looks handsome even in the midst of gun fire.
I watch as the kickback of his Glock jaunts his arms subtlety.
The way his veiny forearms have a mosaic of tattoos covering them.
Suddenly, there's motion behind Blake and I throw my weight to knock him out of the way.
Hand to hand it is. I spin and kick them in the face and they block it.
They use my ankle as leverage to drop me.
Fuck. I am throwing punches and suddenly they are pulled from my body.
Blake shoves a blade into their neck and tosses their body.
"Thanks." I half heartedly offer.
“Who’s eye-fucking who now?” He laughs. I roll my eyes.
There are two left. We each take one. These guys are good, quick and precise.
I’m pleasantly surprised at Blake’s skills; he’s exceptionally better than he lets on.
I’d even argue, as good as me. After a few seconds I am able to reach for my gun and get it to their head.
Bang. They drop and I turn to Blake. We run towards the parking lot as bullets keep raining.
"Where are they coming from?" He asks. I look around as best as I can.
"I can't tell. Everywhere." I press a button on my key fob and my car comes screeching into view.
"Well, aren't you fancy?" I knew the self drive setting was a worthy upgrade.
"Get in!" I yell.
Once inside, bullets continue to fly but they bounce off my car like heavy rain. I peel out of the parking lot as my foot touches the floor. Just as I think we might be in the clear, three military grade hummers and two armored cars come into view. Great, hope they like the chase.