Epilogue
Soren - 1 Day
“Where have you been?” Teresa asked, rushing to follow me into my office, her heels clicking across the floor.
“Had to make my way in from Brooklyn,” I told her. “Why? What’s the matter?”
“You haven’t seen the news then?”
“What news?” I asked, moving to sit behind my desk.
“This news,” she said, dropping her tablet down on the desk in front of me.
The screen was frozen.
With a grumble, Teresa tapped the screen to make it play.
A brunette newscaster filled the screen, face serious as she started speaking.
“Breaking news out of The Bronx tonight—NYPD officials have confirmed the arrest of a 42-year-old man found in possession of a significant quantity of xylazine, the dangerous sedative commonly known on the street as 'Tranq.'"
The screen cut to B-roll of flashing lights, police tape, and a table covered in plastic baggies.
“Authorities say the suspect, Alen Hakobyan, was apprehended during a late-night raid in the Soundview neighborhood where over three kilos of drugs were seized.
“Xylazine, a powerful animal tranquilizer, is not approved for human use, and is often cut with the dangerous drug fentanyl. Tranq has been linked to a sharp rise in overdose deaths across the city.
“This is a developing story. We will continue to bring you updates as the story progresses.”
“Holy shit,” I said as Teresa snatched back the tablet and silenced it as it ran to a commercial.
“I’m no expert or anything, but I’m pretty sure 3 kilos is enough to qualify for kingpin charges,” Teresa said. “He’s not getting out.”
Before I could even wrap my head around that, my phone was ringing in my pocket.
Saff.
“Fire the lawyer,” she said in my ear as soon as I answered.
“You heard?”
“I heard. Fire the fancy lawyer. Let him navigate this with a public defender. He will get the book thrown at him.”
“Right. Yeah, I’ll get on that.”
“Get on what?” Teresa asked. “What can I do?”
“Get Sheila on the phone,” I told her, watching as the gears turned.
“On it.”
“Was this… Primo?” I asked, thinking of the man whose doorstep they said they would throw Alen at.
“Yeah. It’s not usually his style. He’s typically a lot more… gritty than that. But I guess Renz explained the situation and he decided not to involve you in… all that.”
“Okay.”
“Fire the lawyer. This all goes away. Forever.”
“Teresa is on that.”
“Of course she is,” Saff said.
“Hey, I know T and you had a tense talk—”
“I’m not mad at her. She was right, after all. And I like how much she mama-bears you. It’s sweet. There’s no hard feelings on my end.”
“I don’t think there’s any on hers either.”
“Time will tell. Okay. Go handle that.”
“I’m on it. You coming my way tonight, or should I head back to you?”
“It makes more sense for me to come to you, since your work is there. And my work is… changing.”
I expected there to be more grief for her at stepping back from the world and the job she worked so hard on for so many years. Maybe there would be eventually. But we’d done little but discuss the future once we had sex and I finished making breakfast the day before. All I saw from her was excitement and planning. She was already talking about other clubs, expanding, taking a more direct role in the planning and running of them.
She’d even come up with the perfect name for our current project.
The tongue-in-cheek Alibi .
Once her capo position was handed off to someone new—she suspected Bastian—she would be fully, officially, out of the family. While still retaining a professional connection and her close relationships.
I couldn’t help but love the idea of her being out of any direct mafia role. Her hard life had prepared her for such a hard job. But I wanted to give her a soft future. Luxury and comfort and safety. She deserved that after all she’d been through.
“Sheila on two,” Teresa called, pulling me out of my swirling thoughts.
I picked up the phone and informed Sheila that Alen was no longer her client. She’d been relieved at that information because she said his case wasn’t winnable.
It was all over.
Years of being indebted to a man who had become increasingly unhinged, of being forced to funnel his money through my clubs, to pay for his attorney, to worry he might expose me at any point.
Sure, there was a chance that he could still run his mouth in prison. But no one was going to believe him. And, I imagined, if he got too loud, both the Lombardi and Esposito families had people on the inside to silence him.
I was free.
Saff was free.
And we could build a future together.
Even if that meant throwing out my nutmeg.
Saff - 4 weeks
I had clothes in Soren’s closet.
My toothbrush was in his drawer.
My books were piling up all over the surfaces of the apartment.
I’d all but moved in without actually moving in.
It was strange to go from ‘no back-to-backs’ to going a full week without heading back to my apartment.
Little by little, Soren’s place started to feel more like home than my own.
Each time thoughts like that rose up, there was an immediate clenching in my stomach—my old traumas trying to come to the surface.
I had to actively remind myself that I was safe, that he was safe, that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Just because I was staying at his place didn’t mean that I was giving up something. If anything, it meant I was building something better.
“Your Chinese place is fancy,” I called as I walked out of the elevator with the bag. “There weren’t any pictures on the wall behind the counter. Where are you?”
I dropped the bag on the kitchen island, then heard a slamming sound and a curse coming from upstairs.
I didn’t stop to think.
I reached into the knife drawer, drew out the biggest chef’s knife that I knew Soren kept scalpel sharp, kicked off my shoes, then rushed up the steps in my socks.
My heart was hammering as I turned away from the primary bedroom and toward the other two bedrooms.
They were both empty spaces, save for Soren’s luggage. He said he pictured a kid or two in the future, and wanted space for them.
I’d never given much thought to kids.
But I was suddenly picturing a little him walking around. The three of us cuddled up on the couch reading storybooks. Going to the zoo. The museums. Vacations to Disney. All the things neither Soren nor I had gotten in our own childhoods.
There was another slam coming from the bedroom closest to the stairs, making my stomach drop and my spine straighten.
I moved in front of the mostly closed door, took a deep breath, then threw it open with the knife raised.
“Get off him,” I yelled before I could see what was going on.
Soren, sitting on the floor among a pile of wood and tools, turned, brows pinched.
His gaze slid from my face to the knife in my hand.
A slow smile spread.
“What are you here to save me from, darlin’? The bookcases?”
“Bookcases?” I asked, lowering my arm to my side.
His hand waved around the room.
Sure enough, the formerly empty, white-walled room was now lined in floor-to-ceiling black bookcases. The bottoms featured storage cabinets. But there was almost endless space for actual books.
And Soren wasn’t even done building them yet.
“I only have two more to go. I figured we’d leave that space open,” he said, gesturing, “to put your reading chair in. Or, if you don’t intend to give up your place, we can buy a new one to put here. But we definitely need book storage. Even if just for all the new books you keep buying.”
He was being so careful to not pressure me, to open up the potential for me to make a home here, but also not demand I give up my old one.
That alone made me suddenly feel like I could do it. Drag all my books, pillows, blankets, everything I owned and loved, and move it here.
“How… when have you been doing this?”
“When I was supposed to be going to the gym each morning.”
Right.
At five in the morning, when we both knew I was not going to be awake.
“So, I hope you don’t mind a hangover waistline,” he said, patting his stomach.
“Oh, I think you’re still getting plenty of workouts,” I said, moving over toward him, dropping my knife, then pulling the screwdriver out of his hand and tossing it aside before climbing onto his lap.
“Thank you for building me a library,” I said, surprised when water flooded my eyes.
“I want to encourage your dirty reading habits,” he said, his hands sinking into my ass and dragging me against his lap, where I could feel his appreciation growing. “We both benefit from your… voracious appetite,” he added, his lips going to my neck.
His lips went to mine, kissing me long and deep until I was rocking against his cock, until the need was too strong to delay any longer.
I pushed him flat, then slid out of my pants and panties, before reaching to free him.
His eyes were endless pools of need as I lowered myself down and sucked him into my mouth.
His hips bucked up, making me take him deeper as his hands grabbed the sides of my head, guiding me into the pace he wanted.
His hand shifted to my hair, grabbing, and dragging me up until I moved to straddle him, then take him in.
We both gasped as I lowered down.
There was nothing slow or sweet about how our bodies moved together then.
I rode him hard and fast.
His hips bucked up into mine.
Then we came together, me crying out, him groaning my name.
I fell forward into him after, panting into his neck as his arm rested across my hips.
“I’m gonna venture a guess that you rode me like that because there is food waiting for us downstairs.”
The laugh bubbled up and out as I pushed back to look down at him.
“You know me too well,” I said, smiling.
He slapped my ass. Then I climbed off of him and rushed into the bathroom while he got himself together.
When I made it downstairs, Soren already had the cartons spread out across the coffee table and one of our shows playing on the TV.
“I figure we eat most of this, watch two shows, then spend the rest of night in bed reading that zombie romcom.”
God, if I hadn’t already been in love with the man, I’d have fallen right that moment.
Soren - 6 months
It was the club’s soft opening.
Thanks almost entirely to Saff’s project management skills.
She’d taken to the role with an impressive amount of gusto and skill.
Apparently, working as a mafia capo for years gave her an incredible ability to motivate large groups of men And her hardass, take-no-shit demeanor meant they didn’t give her the runaround.
In such a short time, she’d gone from pretending to be a businesswoman in awful clothes to an actual one in jeans and t-shirts.
Amato Holdings went from a hideous, impersonal office in a shitty building, to a whole floor in my building, with her touches in every inch of the place.
I’d been the one to suggest she legitimately start her own business. I thought she needed that to really feel like she was legit. And to not feel like I had a say in what she was doing. Sure, we were working on Alibi together, but this would allow her to pursue other ventures on her own. Or to continue to work with me. Whatever she wanted to do.
She and Teresa were getting along well. They even teamed up against me on occasion. And T was the one to set up Saff with her own insanely capable receptionist that would help her grow her business.
I leaned over the VIP section railing, watching the bodies moving together on the dance floor.
Even with such a crush of people and the dark lighting, I could make out Saff as she walked through the crowd, her arms up wide with a glass in each.
She was in the same dress she’d been in when we’d done club research months ago. But she had her hair twisted up in a claw clip so it wasn’t bothering her while she was working.
When the strobe lights washed over her, the glittery lotion she’d swiped on her chest and shoulders flashed vibrantly.
I still couldn’t get over how gorgeous she was.
And that I got to have her.
A man moved in toward her but all it took was an icy look from Saff to make him hold up his hands and fall back into the crowd.
She paused to say something to the bouncer standing at the bottom of the steps, then she was making her way up.
I moved away from the railing, going over to sit on one of the couches to wait for her.
“Hopefully there’s something left in these,” she yelled to be heard over the bass that was throbbing through our feet and into our bodies. “It’s wild down there,” she added, handing me a glass as she sat down beside me.
I drained my drink and set it on the table so my hands were free to grab her legs and pull them over my lap. A smile tugged at my lips at the black ballet flats she’d put on because There’s no way I am walking a marathon around that place with ice picks strapped to my feet.
“How’s everything down there?” I asked, slipping her shoe off and rubbing her tired soles.
We were alone in the VIP section for the night.
We had a couple celebrities interested in coming, but we pushed them off until the official open, so we could have the balcony to ourselves to observe the goings on.
“They’re good. The newer bartender is stressed but the seasoned one is picking up the slack. She’ll learn. She’s made of tough stuff.”
The newer bartender was a passion project of Saff’s.
Just like with the Gallagher boys, Saff could never turn away a kid who looked like they’d fallen on hard times. Or simply lived hard lives.
The bartender, Cass, had just turned nineteen a week ago and had been thrust into bartender training and alcohol safety serving classes.
Saff had found her living near a bodega, getting hassled by a couple of assholes who saw a young, pretty, defenseless woman and figured they could get away with anything they wanted.
She took her back to Brooklyn, cleaned her up, tossed her into her old apartment, and told her she was about to be making a fortune in tips.
I had a feeling our future was going to involve a lot of similar stories. And given our pasts, I was all too happy to give back and give some kids like the ones we’d once been the leg up they needed in life.
“I have no doubt. Your gut is almost as accurate as mine,” I said.
To that, Saff whacked me in the chest with her knee.
Which just so happened to part her legs.
And I couldn’t exactly turn down an invitation like that, now, could I?
My fingertips danced across her ankle, then slid inward and up, teasing up her calf, the side of her knee, and, finally, her inner thigh.
Saff’s eyes sparked as she let her leg fall open for me while my finger traced the line of her panties.
My other hand moved around her body to grab the bodice of her dress and pull it down, exposing her completely, making a shiver rack her system.
I couldn’t hear, but could feel the moan as it escaped her.
My hand closed around her breast, squeezing until her head fell back, then rolling her nipple with my thumb and forefinger.
I was in no rush.
I always loved exploring her, getting her weepy with need. And I was loving it a little more right then—sitting in the club we’d built together, the whole place packed, everyone oblivious to what I was doing to her just a few feet away.
Saff had other ideas, though, as the need spread through her system.
Her hand moved between her legs, closing over mine, and forcing it to press against the wet material of her panties.
Her fingers pressed down on mine, rubbing them against her clit.
When she arched back and her mouth parted on a moan, I was done playing.
My fingers slid under the material, teasing up her cleft to work her clit with my thumb as two of my fingers thrust inside her pussy.
Her walls tightened as I started to thrust in time with the pulsing beat of the music.
Too overcome even to hold herself up anymore, she moved flat onto the couch, her back arching, her breasts bouncing as she rocked against my palm, getting closer and closer.
Until, with a whole-body shudder, she came.
I was too far gone to care about the best positions to use to make sure no one happened upon us.
I just pulled my hand out of her panties, tugged them down her legs, then worked to free myself.
I came over her, eyes locked, then thrust hard and deep.
We were both beyond anything even resembling self-control.
Her hips slammed down as I slammed deep, taking me as deep as she could with each thrust.
Her heels dug into my ass, keeping me deep as I fucked her, feeling her pussy getting tighter and tighter with each passing moment until, with a cry I could even hear over the music, she came, her walls pulsing hard, making me come with her.
I pulled away afterward, tucking myself away, then finding her panties and pulling them back into place.
I gave her a smile as I pulled her onto my lap, my lips down by her ear. “I love the thought of my come inside you as you walk through our club,” I said, feeling a shiver move through her at the dirty words.
My hand moved up, gliding over her bare chest, loving that she hadn’t even tried to cover them yet.
“We’re supposed to be working,” she reminded me, but made no move to get up. Or even brush my hand away as my fingers circled her nipple.
“Darlin’, we’re the bosses. Our job was to work our asses off until we open. Then it’s the manager’s problem. We get to sit pretty and count our cash.”
“Until the next one,” she said.
“Until the next one,” I agreed.
“I was thinking… Long Island.”
“Teresa put you up to that, didn’t she?”
“Maybe,” Saff admitted with a smile as I tugged her bodice back into place. “But I still like the idea. Though, it might have to take a backseat for me to the book bar.”
“Book bar?”
“Yep. I’m opening a book bar.”
I had no idea what that was.
But I did know with Saff at the helm, it was sure to be a massive success.