XXIV
Theo Rocco
“ Well, fucking get them here,” I growl into my phone before hanging up. Throwing it down on the desk in front of me, I lean back in my chair and rub a hand down my face. It creaks under my weight but I ignore it.
“Did Sean say anything?” Dawson asks as he walks into the office. I shake my head and he frowns, sitting down at the desk opposite me.
I’ve been sitting in the warehouse for hours now, on the phone with multiple informants I have with the Russian Mafia, in the hopes someone knows something useful. After threatening multiple lives, it’s become clear that something is stopping them from being completely honest with me.
“What are you going to do?” Dawson asks as he lights a cigarette before passing it to me.
“What I do best,” I answer, trying not to grin.
“I’ll call the cleanup crew to be on standby.”
We sit in silence for a while as we busy ourselves with work that has been piling up over the past few weeks. After about half an hour, Andros comes in with his head buried in his phone.
“We need to talk,” he mutters as he sits down on one of the spare chairs in the office. It’s not the grandest of spaces, mainly just four walls within the warehouse where we can discuss matters in private. With two desks that we use interchangeably, depending on who is here, and two empty chairs, the space looks pretty bland. We haven’t even painted, so the steel walls of the warehouse exterior act as the only decoration.
“What’s wrong?” I sigh as I lock my phone again and turn to face him.
“Is this about Atlas and Hazel?” Dawson asks, a quizzical expression on his face. Andros nods and I frown.
I hate getting involved in Atlas’ mood swings. He’s a stubborn motherfucker when he wants to be.
“He’s got to tell her soon, right?” Andros asks. I shrug and run my hand over my face again.
I need a fucking holiday.
“Do you think she will just figure it out on her own?” Dawson’s voice is hopeful despite the hopeless cringe on his face.
“Oh yeah, her first guess would definitely be that the guys she’s living with run the Italian Mafia,” I drawl sarcastically, earning a glower from Dawson.
“Well, Atlas doesn’t want to tell her. You saw how he was when she asked about the other businesses,” Dawson bites back, cracking his knuckles.
“So, what do we do? We can’t go around him and tell her,” Andros replies with a puzzled face.
“I’ll talk to him,” I groan, regretting my life choices.
Being his right hand gives me all the glamorous jobs.
They both nod as a text chimes through on my phone. Checking it, I grin and look at Dawson. He smirks as he reads my face, and we both stand.
“Time to torture?” Andros asks with an eyebrow raised.
“Oh yes!” Dawson rubs his hands together gleefully. Andros laughs as we walk out and head down to the cells.
Within an hour and a half, the two of us have killed three people, and gained information from several more. Our suits are completely covered in blood and sweat, but we both relish in the smell of defeat and desperation.
A quick shower rids me of the mess so that we can go home to Hazel, without any signs of our ‘day job’. My senses are on high alert as Dawson pushes the front door to our house open, and I freeze in the hallway.
A blur of ebony hair whizzes past me and I watch in shock as Hazel runs past with a bunch of pillows. When she returns to my line of sight, I notice the messy bun she’s sporting, along with a matching pyjama camisole and bottoms. They have small pink florals on, against a white background.
“Welcome back. I’m forcing everyone to movie night since you all forced me to stay here,” she smiles mischievously and I can’t help but raise my eyebrows.
“Don’t look at me like that. Now, get changed out of the suits that you definitely did not leave in this morning, and come back when you’re in something comfortable,” she instructs, giving no room to argue.
By the time I return downstairs in a pair of grey sweatpants, she has transformed our cinema room into a glorified den. When I noticed the duvet cover from my bed missing in my room, I certainly didn’t expect it to be on the floor in this dark room, along with everyone else’s.
An array of snacks covers the sidebar, including popcorn and fizzy sweets. When I raise an eyebrow at Dawson, who is filling a bowl of food, he laughs and throws a piece of popcorn at me.
Hazel has settled herself cross-legged in the middle of the blankets, so I go to sit next to her. Stretching back to rest on my forearms, I smirk as her eyes run over my tattooed chest. She blushes as she shamelessly stares at each abdominal muscle, before meeting my eyes and blushing even more.
Dawson sits directly behind her, grabbing onto her waist and forcing her to sit between his legs. He gives me a triumphant smirk, making me scoff and Andros roll his eyes as he sits next to Dawson.
Atlas is the last to arrive, looking incredibly put out that something has been planned without his say-so. Reluctantly, he takes a seat on one of the chairs that has been pushed out the way, earning himself a disgruntled glare from Hazel.
“What are we watching?” Andros asks as he pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth. I reach around and steal a sweet from his bowl before relaxing again.
“Just watch and enjoy,” she smiles as she presses play on the remote. Loud music plays out from the surround sound speakers as the screen springs to life. I read the title off the screen and we all groan as Hazel giggles.
The fucking Princess Diaries?
Four mafia men watching The Princess Diaries.
Fuck sake.
Andros sends me a pained expression and I look over to Atlas to see he is clenching his fists and jaw.
“Just give it a chance,” Hazel pleads, staring at him with wide eyes. He glares for a few seconds before relenting and giving her a reluctant nod. Settling back into Dawson’s chest, she wraps a blanket around herself and watches the screen with deep infatuation for the storyline.
I find myself watching her. A few strands of hair have fallen from her messy bun, shaping her soft features. She nibbles at her bottom lip, an array of expressions flitting across her face as the lights from the screen illuminate her.
After about ten minutes, she shifts her position until her head is using one of Dawson’s thighs as a pillow, and her legs are splayed over mine. Absentmindedly, I reach under the blanket and rub her feet, enjoying the soft moans she elicits.
Her eyelids begin to flutter closed halfway through the movie, before her soft sighs sound out. Once I’m sure she’s asleep, I look over to Atlas to see he’s staring at her with longing and adoration.
We’re already over our heads for this girl.
“Atlas,” I call, my voice quiet so as to not wake up Hazel. He snaps his eyes up to me and changes his facial expression back to his usual before sighing.
“I know, I know,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’ll tell her.”
I nod my head and turn my attention back to the screen, my attention strangely encapsulated by the chick flick Hazel put on.
When the movie finishes, I leave Dawson and Andros in the cinema. They had both fallen asleep not long after Hazel and their snores were incredibly annoying. Carrying Hazel up to my room, Atlas disappears into his office with a stressed expression.
After I tuck Hazel into my bed, I climb in beside her and position myself to curl up against her back, letting sleep claim me peacefully with my girl by my side.