12. Vince
Vince
I n the wake of my attempted murder, three things became immediately clear: Orion was gone, the priest saved my life, and Daren Moore was a fucking watchdog worth his weight in gold.
“You don’t need to stay here,” I told him, not for the first time.
“I don’t stay,” he said, throwing an annoyed look over his shoulder.
“Why do your boyfriends even care whether I live or die?” I asked, leaning back against the soft brown leather of my couch and propping my feet up on the table. “Seems life would be easier for them if I wasn’t around.”
“If you weren’t around, someone else would take your place.” He peered out the window, then closed the blinds. “At least you’re predictable.”
“That feels rude, Daren.”
“They know you,” he corrected, clearing his throat. “ The doors and windows are all locked, there’s dinner on the counter in the kitchen, and the coffee is ready for tomorrow morning.”
“Quite the dutiful little house servant.”
Daren glared at me, and I waved him off.
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Daren took a step toward the door and paused, brow furrowed. “Do you want me to bring anyone with me?”
“Why would I want more company than you, Mr. Moore?”
His cheeks flushed. “I meant in case you wanted to watch like before.”
I chuckled, my chest warming at the offer and at the memory. “If I want to watch, I know where to find you and your band of merry men.”
“Alright.”
Daren gave me a jerky nod and let himself out of the house.
As soon as the echo of the latch died off, the silence of the house became deafening.
It had been a month since I was shot in the chest and a month since I’d seen Orion Delmar.
He was on the phone with me as I bled out in front of the church, apologizing for reasons I’d had far too much time to try and dissect.
It made sense, I supposed, that he had a hand in the attempt on my life.
He was my father’s man before mine, after all, and I’d put a bullet into the middle of my father’s head.
It was a fair kind of retribution that someone take me out in return, but I thought Orion was different.
He’d been so focused on me, on serving me, I’d thought…
It didn’t matter what I’d thought because I was wrong.
Innocent men didn’t disappear into the night after their boss and their lover took a bullet.
Orion should have been the one to change my bandages, to make my dinner, to lock my windows at night.
I appreciated that Gideon and Fletcher had loaned Daren out, that they’d even have let me fuck him if I wanted, but he wasn’t the one I lusted after.
It was Orion who occupied almost every waking moment, and even a handful of the sleeping ones.
I dreamed of him, his voice in my ear, his throat in my hand.
The priest…he took up the rest, with his loose collar and his broad shoulders.
I owed him a life and he’d asked me for dinner.
I’d been of the impression his collar wouldn’t allow him to go on a date with the head of the Angelini crime family, but maybe that was exactly what would have allowed it.
I hadn’t seen him since the night I went down to the church the first time, and I didn’t know what I’d been expecting.
The only person who showed up at my door with any regularity was Daren.
No priest.
No Orion.
With a grunt, I pushed myself up from the couch and shuffled into the kitchen, nose chasing after the smell of whatever Daren had cooked for dinner.
It was pasta with a thick and hearty Bolognese, and I climbed onto a stool and dug right in.
It was a relief my appetite had finally started to come back.
I’d lost an obscene amount of weight in the hospital, and it was going to take months to put it back on.
I ate the whole plate of spaghetti, then turned off the lights and headed into my office.
It was cold without the fire, cold without the heat of Orion’s mouth around my cock while I worked.
I sat down behind my desk and finished the organizing I’d been doing before Daren showed up.
I supposed one perk of not having Orion to distract me was that I’d gotten entirely caught up on my father’s affairs.
With North and Sinclair in the back seat, I’d realigned my own internal organization to make sure all the things my father had running were still in place.
It was mostly money collection of varying degrees, bribes and payoffs and that kind of shit you’d expect.
He had a good group of men working for him, a loyal group, Orion included apparently.
I had worried there would be blowback when they found out I was the one who killed my father, but it had only earned me more respect in the long run.
Or maybe it was just fear; I wasn’t sure.
If I’d shoot my own father in the head, who knew what I’d do to them.
With a weary sigh, I made myself comfortable in the overstuffed leather chair, reaching back to unholster my gun and set it on the desk.
I was locked in the house and utterly alone.
I didn’t need to be strapped. But five minutes later, when the door to my office creaked open, I quickly learned both of those facts were absolute lies.