Graham
M y fingers dig at the knot at my neck, ripping through the Windsor with more force than necessary then throwing it across the room along with my jacket. I scrub my hands over my face, ripping them through my hair before shoving them in my pockets and rocking back on my heels. My head falls back as I stare at the ceiling, wondering how badly I fucked up.
I knew—fucking knew— not to go to that studio. My head was a goddamn train wreck before I ever sat behind the wheel of the car, but after what I’d just heard, I needed to see her. To put my eyes on her and know she was okay.
The impromptu meeting I had today threw me off. The moment the unexpected name flashed across my phone, my stomach became a thrill ride of the worst kind.
I cross the room to the bottle of scotch sitting on the counter. I’m half tempted to just drink from the bottle, but that’s the last thing I need right now. Because why not add to the building worry festering in my gut? Of course, the alcohol won’t help with the twisting. Maybe I need antacids instead.
I pour a few fingers into a glass and add more ice than necessary before I go toward the bedroom. When I reach the door, my feet won’t move. I don’t want to go in there if she’s not here. The idea depresses me.
A heavy sigh slips past my lips as I turn around, going back to the living room. Leaving the room dark because I want to wallow in my self-imposed misery, I sit in the white armchair—I wonder which of these two girls thought white furniture was a good idea? I take a sip of my drink, then rest the glass against my aching fucking balls because they’ve been blue since the goddamn dance studio.
My dick doesn’t even react to the cold. Or not the way I want. “You need to fucking chill.” I order it to go down. He twitches, laughing at my absurd request because he’s ready to go every time I think of her. The urge—the need to bend her to my will was overwhelming, clouding my judgment, and causing me to overreact. My dick was a steel pipe begging me to bend her over and fuck the fight right out of her. Fucking traitor.
He didn’t get the message. I don’t want her fight gone. It may only come out with me, but it comes out strong. She stands up for herself with me, and even though at that moment it drove me nuts, it also made me proud.
But if I’m not careful, I’m going to cross a line I can’t return from. I can’t tell her she has all the power one minute and strip it from her the next. I can’t demand she stand her ground with others but bow to me—well, I can, but I have to tread cautiously. I don’t want to break her, and I don’t want her scarred. Not by me.
But fuck, when she pulled away from me, not allowing me to touch her—comfort her—it was a dagger straight to my heart. And all I could think about was showing her who she belonged to.
My cock pulses in agreement. I set the glass of scotch on the table, and I grab my dick, squeezing tightly. “You need to learn time and place mother fucker.”
When she told me she wasn’t coming home with me, but going out with her friends instead, my heart became a stampede. It was a combination of panic and fear. I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, and I was irrationally terrified I’d scared her away. As much as I want her happy, I’m not sure I could ever let her go, even if it’s what she wanted. I don’t know what’s worse, the thought of scaring her so badly she runs or the thought of not caring that she’s terrified and keeping her at any cost.
That’s why I argued for a brief moment, but I could see in her eyes that she needed a minute to breathe. Then I worried I was suffocating her. Am I too much? Because fuck I know how I feel is too much. I feel insane and unhinged. This can’t be fucking healthy, but what the fuck do I do? Give her space? Create distance between us? That sounds as fun as a fucking lobotomy, which is probably what it would take to get me to chill the fuck out.
I drag the cold glass across my forehead, trying to cool the racing thoughts. She’s not scared, and she will be back. She said so. She even said we’d finish our conversation.
At least she let me drop her off at her girls’ night. She’s at some hole-in-the-wall place in Brooklyn. I walked her inside, unable to let her out of my sight. But then I saw Liam, Henry, and Thad—apparently, he is an honorary girl. It was definitely not some place you would ever catch Krista, so that was a plus.
Leaving her there like I was an outsider looking in stung, but I worried less about her safety knowing she was with people who would watch out for her.
My eyes close, and I replay the day. Specifically, what happened just before I went to her studio, ready to throw her over my shoulder and fucking run.
It took me five minutes to get from my desk to my car after Dominic Lucchese’s name flashed across my screen. I made the drive from the office to Hell’s Kitchen in record-breaking time.
I was already at a booth in the tucked-away restaurant when he walked in the door. Dominic looked much like his younger brother, but in place of Will’s mask of humor were eyes of steel. Eyes of a man who carried the weight of responsibility. I understood the look well.
“I got a phone call from a mutual friend,” he told me after he sat across from me and placed his order.
“I would hardly call him mutual considering I’ve never met him,” I replied as I sipped my scotch. “I won’t deny my surprise at your call or request for this meeting. Especially since I asked your brother to reach out to you and he refused.”
So quickly that I wondered if it were imagined, a look of sadness and pain etched across his hard features, but it vanished as he straightened in his seat. “I assume you understand who I am—what I am?” Of course, I did. It wasn’t a well-known fact the Luccheses were Mafia, but it was also the worst-kept secret. Instead of an answer, I sat quietly, staring, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say. I also wanted him to understand I wasn’t afraid of him, and if he expected quaking in my shoes or kissing his ring, he came to the wrong guy.
Seconds passed by in silence before he lifted a brow and a slow smirk spread across his face. He nodded—a sign of respect—and I did the same before he continued. “Edwin Lambert owes a lot of money to some powerful people.”
“You?” I lifted my glass to my lips once again.
The waitress appeared with his food and drink. When she left, he cut into his filet while his eyes stayed on mine. “No. My rival.” He trails off and looks away. “I understand your stepmother is involved with him. Are you close? Is she someone you care about?”
Yeah, I cared about wrapping my hands around her throat and watching the light fade from her eyes. “No. We aren’t close.”
He nodded. “Then I suppose this meeting was pointless, but I felt you should know the people he owes will get it by any means necessary, and they aren’t above taking human beings as payment. It’s one reason we are at odds. I’m against many of the old traditions, but breaking the traditions of old men is difficult.”
He kept talking, but I tuned him out. My blood had turned cold as my mind swirled. I remembered what Casey said she overheard years ago from Krista. I replayed mine and Henry’s conversation. I thought Casey would be of no interest. She’s no longer an innocent teenage girl—though I supposed Krista didn’t know that—and sex traffickers were known for not wanting anyone with tattoos because they were identifying marks. Casey didn’t have one small tattoo. She had large pieces that wouldn’t go unnoticed. But what if Krista was too stupid to realize any of that? What if Lambert was? Or worse, what if these men weren’t as selective?
“How do these men work?”
He lifted a brow, shock written across his face at my tone. It wasn’t a question despite my phrasing. He set his fork down next to his plate, lifted his napkin, and wiped his mouth. His fingers wrapped around the glass of wine he ordered with his meal, bringing it to his lips. His penetrating eyes never left mine, and I had the distinct impression he wanted me to apologize or take it back. See the error of my tone with a man like him.
The thing was, I might not be part of his world, but I would not roll over because of it either. I’d gotten my hands dirty plenty of times over the years.
And where Casey was concerned, I would kill anyone who tried to get near her. If I’d been this obsessed and consumed when she was younger, perhaps I would’ve taken care of the problem then. Because I’d sacrifice everything—my freedom, even her—if it meant no one ever hurt her again.
“Like you would imagine,” he lifted a shoulder as he folded his hands in front of him. But I didn’t want vague answers. I needed details, and I said so. He brought his hand to his mouth as he stared at me. He looked at me like I was a puzzle that needed solving. “You are not family . I’m not telling you the inner workings of my organization or what I know about my rivals. What I will tell you is they don’t follow the rules. Even within their own… industry. Be wary.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted. Honestly, it pissed me off, but the itch to get to Casey overtook me. Wasting more time when all I wanted to do was lay eyes on her wasn’t happening. So I threw a few bills on the table and stood to leave.
*****
I must’ve fallen asleep because I wake to soft lips kissing my jaw. My eyes open and bright blue eyes stare into mine with a smile. She straddles my lap, looking a hell of a lot more lucid than I feel right now. “What time is it?”
“Just after ten.”
“And you’re back already?” I sit up, gripping her waist. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
She plays with the collar of my shirt, shaking her head. “No. It was fun to go out with everyone, but it felt wrong without you. Maybe if it had just been Lily and Ash, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but…” Her nose scrunches as a playful smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “It was no fun watching everyone with their significant other when mine was here waiting for me.”
Fuck.
Fuck.
It feels ridiculous but the sense of relief that washes over me when she says that is immediate. Every muscle in my body unknots and relaxes for the first time in hours. “You weren’t the only one without someone, though. Jagger and Thad were both there.”
She gives me the funniest look I’ve ever seen her make. Blue eyes roll as disgust curls her lips. “They both ended up all but getting it on with random girls they found. They stumbled out with them after an hour or so. And I promise if I never see Thad Reynolds with his tongue down a woman’s throat again, it will be too soon.”
I chuckle as I reach up, pulling the pins from her hair. It falls in enormous waves around her shoulders, and I brush my fingers through it. She releases a satisfied breath as she shakes her head. I know how much keeping her hair up actually bothers her, but she won’t deviate from her routine. “As long as you had fun,” I tell her, as I rub my fingers through her scalp. “Sunflower, I’m sorry I lost my shit earlier. I still won’t apologize for keeping things from you or even lying if it means I keep you safe, but I shouldn’t have yelled. I definitely shouldn’t have cornered you like I did. You were upset. I should’ve calmed down and talked to you instead of acting like an asshole.”
She leans over, resting her head on my shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly letting you speak. And I’m sorry for pulling away from you. It’s not fair to punish you like that. I just…”
“You were hurt.” I kiss her head. “You felt betrayed. I’m sure it won’t be the last time I do something you don’t like, or you find out about it after the fact. But I meant what I said. I will never let anyone or anything hurt you. But, Case, we need to deal with this bullshit from your mom. Everything you were saying it was…”
“You’re right. Even as I said it, it was Mom’s voice taunting me. I guess… I guess I need to talk to my therapist about it. I never have before for fear they would tell her. And maybe out of guilt because I thought it was my fault she treated me that way.”
I squeeze her tight, wanting once again to bury her inside me. To keep her from everything bad. To erase all the awful things from her life. “It was never your fault. Not once. I know she’s your mom, Case, but the way she treats you isn’t right.”
“I know,” she whispers, then taps her head. “In here. In here,” she presses her hand against her heart, “it’s still a struggle because I do love her, . I know it doesn’t make sense to everyone, but I do.”
I nod, not knowing what else to say. Honestly, anything I could say would negate her feelings and that’s not what she needs. So I hold her close for a while, just letting the silence surround us. After a while, I hear her soft snores, so I lift her and carry her to bed. I remove her shoes and skirt she changed into before she left the studio, leaving her in the cropped t-shirt, and pull the covers over her body.
I head to the shower, jumping in and rinsing off quickly. When I return, she’s exactly as I left her. I crawl in beside her, and my chest squeezes when she immediately seeks me out. Holding her tight, I press my lips to her hair and pray this fucking need to protect and possess her doesn’t eventually bite me in the ass.