Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
SPETTRO
The smell of smoke lingers in my nose and on my clothes, and I’m running on pure adrenaline and euphoria as we approach the doorman at Wonderland.
He’s a huge, towering beefcake with white-blond hair, a sleek white beard, and a white rabbit tattooed on his bulging bicep.
I don’t think any of us are strangers to Wonderland, but Anders seems to know the bouncer personally, giving him a fist bump and a kiss on the cheek that makes him scowl before he waves us all inside.
“Is this okay?” Sparrow asks, shouting the words next to my ear so I can hear them over the thumping bass and din of sultry, flirtatious voices permeating the air inside the club.
“I’m fine.”
I don’t think my sobriety has ever been more solid.
The constant itch of craving that lives under the surface of my skin feels like it’s damn near gone.
I’m not naive—I remember all the warnings my drug counselor gave me that I’ll always be an addict, that the feeling of wanting never fully goes away, it just gets easier to ignore over time with enough discipline.
But I think living with the specter of the Sleepless Reapers haunting me every second kept me in that place, kept me tethered to the memories of my addiction in a way that was hard to shake.
I don’t think all my problems are solved, but I have room to breathe now and space to grow into a new version of myself.
There are tables and large booths near the dance floor where you can have a drink and watch the cage dancers if that’s your thing.
They’re all full, as usual, but I’m starting to learn that a little thing like that doesn’t stop the Morettis from getting what they want.
Salvatore approaches the group seated at the booth with the best views and pulls out his wallet.
Alessio chuckles next to me, and I slide my hand up the back of his shirt again to hook my fingers around his leather harness.
My gloves are in my pocket, so I can feel the warmth of his skin for real this time, and the little shiver that runs through him.
I use my grip to tug him an inch closer, keeping him as a shield between me and all the horny drunks, but also craving the heat of his body pressed against mine for the first time in my life.
No, not the first time… It’s been a creeping thing, a growing thing that I’ve slowly gotten used to and started to ache for, ever since that morning in his bed when I pressed my bare skin against his for the first time.
Without the Reapers taking up so much of my mental space, I can fully appreciate the desire now, the longing.
“I have a confession to make,” I whisper, purposefully brushing my lips against the shell of his ear just to feel him shiver again.
“That you’re desperately in love with me?” He smirks, shifting his weight to drag the bouncy swell of his ass against my thickening cock.
My lips part on a quiet groan, and I wrap my other arm around his middle to hold him against me.
“Yes,” I growl. “But I thought you already knew that.”
He cranes his neck to bring his face close to mine, leaving just an inch of space between our mouths, that smirk on his lips begging me to taste it.
“I had a feeling, but I wanted to hear you say it.”
I bring my hand up to grip his jaw, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my fingers and the way the muscle in his jaw softens like he’s already preparing to surrender to me. A ripple of heat moves through me, pooling in my gut.
“I’m fucking desperately in love with you, Alessio.” I catch his lips in a rough kiss, swallowing the groan he feeds me and grinding my hard cock against his ass. “That wasn’t what I wanted to confess though.”
“I’m listening.” His damp lips glisten under the colorful, strobing lights.
“I’m the one who messaged you to tell you that The Ghost hangs out here.
I wanted to see you again so I could find out where the Morettis stood on the Sleepless Reaper issue.
That was my excuse, anyway. I think I really wanted to see if the chemistry we had that night at your apartment was just about the circumstances or if it was real. ”
He chuckles. “Wait, how did you even know I used that forum or what my username was?”
“I saw you on your laptop browsing through it before you jerked off using the glove I left you.” The memory of that night makes my cock twitch and my balls tighten.
Alessio’s eyes darken and a less subtle tremor runs through him that culminates in a moan.
“You were on my fire escape spying on me?”
“Yes,” I say shamelessly.
“You’re such a creep.” It’s not a complaint, it’s a compliment. If that wasn’t obvious from his tone, it would be in the way he strains his mouth towards mine again.
I’m in the mood to tease him now though, to make him ache for it before I take him home and work off all this adrenaline the fun way.
Instead of kissing him, I give a rough bite to his bottom lip, savoring the surprised gasp he lets out.
Then I let go of my hold on him and leave him scrambling after me to join the rest of the guys at the table.
Sparrow left space for us at the end. I let Alessio slide in first, and I take the last spot. Everyone already has a drink in front of them, and there are two more waiting in the center of the table, presumably for us.
Orion sits forward and nudges the glasses towards us, but I shake my head.
“Thanks, I’m good though.”
“They’re both seltzer with lime,” Dante assures me. “I watched the bartender pour them to make sure he didn’t fuck it up.”
A surprising feeling of fullness blooms inside my chest, making it hard to breathe for a few seconds.
I know he’s been making me mocktails every week, but there’s something about the gesture that hits me hard.
I take the glass and slide the other one in front of Alessio.
I’ve told him numerous times over the past month that he can drink if he wants to, but he insists that he’d rather not.
My eyes wander around the table as I take a small sip, and the fullness in my chest expands.
A few months ago, I was completely alone in the world, and I thought I liked it that way.
It was easier, I can’t deny that. It might have been lonely, but it was less scary.
I have things to lose now; friends—or at least people who are becoming friends—a brother, Alessio.
My throat tightens and I take another sip of my drink to try to clear the lump in it.
I think I was right before. Feeling alive hurts more than letting yourself be a ghost. I was wrong too though. I don’t think you get used to it and I don’t think you’re supposed to. I think it’s the price you have to pay to have things worth living for.
Alessio leans in a little after taking a sip of his own drink.
“I’m desperately in love with you too, by the way,” he whispers, and his words manage to loosen the lump in a way the drink didn’t.
“I know.” I kiss him again.
The too-much feeling is worth it for this.
ALESSIO
Spettro slides his hand up the inside of my thigh as he leans across me to chat with Sparrow, making me squirm subtly in my seat.
He’s been toying with me for hours, touching me just enough to keep my cock hard.
The leather harness drags against my skin in a tease that’s almost as delicious as his baiting touches, and the silk of my panties cradles my full, heavy balls.
If I thought it would get me anywhere, I’d whisper in his ear, begging him to take me home and fuck me until my voice is hoarse from screaming his name.
But the smirk on his lips every time I twitch or shudder tells me he’ll take me home when he’s good and ready and not a second sooner.
So I give in to the sultry torture, surrendering to the aching want in my gut and the constant throb in my needy cock.
He pauses his conversation to slide his tongue between my lips briefly, then turns his attention back to his brother.
I take a sip of my drink, which is mostly melted ice with the subtle taste of lime at this point, and enjoy the peaceful feeling of just existing without having to put on a performance for anyone else, because none of them are paying me any attention.
All the guys are so focused on their own partners that I don’t think they’d hear any dumb-ass quips I made anyway.
I wonder what Lorenzo is doing tonight. How does he like to unwind after a stressful day, or celebrate after a big win like we had with the Reapers?
Is he just sitting alone in his apartment with a glass of Scotch or is there somewhere he likes to go, somewhere he can be someone other than Lorenzo Moretti for a few hours at a time?
I don’t know why I’m thinking about the boss right now, other than because he’s the last one of us who hasn’t found some kind of happily ever after lurking in the shadows.
On Sparrow’s other side, Xaviaro pulls his phone out of his pocket and frowns at it for a minute or two, then he curses under his breath.
It’s quiet, barely audible over the loud music, but all the conversation at our table dies at once and we all go still like we’re holding our breath, waiting to hear what could have gone wrong and how fucked we might be.
“The Reapers?” Spettro asks ominously, tightening his grip on my thigh, his expression hardening instantly.
Xaviaro looks up from his phone and shakes his head. His usually stoic expression slips just enough for a chill to run through me.
“My contact in the Fitzpatricks’ organization just texted me…”
Somehow, we all know what he’s about to say. Elio goes pale, and Salvatore curses under his breath just like Xaviaro did when he read the message.
“Is he dead?” I ask quietly, and Xaviaro nods.
“He said they found Declan’s body, burned and left on Cian’s doorstep.”
My hackles go up immediately. “Cian?”
“His unhinged shitbag brother?” Dante chimes in, his voice dripping with the same suspicion that’s gathering in my gut.
“Let me guess, Cian is taking over?” Salvatore drawls.
“I’m assuming,” Xav says blandly, nudging Sparrow to encourage us all to move and let him out. “I agree, there’s something fishy as hell going on, but either way, I have to go tell Lorenzo.”
The table rocks, spilling what’s left of some people’s drinks, as Elio scrambles to get out on the other side.
“I’m coming too.”
“You know he’s not going to want to cry on your shoulder about this, right?” Salvatore says.
“I don’t give a shit. He’s my brother.”
Xaviaro grunts in understanding and gives Sparrow a quick kiss, and then he and Elio take off together. We’re all quiet for another minute, staring into our mostly empty glasses and letting the information sink in.
Shit with the Fitzpatricks was already complicated, and something tells me that Cian taking over isn’t going to improve matters. With Declan out of the equation, is Lorenzo going to finally take the kid gloves off and decide to start a war? I guess only time will tell.
Spettro clears his throat and everyone snaps out of their thoughts at once.
“I think the festive mood is officially dead,” he says with a gruff chuckle.
“Yeah, I might actually see if I can catch up with Xav and Elio. Lorenzo is going to need someone who won’t coddle him when he gets the news,” Sparrow says.
“He’s not going to take this well,” Dante mutters. “God help us all.”
“A-fucking-men,” Salvatore agrees.
“Come on.” Spettro slides out of the booth and threads his fingers between mine. “Let’s go home. The nuclear fallout can wait until tomorrow, and I’m not ready to stop celebrating just yet.”
A slow, sultry grin stretches his lips, and I let this bombshell news slip to the back of my mind for now.
He’s right, there’s nothing we can do tonight, and the people closest to Lorenzo will have his back for now.
But this is the biggest night of Spettro’s life, and he doesn’t deserve to have it ruined.
“Seltzers and death announcements weren’t your idea of a proper celebration?” I joke, letting him lead me out of the club. “Did you have something else in mind?”
He leans in and nips at the edge of my jaw. “I can think of a few things.”