9. Sev
9
SEV
Fuck. I wipe my face surreptitiously as I walk out of the store cupboard, and duck into the gents to finish cleaning up. I don’t look myself in the eyes. I can’t.
I lost control. Well. Almost.
I didn’t fuck her until she came on my cock, so I suppose I get a gold star for restraint on that count.
Genuinely, I deserve a medal for not taking her right there. Claiming her. My erection is an iron testament to my good behaviour. Practically a monument.
I breathe in deeply as I wash my hands and wipe my face with cold water. A brief re-adjustment and I’m as suitable for company as I’m ever likely to be.
My brothers, Rafe and Vito, and Wes Matthews, are lounging in the conference room at the end of the hallway, and glance up at me when I walk in.
I shouldn’t look them in the face, and I recognise my mistake as soon as I make it. I didn’t want to see the guilt reflected back at me from the mirror, and my brothers’ identical eyes are just as bad.
“Sev.” Wes greets me with a nod.
“Have you murdered one of the staff again?” Vito asks.
I mean… In a sense, yes.
“Why were you late? What have you done?” Rafe shakes his head wearily.
“You’ll have to find out in your own time, as usual. Information couriered by glacier, no?”
“Does he send spies to work for you, as well?” Wes asks my brothers.
“It’s practically a sign of affection from Sev.” Vito turns to Wes. “He’s done it to all of us.”
“A new spy, maybe?” Rafe muses to Vito, totally ignoring me. “I think there’s that shifty expression that’s a giveaway.”
“Shall we talk business, or would you prefer to waste time in speculation about my greatness? I’m good with either.” I take a seat at the table.
“Can’t start without our note taker,” Vito says. “Where is she?”
“Delayed. But we can—” The door opens, and Maisie steps in with a bright smile, that I immediately see is brittle.
I did that. I am a fuckwit.
I’ve been so desperate since our first kiss though. I’ve sat in a car outside of her building every night, just for the sensation of being near her. I followed her on the weekend when she went shopping, and watch her on my phone when she’s at home.
“Sorry I’m late.” She takes the seat beside me, and even as I will us both to not do anything, she glances at me, and I look at her because I’m base metal and she’s a magnet.
The zap of electricity is almost audible.
For the split-second I’m looking into her eyes, all I can think of is how she looked as she came. How she tasted. How much I long to feel her come every day for the rest of my life.
I drag my gaze away to see Rafe and Vito exchange a look.
I glower at them. “Shall we get on?”
“What was the delay?” Rafe asks Maisie innocently.
“Teaching problem,” I say.
“Surveillance issue,” she replies at the same time.
“Teaching session on how to use the new surveillance software ran over,” I cover up smoothly. Maisie is blushing a little as though she’s still feeling my tongue between her legs, but covering it with a smile and efficiently tapping at her tablet. I look over at Wes, who is frowning at his daughter. But he’s not looking at me. I don’t know whether I’m relieved he doesn’t suspect anything, or furious that he dares scrutinise Maisie.
She’s mine.
Except she’s not.
“Surveillance,” Vito repeats with sarcasm so heavy it has its own gravitational pull and moon.
“Yes. And luckily for you I’ll help with your shitty security problems,” I say. “I’ve got an update on the joint laundering.”
Immediately my brothers and my friend are distracted by what Morden offers—the most efficient money laundering in London.
It’s only about an hour of meeting, but I’m aware of Maisie for every minute of it. Each second that ticks past my skin is tighter for not being pressed to her. Sometimes I think I can taste her. Smell her.
Raspberries and cream.
“I’d like a quick word with you, Maisie,” Wes says as we wrap up. I watch out of the corner of my eye.
“I can’t right now, Dad, sorry,” she replies with a sunny smile, and neatly packs up her tablet. She’s a bit flustered. Could be because she came on my face not that long ago, but my instincts say it’s something else.
Wes scowls and I feel simultaneously sorry for him, and relieved because I’m not ready for my best friend to ask his innocent daughter difficult questions about teaching or surveillance.
Wes follows Maisie out of the room, and I stand, helpless to do anything but follow. Even though he is her father, my protective instinct with Maisie is irrepressible.
“Sit down,” Rafe orders in his, “I’m the eldest” voice.
“Haven’t you got jobs and families to go to?” I snap, ignoring him. They have both. Wives they are having children with, and successful mafias.
“Thankfully for you, we also have family responsibilities of a fraternal kind,” Vito says, pushing me back into my chair.
“Is that a type of Italian mushroom?” I glare up at him.
“No, it’s the kindness to tell you to stop eating hallucinogenic mushrooms that make you think messing around with Wes Matthew’s daughter is a good idea.” Rafe rolls his eyes. “Have you regressed to having the survival instincts of mould?”
Oh. Shit.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“She’s the girl from the CCTV you watch like it’s injectable and addictive,” Vito says.
I guess she is, yes.
“You’re deluded.” But it’s a futile attempt.
“Does she know about the cameras?” Rafe asks.
I pause.
“Do not lie to me,” Rafe growls. “I will make Camden pulling out your toenails seem merciful.”
“No.” Although, as I say it, I wonder, just a bit. Why did she say surveillance? Why was that in her mind? Yes, Morden uses a lot of surveillance and cameras in our work, but still. It’s slightly odd.
“But something is happening with you two.” Vito lounges against the wall like the Italian he is. He might look identical to Rafe and me but he’s always in a sunbeam or striking an elegant pose.
“It’s complicated,” I mutter.
“We’re your brothers,” Vito says. “And I’m not putting a spy on you this time. You’re going to just tell us without me having to use pliers.”
I massage my forehead and consider my options. “If I tell you, will you go away?”
“You’re fucking her.” Rafe frowns.
“No. I love her.” The confession is out before I can stop it, and somehow, it’s a relief.
“I called it.” Vito grins like a smug bastard, and holds out his hand to Rafe, who is shaking his head.
I glare at my brothers. Technically, they are both very slightly older than me, by seconds, but you wouldn’t know it. I have more grey in my hair, more scars, and since they’ve been married, they’re both like stupid teenagers.
“You just cost me a lot of money,” Rafe grumbles to me.
I wait for the onslaught of shit about what a morally repugnant person I am, but they seem more preoccupied with settling their bet.
“Would it be suicide or murder if I told Mitcham what his friend has been doing?” Rafe says, almost to himself.
Fear and bile rise in my throat.
“Don’t. I’m not…” I can’t get the words out.
“You’re not what?” asks Vito. “And I think it’s assisted suicide,” he adds to Rafe.
“I’m not going to do anything about it.” It’s painful to say, but even worse to acknowledge.
“What? Why?” Rafe says.
“Because I prefer ongoing life.”
“We could kill him,” Rafe replies calmly. “And yeah. He’ll never accept you fucking his daughter.”
“I’m not fucking her,” I repeat.
“But you’d like to.” Vito nods. “We’ll just kill him.”
“Five minutes ago, you were his ally. I hope you don’t pull this bollocks behind my back?” I snipe.
They both look scandalised and hurt, as though I’ve suggested something really disgusting.
“You’re our brother ,” Rafe states. “I’ll fuck your shit up every day, but I’m not going to actually murder you.”
“Maim, maybe,” Vito mutters.
He’s my best friend . I don’t say that to my brothers, but Wes and I are as close as Rafe and Vito.
“Not an option.” I stand, hoping to shut down this conversation.
“If you do want to do it yourself, I can—” Vito says with infuriating reasonableness.
“No. No, it’s... Okay.” I couldn’t betray him any more than I could my brothers.
“Just you and your hand, huh?” Rafe nods sceptically. “Alright.”
“These are the choices. Death, or wanking.” Vito gives me a pitying look.
The girl who holds my heart, or my best friend. Even as she becomes so much more than a lifelong friend. “I’ll still have her working for me. She’s near, and safe.”
That has to be enough.
Maybe I can even teach her one last time. A farewell kiss.