Page 23 of Blood Money

I cursed myself for giving Vito more ammunition. I should have pretended not to know. “I like to know what goes on at the club I run. There’s nothing unusual about that.”

“Right. So, when is Eddie up next?”

Why did he have to pick someone who’s schedule I couldn’t remember?

My brother chuckled. “Oops. Did you forget? That’s interesting.”

“Any chance you’re going to sleep the rest of the way back and give me some peace?”

He pulled out his phone and started up an obnoxiously loud game. “Not a chance. You know I’m rarely in bed before dawn.”

I woke up in the middle of the day covered in sweat with the bedsheets twisted around my legs. I’d been dreaming of Liam. In the dream he was naked. He was dancing just for me, then he was on his knees, his mouth around my dick. My hands were in his hair, and his mouth felt like heaven. It was everything I wanted.

I glanced down, making sure I hadn’t actually had my first wet dream in years. There was no wet spot, but if I hadn’t woken when I did, I bet there’d be a sticky mess on the sheets. As it was, they were damp with sweat and needed changing.

When I forced myself to stand, the room swam around me for a moment. That’s when I remembered downing several glasses of whiskey the night before in an attempt to keep thoughts of Liam at bay. Obviously that hadn’t fucking worked, and now my head was throbbing, the room was spinning, and I only had a few hours to take care of some business before meeting Vito at Pound.

My brother was a fucking asshole. He’d told me he was going to watch Liam dance, and I could join him or not. He knew how to rile me up like no one else, and I’d taken the fucking bait.

The second I could get Vito to leave, I was going to another bar and finding a man who would bend over for me and let me wreck him. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to know his name. I just wanted to get some relief.

I could pretend it would help me stop thinking about Liam, but I was becoming more and more sure that was impossible. I had a fucking problem. Liam was an addiction, an obsession, and that was dangerous as fuck in my world.

Though somehow Lucien, his brother Angelo, and our cousin Devil had all found a way to live with men they cared for. I had no doubt they would kill anyone who even looked at their men wrong. The few times I’d met Lucien’s boyfriend, I’d kept my eyes averted.

I picked up the whisky bottle from where I’d set it on the nightstand and took a swig. Hair of the dog was going to have to do as a cure for my hangover, I was already running late.

I pulled on last night’s jeans and dug through my drawer for a T-shirt. There was no point in putting on good clothes when I was just going to mess them up. I had a date with a man who’d tried to short us in his payment by adding fake bills to the bottom of each stack of cash he’d handed over.

I was going to enjoy doling out his punishment. I stepped into my closet, hit the button to open my weapons cache, and began to select the instruments I wanted to use on him. I was feeling particularly vicious today, thanks to not having actually gotten my dick sucked by a beautiful blond boy who’d better be following every one of my rules.

I would eat something after I’d made a mess of our delinquent client, but I picked up coffee on my way to capture him. If I didn’t have any caffeine in my system, I might end up killing him instead of just making him wish he was dead.

“You’re smiling,” Vito said.

I scowled at him.

“You never smile.”

“I was thinking about the way the asshole I just visited screamed when I stabbed my favorite knife into him.”

Vito laughed. “No, you weren’t. You’re smiling because you’re a sick fuck, and you get off on this all these men salivating, hungry to get their hands on your man, knowing they don’t have a chance, not when he’s all yours.”

I clenched my fist so I didn’t punch my brother. “I don’t own him. I just own every cent he makes.” I turned my attention back to the stage where Liam was decked out in a sequined crop top and harem pants. He had a genie’s lamp on the stage next to him, and he’d started his routine by pretending to wake up next to it, like the audience had summoned him. I wanted to shove him to his knees, make him call me master, and demand he make all my wishes come true.

“We own everything he makes.”

Vito’s comment brought me back to reality. “I’m handling this.”

“Yeah, I think you are.”

“I told you I haven’t fucking touched him.”

“Really? You expect me to believe that?”

I didn’t respond.

“It’s me, man. Your brother. You don’t have to lie to me. I’m not going to tattle on you to Pops.” When I still said nothing, he continued. “I saw you snarling as you watched Liam. You nearly broke the table apart you were gripping it so hard.”

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