Page 86 of Coerced Queen

Saverio guides me along the gallery with his hand on the small of my back.The men step aside for us to pass.As we walk through the club side by side, the smell of champagne on our skins a reminder of our complicity in the secret we share, the men pat my shoulder, offering quiet acceptance.I see the way they look at me, with respect, and I know.I’m no longer simply a bookkeeper or Saverio’s wife.

I’m one of them.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Saverio

Now that I’ve broken the ice and everyone has stared to their hearts’ content, I return to work in the office at After Dark.I exchange my sweatpants and jeans for my habitual suits, and it’s good to feel almost human again.

Anya and Dante were right.The men needed to see me.They needed reassurance that their comrades will be avenged and that I’m capable of leading them to victory when we go up against the Morellis.Everyone seems relieved that I’m back, so much so that I agree to hang around for drinks after work.

When Livy’s day shift at the bar comes to an end and she and Anya leave with Claire, escorted by a small army of course, I have a round with Dante and the guys who aren’t on duty.The music is pumping, and the club is fuller than it’s been of late.At least that’s what everyone tells me because I haven’t been here to witness the decline for myself.

Slowly but surely, the dust is settling after the attack.Raphael is still being a fucker, threatening my suppliers with their families’ lives if they sell alcohol to me, but Dante got a couple of local companies on board.We’ll weaken the Morellis little by little until we’re not only back where we started but worth double our annual turnover.

The men dissipate to the private lounge for a game of darts and to continue their celebration in privacy.I stay at the lower bar, observing the patrons and thinking about changes.When Luigi died, I inherited his half of the shares, which makes me the sole owner of After Dark.It was the agreement we signed in which Rachele was handed over as a part of the package deal.Now that Luigi is gone, I can make changes and do renovations.The first things that will go are those tacky portraits that are a cross between vulgarity and artistry.Unlike Luigi, my taste in art isn’t vulgar.

“Another one, boss?”the barman, Roy, asks.

Sliding onto one of the barstools at the counter, I shake my head.“I’ve got a workout early tomorrow morning.”

He pours a glass of water and puts it in front of me.“It looks weird if you sit at the bar without a drink in your hands.”

My lips quirk.“Not if you’re the owner.”

“How is it?”He chucks a dishcloth over his shoulder and crosses his arms.“The physio?”

“Physiotherapists are demons straight from hell.They love to torture people, and they do it with a smile.Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

He chuckles.“In that case, I want one myself.”

“Masochistic much?”

“Submissive.”He waggles his eyebrows.“Actively looking for a sadistic dominatrix.”

“Maybe you should try a sex club, but if I hear of someone, I’ll let you know.”

“Much appreciated, boss,” he teases.

The elevator doors open.A tall bulk of a man with graying sideburns enters.He wears a black shirt under an expensive charcoal-gray suit with even more expensive shoes.A thick gold chain hangs around his neck.The man behind him is dressed in gray too, but this one is a guard.

I narrow my gaze at Benson Bennett, my spine going stiff and my body tensing in the way it does when my fighting instinct kicks in.

Adjusting his cuffs, he looks around the room.His silver eyes are observant.Intelligent.He takes everything in at a glance, from the security on the floor to the willing single females.

When he moves forward, the guard at his heel follows.He weaves across the floor and makes his way to the bar.

Choosing the spot next to me, he leans his elbows on the counter and shoots a polished smile at Roy.“Your best scotch, neat.”

I study his profile—the straight, hawk-like nose and sharp jaw.The crinkles at the corner of his eye are a giveaway of his age.Other than that, he looks like a man in the prime of his life.Maybe a little over his prime but definitely in the most powerful phase of his life.He carries himself like a man who amassed power and fortune, a man who can have anything he wants.Except for my wife.And if that’s why he’s here, to accuse Anya of cheating, I’ll be forced to gun him down right here in front of all these witnesses.

He drums his fingers on the counter, drawing my attention to the gold ring with the coat of arms on his forefinger.It’s either a family crest or a gang emblem.I’ve never been interested enough in him to find out.

Turning my way, he crosses his ankles.His stance is both casual and arrogant.“Mr.De Luca, I presume.”

I laugh, sipping my water, wishing it was something stronger after all.“It’s hard to get that one wrong.”

He points a finger at my face.“You mean the eyepatch.”

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