Page 93 of Reign of Psychos

It reminded me of the shit my father used to have me do.

Thea hadn’t wanted me to take on the role of honeytrap. In fact she’d argued vehemently against it, saying it was bad for my mental health, but we’d all agreed I was the best person for the job. Dario sometimes acted as a honeytrap for females, but after he’d slapped some handsy woman groping him in a bar - and got himself arrested - I’d stepped in.

Clementine needed me less now she was older, and since the private investigations business Thea and Dario had started was growing fast, it made sense for me to step in when needed. Plus I had experience, as Thea loved to remind me when I pissed her off.

Two more glasses of wine and a snooze-fest of boring chat later, it was pretty fucking obvious Melissa Fennel was far from a loyal wife. She’d made it more than clear she wanted to take me to her suite and fuck my brains out.

“So sexy,” she slurred, her hand gripping my thigh as the barman pretended not to notice. I placed my hand over hers, just in case she tried touching my dick. That was a hard limit for me. My beautiful wife was the only woman who got to touch my junk these days.

“Dar’s in position for the backup photos, so make it good, babe.” I heard the crinkle of a candy wrapper and smiled. It sounded as if Thea had succumbed to a chocolate craving, even though she swore blind she’d done a sugar detox.

I glanced over Melissa’s shoulder as she yammered on about her job. Sure enough, Dario hovered near a slots machine with his phone, looking like any other random guy here to watch the NFL game and enjoy a drink. Thea had insisted he wore a bright red MAGA baseball cap to deter any sensible female fromapproaching. It seemed to have worked, as not one woman had stepped within five feet of him.

Melissa finished her monologue and stared up at me. “Wanna go back to my room for more drinks?” She was attractive, I’d give her that, but for fuck’s sake, she had a husband who loved her at home. The poor sap had grown suspicious after a colleague hinted Melissa was playing away.

I angled my body so Dario could get a few decent shots of Melissa’s hand on my thigh and her tits practically in my face.

“Good work, babe. Now get your ass out here. I’m horny.” Thea’s husky voice through the earpiece triggered an instant erection, something Melissa noticed, much to my consternation.

“Looks like that’s a yes,” the woman beside me chuckled throatily. “I’ll just pop to the ladies’ room. Be right back.” She squeezed my leg and wobbled off.

“Thank fuck for that,” I muttered. “Tell her I got called away, yeah?” The barman smirked as I shoved a few notes at him.

“Sure, will do.”

Dario followed me back out, cackling to himself. “Still got it, Casanova,” he laughed.

“Fuck off,” I huffed, debating whether it was worth the aggravation it would cause if I punched him in the face.

Before I could act on my desire, the woman of my dreams appeared out of nowhere with a wide smile on her face. She hooked her arm in mine and pulled me away from the hotel bar toward a black town car idling at the curb.

“Hop in, I have a surprise.”

“Does it involve me fucking your brains out, wifey?”

“It might,” she admitted coyly.

My dick immediately perked up, having wilted in the short walk from the bar to the van.

“Then I’m all in!”

“Of course you fucking are,” Dario snorted as he climbed into the front passenger seat and closed the door.

Epilogue 2

Thea

Child-free time was hard to achieve with a 7-year-old who hated being away from her mama and papas. She had yet to go to a sleepover and stay the entire night. Not that we encouraged her to go to sleepovers. Kyril insisted on vetting every family whose kids showed an interest in hanging with our daughter. It was both tedious and embarrassing.

The poor girl already struggled to make friends thanks to her overbearing fathers, so when she showed up at parties with a security detail in tow, was it any wonder the other moms didn’t invite her again?

But this was our life, and security was important. Kyril might have slowly pivoted the family business into more legitimate areas, but we were all very much aware of the risks that lingered.

The main threats to our safety were long since dead and buried, nothing but worm food by now, but Kyril remained the Russian mafia heir, and if the cartel started getting ideas, all of us were in danger, especially my sweet Clementine, his only child.

For now, at least.

None of them had figured out yet another baby was on the way. I’d expected Milo to have guessed, but so far, he’d said nothing. Knowing him, he knew, but had decided not to spoil the surprise. Which was fine by me.

---