Page 32 of Dangerous Deceit

“But you know, if there’s one rule I appreciate from the motherland, it’s this: you don’t touch another man’s things,especiallynot his woman.” I press my teeth to his ear, and I’mthisfucking close to ripping it off with my canines. He flinches, but I don’t give a damn. I want him to feel every uncomfortable second. Even if Vi is simply my date for high-society events, she’s stillmine.

“I thought you would’ve learned from your uncle,” I chuckle, my grip crushing Patrick’s shoulder. “But there’s a reason they don’t want me on enforcement.” I click my teeth. “Do you want to find out why?”

His head jerks to the side, and I take that as a “no.”

“Good. Because if I find out you hurt Vi, you won’t breathe again,” I say.

“I didn’t touch her,” he says, but his chest shudders, his pupils dilating in fear. “We were just talking. She’s like my sister, man.”

As if that gives him the right to make her uncomfortable.

“She’s my wife,” I say, punctuating each word.

For a second, Patrick keeps his eyes level with mine. He doesn’t piss his pants, and I have to give him credit for that, but I also want to kill him evenmore.He has a breaking point—everyone does—and a man like me can always find that final edge.

Finally, Patrick cowers and nods his head.

“Sure. Fine, man,” he says. “Your wife. Your rules. I understand.”

“Smart man,” I mock.

He walks away, but I stay put, studying him. Halfway to his table, he glances back to check if I’m still watching, and I am. For the rest of the night, I keep my eyes on him, making sure my wife is within arm’s length of me. Every time he turns around, he endures my glare. I even give him a little wink, letting uneasiness simmer inside of him.

I’m watching you, motherfucker.

An hour goes by, and eventually, the garden is filled with dancing drunk people, including Patrick and Jay.

I link my fingers with Vi.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“We can leave?” she asks. “But we haven’t?—”

“This is our wedding, isn’t it?” I ask. “Do you want to stay?”

Her eyes are big and pure, like she’s begging for a way out of this marriage, but there’s something else there too. Hesitation. A flash flood drowning her anxiety until there’s nothing left but visceral need. A raw hunger. I can smell her cunt, musky and sweet, and I want those big, washed-out eyes staring up at me as I fuck her so deep, she can barely breathe. Iwanther to be uncomfortable. I want her to know exactly what it’s going to be like with me. I want her to runnowbefore I get attached.

But she’s still here. Danger calls to her. She’s afraid of me, but she still stands up to me.What was I supposed to say? “Stop fingering me in front of everyone?”she had said after the gala, giving me her sweet little sass.

It’s what you do for your family,she had said, and that response stays with me. She protects her family, even if they don’t deserve it.

I want that for myself.

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” she says quietly. “Can we go back to your place?”

My little danger queen, running straight toward the fire.

“Let’s go,” I repeat. I pull her closer to me, and we head to the valet.

CHAPTER 17

VI

The rock musicon Kenzo’s speakers is so loud, my chest vibrates with each beat. I’m pretty sure I recognize the song from a car commercial, but we never really had music growing up. If one of Patrick and Uncle Jay’s “friends” is obsessed with a particular musician, I’m in charge of learning the ins and outs of that artist and repurposing it into bite-size information for Patrick and Uncle Jay to regurgitate as needed. But this artist isn’t in my research repertoire.

“You like Boston?” Kenzo shouts over the music. “This is a good one. ‘More Than a Feeling.’ Love this shit!”

He hits the gas pedal, slamming me back into my seat, and he sings along at the top of his lungs. Somehow, even though the music is screeching through the audio system, I can hear him sing every word. He smiles at me, and I can’t tell if he’s pleased by the song, amused by me, or if I’m making a funny face.

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