Page 40 of Tempted to Rebel

Rebel

When I pullinto the garage after a long night of schmoozing rich fucks in expensive suits and their dick-starved, whoring wives, the club is in full swing. Music thrums through the walls and the floor vibrates with the club’s erratic heartbeat. Mikhail Monrovia insists that he had the “best of the best” architects build the place, but after a few years of excessive partying day in and day out, the cracks are starting to show. He wouldn’t admit it, but I see it.

I live here, for fuck’s sake.

It’s not my job to maintain a fucking building. We pay people for that shit. Still…

I glance up at the ceiling, knowing that somewhere up there, Celia is waiting. Likely brooding, much like Rage does, that little furrow between her eyebrows begging for me to smooth it over with a kiss. For an independent woman, she worries a lot. About her boutique. About her family. And now, about the baby.

As I toss my keys onto a workbench, I wonder what it will be like to have a baby around. Can you raise a baby over a club? What kind of life will the kid have if sex swings and strobe lights become the normal? Not thatmyupbringing was any morenormal than its will be—but at least it won’t suffer abuse at the hands of its father.

Fathers.With an S.

I scratch the back of my neck as I ignore the party and trod upstairs to the second floor. If the baby is Rage’s, will he share responsibilities? Or will he expect Celia to do all the work while I sit around with my thumb up my ass? Shaking my head, I quickly decide that no matter what, Celia won’t be raising her baby alone. She deserves better than that. How shitty would it be to finally become a mother but have zero support?

Not that Rage wouldn’t support her, but the man is busier than he lets on. The club doesn’t actually run itself, and to top it off, we’re still at Ezra’s beck-and-call twenty-four seven. Our boss has cooled off since he got with thepakhan’s girl Valentina, thank Christ, but it’s only a matter of time before the honeymoon phase ends and I’m smashing kneecaps with a baseball bat again.

I don’t particularly miss that part of my job.

It’s strange how much a single person can change everything.

It’s strange how much Ilikeit.

As soon as I step inside our apartment, I strip down to my birthday suit, tossing my clothes wherever the fuck they land. I have no patience for stuffy colognes and cloyingly sweet perfumes, preferring a natural, clean scent, yet every time I come back from one of our gambling halls, I reek of them. Downing an entire water bottle and grabbing a second for the bedroom, I spare a moment to check on Celia inside her cage. She’s awfully quiet for a woman who hates the damn thing?—

I squint in the darkness, expecting to find her hiding beneath a mountain of blankets, only to notice that she’s missing.

My first guess is that she’s in Rage’s room, the fuckinghog.The bastard’s probably got her wrapped up in his arms again, or cuffed to his headboard, or sucking his cock?—

I step into my bedroom and jump out of my goddamn skin. “Jesus, dude, what the fuck!”

Ruin is standing silently over my bed, staring into the darkness.

“What, did they fuck on my bed?” I give him a once-over, checking where his head’s at. Sometimes it’s hard to read him, but lately what’s been throwing me off is how often he’s been around. Ezra hasn’t been giving him targets, and the idle time could be fucking with his mental state. He’s usually best with a knife in his hand and a target to hunt. Everything seems normal, except—“What happened to you?” His gloves are suspiciously missing, and a bandage covers his right hand. “Did someone actually stab you back?”

He grunts.

Sighing, I shoulder past him and head for the bathroom. “Yeah, well, don’t let them get too close, alright? Do you have a new target, or something?”

“There is only one target.”

Ah, right. Dad.

I leave the bathroom door open and turn on the shower. “How’s that going?”

Silence. But I never expect too much with conversation from Ruin. I rinse all of the perfumes and colognes from my hair and soap up my entire body, ready to crawl into bed and pass the fuck out. Taking Celia to the diner and then the car lot last night was worth it—a thousand fucking times worth it—but staying out all night takes its toll. Not to mention the fifty ounces of vodka I drank twenty-four hours ago.

My stomach churns and I quickly switch to other thoughts. Like how happy Celia looked at the doctor’s office—no, not quite happy, maybe like… hopeful. She clearly knew Wren and they have rapport with each other, which is a good thing, because if she stays with us, he’ll be her primary and secondary doctor.Really, he’ll be her only one, more than likely, just like he is for the rest of us.

I wonder what it’ll be like, living with Celia full time.

Visiting her at home was fun and all, but it’ll be even better to keep her inmybed and show her whatmylife is all about. The diner was only the beginning—I can’t wait to show her all the other secrets the strip has in store.

I smile as I imagine her in the tattoo shop with me, a baby on her hip while I get new ink. Something significant. Maybe her initials—or the baby’s.

Who’s gonna name it once it’s born?

When I stumble back into my bedroom, I’m not surprised to find Ruin still standing there in the dark, but Iamsurprised once I realize what he’s staring at… or who.

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