Page 31 of Rotten Men

“Clock is ticking, Vince. Guy is big and all, but he looked a bit roughed up,” I tell him, hoping he understands that James, for all his size, isn’t equipped to be locked up.

“I don’t care,” Vincent deadpans.

“You should. He means something to her,” I retort, annoyed Vincent can’t put his own shit to the side and do the right thing.

“I doubt anyone means anything to Selene.”

“Vince—”

“I have to go. I have a meeting with our Irish brothers that I need to focus on,” he huffs out, irritated.

“They still giving you shit?”

“Isn’t everyone?” he says before hanging up the phone.

“Asshole,” I bite out and immediately feel like shit for thinking so ill of him.

Vince has his plate full of syndicate bullshit as it is. With the Irish and the Canadians wanting to get the ball rolling in obliterating theCosa Nostra, the Outfit is still debating if it will be more trouble than what it’s worth, and Vince is put in a corner where he has to answer to all sides, while still maintaining his authority. Being boss isn’t what it’s cracked up to be, and I should be more sympathetic to his troubles.

It isn’t easy being king.

The cab parks right at the DeLuca’s club doors, and I hand him a benjamin for his troubles. I barely step one foot inside the club, before I’m approached by its bouncer.

“Blondie’s back,” he advises.

“Where is she?”

“Had her stashed in your office for the past hour. Thought you might appreciate her being where I could keep an eye on her. That one is a bit of a troublemaker,” he adds, with a sly smile on his face.

“Don’t I know it,” I mumble and head downstairs where Selene awaits me.

When I open the door, my eyes and heart thank me for the heavenly sight.

“You’re in my seat, Red,” I groan, faking annoyance.

Selene gives me her genuine smirk and stands up, offering my seat back. She’s wearing a sweater dress with leggings underneath. The getup must have cost only fifty bucks—so unlike the girl I grew up with, who used to wear only designer clothes. Yet, without all the bells and whistles, she is still the most beautiful thing I’ve laid eyes on.

“Come here, Red.” I chuckle and lift her off the floor, just to sit her pretty, peach ass sideways on my lap.

I hold her to me, nestling my head close to her ample breasts, and just take a minute to enjoy this feeling again. Her fingers go straight to my hair, running through each strand, and I wonder if she, too, missed playing with its previously longer locks. The day I cut it off, I couldn’t help but think about her throughout the whole ordeal. It felt like a sacrilege to cut off something she loved so much. But then again, she changed her appearance as well, no longer holding the crimson locks I fell in love with. But blonde or red, she is still my Selene.

“I missed you.”

“I did too,” she hushes, placing a tender kiss on the top of my head.

“Did you?” I question, tilting her chin with my fingers toward me, wanting to see her gorgeous face lie to me.

“Every day, Dom. I missed you every day,” she replies tenderly, and God forgive me, but I believe her.

“Tell me about him.”

“About who?” she questions nervously, and I see the fear in her eyes.

“Your husband,” I answer, softly caressing her face, so she knows she is safe in my arms, regardless of the topic we’re discussing.

“Oh,” she says, relieved. “There’s nothing much to tell. He’s a good man. One of the best I know,” she explains, and I don’t miss the lack of heat behind her words.

“Do you love him?” I ask outright, after such a lukewarm explanation regarding the man she’s married to.

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