Page 19 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

I s a t a c r o s sfrom Shooter, still mad, still pissed, but my hunger was louder than my pride. The food smelled too good, and my stomach had already betrayed me once. I wasn’t about to let it happen again. So, I snatched the plate, piled some food on it, grabbed a fork, and started eating, all while keeping my eyes locked on him.

Shooter was leaning back in his chair, relaxed as hell, watching me like he knew he’d won this round. Like he had all the patience in the world to wait me out. It made my skin itch.

I cut into my steak, chewing slowly before speaking. “You got rules for me,” I said, my tone sharp. “I got rules for you, too.”

Shooter lifted a brow, smirking. “That right?”

“Damn right,” I said, setting my fork down. “If you’re gonna be disappearing for days, I at least deserve to know where the hell you are.”

His smirk didn’t waver. “That’s not how this works, baby.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m your wife, remember?” I shot back, throwing his words from earlier in his face. “Or does that only count when it benefits you?”

Shooter chuckled, low and deep, shaking his head as he cut into his own food. “You really think I’m bouta give you a play-by-play of my whereabouts?”

I glared at him. “Yes.”

He chewed, swallowed, then wiped his mouth with a napkin, taking his time. “Nah.”

I huffed, reaching for my orange juice. “Of course not.”

“But,” he said, tapping his fork against the plate, “I will make sure you’re informed if I plan to be gone for more than a couple days. That fair enough for you?”

I studied him, trying to see if he was just bullshitting me. “Fine,” I muttered. “But if I call, pick up the damn phone.”

He nodded once. “Long as you don’t call me with no bullshit.”

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Whatever.”

Shooter leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. “And since we’re setting rules,” he said, voice dropping an octave, “I got one more for you.”

I tensed. “What?”

“You pull that shit again—sneakin’ out, lyin’ to my people, tryna make me look stupid?” His gaze darkened, something dangerous flickering in those blue eyes. “There will be consequences, Parker.”

A chill ran down my spine, but I lifted my chin, refusing to back down. “You don’t scare me.”

His lips twitched, like he was amused but also done with my mouth. “You’ve been warned,” he said simply, going back to his food like the conversation was over.

I clenched my jaw, gripping my fork, but I didn’t push it. For now. We ate in silence for a little while, the tension still thick, still charged. I could feel it between us, stretching, pulling. Then, my eyes landed on the half-smoked blunt sitting beside him.

I reached for it, slow and deliberate, and Shooter’s gaze lifted, watching me. I picked it up, rolled it between my fingers, then brought it to my lips to light. His jaw tightened. I inhaled deeply, the smoke burning in my lungs, and exhaled just as slowly, blowing it out, feeling my body relax almost instantly. Shooter licked his lips, his eyes darkening, heating.

I smirked. “What?”

“You tryna piss me off or turn me on?” His voice was low, thick with something I felt in my gut.

I took another hit, holding his stare. “Well, since I can’t stand you, do the math.”

Shooter let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he dragged a hand over his jaw. I passed the blunt back, but he didn’t take it. Instead, he kept looking at me like he was deciding something. Plotting. Then he sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I need you by my side tomorrow night.”

I frowned. “For what?”

“A meeting,” he said simply.

I stared at him, waiting for more. “A business meeting?” Shooter nodded. “Yourkind of business?”

His lips curled at the edges. “Ourkind of business, Mrs. Mosley.”

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