Page 22 of Mafie Kings

“Right, now onto the punishment.” She attempts to talk again, but I raise my hand and glare at her. Her defiance has me picturing what it would be like to jump over the table, wrap my hand around her throat, and slam her up against the wall. I want to choke her until she submits, then spit in her mouth and mark my territory.

I take a deep breath, reigning in the horny fucker in my pants. “Since you couldn't follow simple orders today, and you continue to try and push me, I will be revoking your right to choose your clothing. The offensive words and art are very unladylike and unprofessional. That is not something we should be encouraging here. From now on, skirts with button-ups that are buttonedall the way upor dresses will be permitted. For gym wear, I will accept shorts and a shirt that isnotoffensive. You will learn to listen, or I will personally come to your suite each morning to choose your clothes for the day.”

Her posture goes stiff as she pales, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. I don't even think she's breathing right now. Her silence almost brings me a sense of peace, knowing that is a sign of submission. That is, until Lev decides to open his big fucking mouth.

“No,” Lev says, standing from his seat and walking to stand by Evie's side. He doesn't stand close, but it still feels like he is uniting with her against me.

My mouth nearly drops open at his statement. Lev has never told me no before, he's never cared enough about what we do to tell me no. He's the computer guy, the one who sits in the background and does as I ask and doesn't cause any problems. Well, until today apparently.

“What?” I ask him through gritted teeth.

He avoids my gaze and looks at Evie as he says, “I like her style, it's different. Not only that,” he continues and moves up to put his arm around Evie, making my jaw clench to the point of chipping teeth, “but not all of us will have to dress professionally in the future. We all have different skills, and I can guarantee you, Lex, that I for one will never be wearing a skirt.” He smirks at that last part, and Damien snorts. I see a small smile come to Evie's face, and she hangs her head slightly.

“What do you suggest then, Lev?” I ask. He looks at me like he wasn't expecting that response. I'm quite shocked myself, but Lev’s never taken charge or asked for anything, and I can't find it in me to deny a negotiation. She will get her attitude adjustment regardless.

He takes a moment to think about it then shrugs his shoulders, “Pick a day or an event,” he says. “One day a week, you decide what she wears.”

That's not a bad compromise. He knows my need for control at certain events means a lot to me, though that's hardly the level of control I wanted to gain. I consider his idea and adjust my stance, leaving no room for further discussion. “Every Monday I will have your outfit delivered to your door. You will wear whatever it is without question, or I will rescind this negotiation and personally pick out your outfit every day. Do you understand,Princess?”

Her head is still hanging, but she nods, and that's enough for me. For today at least.

I narrow my eyes at Lev, but he just keeps a smile on his face and his arm around our little toy. My fists are clenched as I leave the room, feeling Damien hot on my heels.

“Looks like our little Lev decided to grow a backbone today,” he says, coming to walk by my side. I shake my head, too angry to use my words.

Apparently, Evie won't be the only one who needs to learn about submission.

Chapter 12

I'm still standing in the classroom with Lev’s arm around me when Alexi walks out. Bile rises in the back of my throat from his threat. My clothes have been the only thing I’ve ever been able to control in my environment. I might not know where I'm going next or who my next hit is, but I could always decide what I wore, and comfort over style has always been my thing.

When my uncle sent me to an elite academy that had a dress code, my work suffered, and he took notice. He came to visit me one day and asked me why I was suddenly failing. He thought it was me trying to rebel against going to school, but the truth was I just couldn't focus sitting in the short skirt and button-up shirt that always made me feel like I was choking. The tie they made us wear felt like an actual noose around my neck, and the shoes weren't made for running. It was difficult to hide a blade in my clothing to which I could have easy access to, and the socks were so itchy.

By the end of the day, a sizable donation was made to the school, and the dress code was abolished.

My uncle always seemed to make time to find out what I needed to be comfortable or feel safe. He gave me unlimited access to buy whatever clothes I wanted. While some girls would use that to get overpriced Louis Vuitton shoes or purses, I would get hoodies, t-shirts, and joggers. As I got older, I started to find shirts that said things like “Fuck Off” or “Eat Shit”. I loved that because it made people think twice before approaching me.

I think a fundamental part of my brain shattered the day my parents died. Ever since then, I’ve felt the need to be prepared for any situation. My blades never leave my side and my clothes are always easy to fight or run in.

Alexi had no idea what taking that away would have done to me. If anything, it would have made me even more uncontrollable. I would have been on edge and unable to focus.

Lev seemed to know something was off, coming to my rescue right away. Which is why I’m tense. With Damien and Alexi now gone, he must think I owe him something.

Lev removes his arm and leans back against the table in front of me. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with dark ripped jeans. His tattoos wrap around both arms and peek up out of his collar ever so slightly. The shirt is form-fitting and shows off his slender waist but pulls just slightly at his muscular arms as he leans back. He tilts his head at me like he’s waiting for me to say something.

“If you think I owe you for coming to my rescue, you're wrong. I can take care of myself,” I tell him.

His eyebrows pinch before he lets out a small laugh. “Damn, Lucky Charm, I wasn't trying to help you to gain a favor or some shit. I helped you because I owed you for the good luck this morning.”

Now it's my turn to look confused. Does he think I really gave him good luck?

“How do you think I knocked out that meathead today?” he asks me. When I don't answer, because I didn't see the fight, he continues. “When you kicked down the door, like a badass I must add, that gave me an in to take him down. He was beating my ass, and I honestly wasn't expecting to win. But then you showed up, my little Lucky Charm, and distracted him just long enough for me to take him out.”

I'm not sure how to respond to that. I mean, on one hand, I'm glad he was able to win his fight. On the other hand, I really didn't do anything, and I don't like the idea of him feeling like I need to be saved. I've spent nine years learning and managing to save myself. I sure as hell don't need anyone's help now. Even if I did need it, part of me would rather die than let someone hold a favor over me.

“I guess we’re even then?” I say, more of a question than a statement. Lev just smiles at me.

“Well…” he says. My jaw clenches, and I decide I don't like this favor game. It's too unpredictable.

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