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Dawson
“Imust confess, for someone who says he’s a happily married man who is fucking every second of the day, you seem to be demanding my time and attention a lot lately. Are you sure you’re not lonely?” I say to Crue.
He flashes a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, and I know if any other fucker in this place said that to him, they’d be dead. We sit in his establishment around midday, which is also strange for Crue, almost always meeting in the early morning hours.
Various men and business partners surround us, snorting coke from the table. He takes a sip of his whiskey. And though often it’s business with Crue and me, we’re also friends.
“I didn’t realize a certain little Ricci is working at your store. What a small world,” he deadpans.
I shrug. “You know I don’t hire staff in the stores. Ihave competent managers to deal with that.” It goes without saying for my legal businesses, but my attention is always on illegal businesses and clientele. “But, surely, you didn’t call me all the way out here to talk about your new little sister-in-law?”
He considers me. “I’ve been made acutely aware that were anything to happen to her, I’d have to involve myself.”
I can’t help but offer a suave smile over the edge of my glass, and this seems to piss him off. “Wifey’s orders?” I taunt.
He grunts in reply.
I hold in my desire to laugh. Who would’ve thought a woman could control Crue Monti? Nor did I ever think he would actually settle down. But then again, I’ve met Rya and can see why it works. Contractually, yes. But to be so smitten? It’s a weakness. And yet, I’m genuinely happy for him. I wrote off any type of fairytale for myself a long time ago.
“Do you really want to discuss how Honey is settling in?” I ask as I want to know. Fuck, do I want to know what she’s up to, but I push away my interest. Because curiosity is not healthy… ever. The most I could offer was tattooing a part of her next to my cock. And I thought maybe that’d be satisfying enough, but she’s haunted my thoughts ever since.
“Just an observation, but you seem more on edge since Italy. Are your needs being met? Sex is just sex, right?” Crue says.
I don’t like his observation.
Or his insinuation.
I’d given him shit about this months ago when he started blue balling because he only wanted to fuck Rya. But when it’s on the flip side, I won’t go into detail. Because the truth is, I haven’t fucked Daphne, or anyone else, since I got back from Italy. But he doesn’t need to know that. At my silence, he continues, evidently having enjoyed his dig. Fair, considering I had done the same to him.
“I just wanted to check up on how my ‘security’ is performing for your staff.” I almost laugh at his coy use of “security.” Which tells me that there’s either someone here who can’t be trusted or there’s an underlying question.
This shit is all for show—him inviting partners to drink on the house—but also to remind them who is in charge. If he didn’t trust them, they wouldn’t be here. But then again, I know Crue doesn’t trust anyone.
We’d come to an agreement years ago when I first met Crue. My services and business were in high demand, and I needed protection for my staff when the clients’ demands became more specific. And rich fuckers always think they can push or do what they want, even if it isn’t contracted. I know because I’d dealt with them myself. Having Crue’s men stand as guards in the room during the “dates” as said pleasures were played out reduced the danger to my women and men. And if I were to find out anything happened before or after, I’d dealwith it personally. And in exchange, I offer services and entertainment for such occasions.
“As usual,” I say, watching two of my girls work the men in the room. Entertainment, of course. Both of them can defend themselves if something were to ever go down.
These men are dangerous.
But they also pay a lot.
Crue considers this. “I’ve received some intel that I don’t think you’ll like.”
I furrow my brows. “Such as?”
Crue lets out a sigh. He’s not one to pull punches, but if it affects my business, he knows better than the next howunyieldingI can be.
“One of the girls at my bar was approached by a man. We don’t have clear footage because he was wearing darkened shades. I only have two security guys at the bar, who pretend to be regulars, and even they can’t make an accurate description of him. He propositioned my bartender.”
I take another sip of the whisky, my jaw clenching. “So what does this have to do with me?”
Crue places his empty glass down and waves for one of my girls, who immediately fills it back up. “He told the bartender that he works for Dawson Escorting.”
I almost shatter the glass in my hand. “What?” I ask, unsure I’ve heard him right.
Crue eyes me and dips his gaze to my strangled glass. I retract my hand and smooth over my white jacket. “Ithought your security was top-notch at your establishments. How can no one identify him?”
“Don’t offend me, Dawson,” Crue warns.
