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We shifted our attention to him.
“Let’s go upstairs.”
We left the booth and made our way to his office. He stood aside to let us pass before closing the door behind us. He walked to his desk and perched on the edge, gripping it with his hands. Tyler and Chance sat on the couch as I roamed the room.
“Luke,” Ian shook his head, “you can’t just take the plane without my permission.”
Chance snorted. “You gonna tell him no?”
Ian’s brows knitted.
Since Jenna came into our lives, he and Chance were always back and forth about everything. Chance was the only person on the planet who could deliberately annoy Ian without getting throat punched or killed. I’d never understand their relationship, but it was funny to watch their interactions.
Often, I sat back, waiting for Ian to snap. Of course, I’d have to step in and protect Chance if that ever happened. Whether or not he’d ever admit it out loud, he was one of us.
“It’s okay.” I shrugged. “We can fly commercial. It’s not a big deal.”
Ian valued his status above all else, and he rarely considered flying commercial unless it was a dire situation. Ever since he acquired the jet, we no longer had to rely on borrowing planes from Valentino and Giovanni, which I’m sure they appreciated.
“Fuck,” Ian muttered. “You can take it. Let me contact aviation in the morning.”
“Without asking for the details?” Tyler chuckled. “You give in way too easy to those two.”
“Do you want me to put you back in the hospital, Ty?”
Tyler crossed his arms, glaring with a reply ready to fire back but the office door opened. Declan waltzed in smug and confident, which was how he always carried himself, sober or drunk. He was practically the spitting image of me. We were both six feet tall with olive skin, chocolate hair styled the same way, and wore our facial hair the same; beards tightly trimmed against our jaws.
We turned our attention to him, but he stopped dead in his tracks, examining each of us as he wiped pink lipstick off his neck with a black cocktail napkin. “What?”
“We’re having a meeting, Copy Paste,” Chance replied, using the nickname he’d given Declan.
Our only difference was I had sleeve tattoos on both arms while his was only on his left. We were often mistaken for twins as both children and adults.
“Fuck off, Blondie, I’m too drunk to deal with you tonight.” He loathed the nickname. He fell back in one of the black leather chairs in the sitting area, waving a hand lazily. “Continue.”
Chance opened his mouth to reply. “You?—”
Ian’s patience was wearing thin as he resumed speaking. “As I was trying to explain before,” he said, “I’ll handle the call tomorrow.” He shot a stern look at Tyler, his expression all business. “I don’t need the details from Luke. Unlike any of you, I trust him without question.”
Chance shifted in his seat. “Ty, I killed for him and got shot for him, and he still questions everything I fucking do or say.”
The vein in Ian’s neck bulged as he ground his teeth. “Do not ever bring that shit up again.” Agitated, he pushed off the desk, folding his arms high across his chest. “Jake already had a hard enough time cleaning up that fucking mess we left outside. You know I don’t run my businesses disorganized, but the fucking Mussolini attacked messy and the only way to handle it was the same.”
“When should we plan to leave?” I asked, ready to change the topic. Sierra, Ian’s older sister, had asked a lot of questions lately and I knew it was a sore topic. The more Ian spoke about it, the more enraged he became. Privately, he’d already expressed how pissed he was about the entire thing and what a strain it’d been on his relationship with her.
“If I can get everything taken care of early enough,” he slipped his phone from his pocket, “I’d guess by early afternoon.”
“What’s going on?” Declan interjected.
Ian glared at him in silence for a moment before he finally replied, “They’re going to California tomorrow to check out some stuff for the club’s expansion.”
“I’m in,” he grinned, “and I miss my bro out there.”
Tyler laughed. “You want nothing to do with the club unless it involves fucking or drinking.”
“He’s not wrong,” I agreed, a smirk pulling at the corner of my lips.
“You’re expanding the club to what?”
