I hum thoughtfully, fake and sarcastic. “Your errand boy?”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t let me up, either. His message is loud and clear; wrong answer.
“A fuckbuddy?” I pretend to guess, biting back a smirk.
He says nothing, as patient as a motherfucking mountain. Not rising to my bait.
I sigh, long and hard, like I’m very put upon, and shoot them out rapid-fire. If waiting him out won’t get me anywhere, maybe I’ll just annoy him to death.
“An employee? A charity case. Your newest toy. A convenient scapegoat in the event of a crime gone wrong. Bullet-food for target practice. A–hey alright, alright!” I shout when he slides his thumb along my jaw, changes his grip and pushes until my cheek is pressed flat on the woodgrain, and I’m forced to look at him when he bends a bit so he’s in my line of sight.
He doesn’t look amused. In fact, he looks verynotamused.
Maybe I’d better let this joke end.
Fine.
Defeated, I mutter, “I’m your niece’s fiancé.”
“Shit.” Someone whispers, but Young-gi shakes his head.
“No?” I exclaim, wriggling hard under his hand. “I’m being serious, that’s the one! That’s the answer!”
“No, Tommy. You’re not her fiancé. Not really.” I freeze, my stomach dropping, something inside me flinching back and withering. I want to look away, but his eyes have me now, and I can’t, even though it hurts.
But then he continues, and changes everything all over again.
“You’re not hers. You’re mine. You’re a Sokolov, becauseIfucking say you are. It’s not her claim on you that matters, it’s mine.”
Wait… what?
I don’t even have time to react, to process the way my heart stops. He yanks me up suddenly, pulling on me until I’m sitting up straight and holding me there with that hand on the back of my neck, showing me to the men at the table like I’m that baby lion in the Lion King movie. They’re all staring at me in various states of shock, and I bristle, put on display and torn between being annoyed and horny.
I scowl, snarl at them, really, feeling a bit like an animal. “Fuck you guys.”
“Anyone want to say anything to him?” Young-gi asks, ignoring my cussing. “Hm? You have a problem with a Sokolov being at this table?”
Silence. Dead silence. Even Yosef is looking a bit pale, and the guy who originally spoke against me is positively green, looking sea-sick or some shit. I finally tear myself out of Young-gi’s hold and shove his hand away.
“Fuck you,” I snap. “Don’t hold me like that.”
He stares, and then, in another surprising move, he smiles. A small one, but still a smile. Just for me. “Tommy, you asked me to.”
Ooooh, this bastard.He isn’t wrong though. Maybe I was daring him to do something, just a little, with the prostitute comment.
I rub the back of my neck sullenly and slouch facing away from him. And IknowI look like I’m pouting but goddammit, I can’t seem to help it when he pulls shit like this. He brings it out in me, along with all kinds of surprising and painful feelings.
That’s the only interesting part of the meeting. After a few minutes, it’s like it never happened, and everyone’s acting normal again. No one looks at me too long, though, and I wonder if it’s because they’re afraid that Young-gi will punish them for it. That’s weirdly hot.
I know, I’m fucked up.
I should just forget about the whole thing.
But I don’t forget. And the more I think about it, the more confused I get. Because… a Sokolov? What does he even mean by that? His? Did he actually say that? I’m his? What the fuck?
He can’t mean that shit. It’s stupid. It’s insane. And maybe I’m a little fucked in the head but I’m notthatcrazy. But… it sounds nice. Being his has a nice ring to it. Being a Sokolov.
Tommy…I chicken out, I can’t even think it. But I want to.
