Oh god, what if he isn’t? What if this really is all in your head, Kat?
Before I can spiral, he turns to leave, but not before pulling a one-hundred-dollar bill from his breast pocket and dropping it into the tip jar.
“I look forward to seeing you again, Kat,” he says, my name sounding like velvet on his tongue. He takes a sip of his coffee before walking out the door, and suddenly the room feels lighter, more open.
He walks with a confidence that I could only dream of having. There’s something about him that screams danger, but I just sassed this man, and he fucking smiled at me in return. Isn’t he supposed to be this big mafia guy? Surely he could have just killed me for insubordination or something. I need to watchThe Godfatheragain and brush up on mafia etiquette.
“Oh. My. God!” Harper squeals beside me, earning her some glares from seated customers. “He’s so much hotter in the daylight,” she whispers as she grips my arm. “Do you think he has sex with the suit on? God, that would be hot…” she trails off, taking my attention span with her.
I’m only half listening. Heat creeps across my cheeks, and I’m suddenly incredibly thankful to have had the forethought to put on makeup this morning, or else the evidence of how rattled I feel would literally be painted across my face right now.
I should have known staying away from him would be harder than I thought.
Ten
Elias
Are You Dead Yet? – Children Of Bodom
Isip my latte as I weave my Porsche through the streets of Bridgeport, feeling the small buzz of caffeine through my veins. I rarely drink coffee. The caffeine crash that follows is something I can’t afford. But I needed a reason to see her.
After I got home from Delirium last night, I went straight into my office and pulled up the security feed of Headstone, but of course, she wasn’t there. It was two in the morning by the time the cops finished searching Delirium. They didn’t find anything. That bar is compliant with every code in the state, and even some from out of state. But of course, we had to show them everything.
I knew the guy who was searching us, he’s been assigned to one of our cases before. He knows enough about what’s going on beneath the city that this tip was bullshit, but it didn’t stop him from looking under every fucking liquor bottle like a god damn bloodhound.
I cursed them the entire ride home, and cursed them even more when I couldn’t see her on my security feed. I was tempted to watch the whole performance again through the footage. I was halfway through the performance before my dick was straining painfully in my slacks. I relented and stroked my cock right there in my office, finishing by painting a freeze frame of her cowl-covered face with my come. I haven’t jacked off over a photo since I was in high school. What the fuck was I doing?
I shut off the monitor and took myself to bed. But she plagued my mind all night. I had to see her.
I didn’t plan on going to the coffee shop today. But my dick was thinking faster than my brain, and I was in the car before I even knew what I was doing. She’s like the brightest flame, and I’m a moth drawn straight to her, ready to burn in her heat. When I saw her this morning, there was something… bleak about her that wasn’t there last night. I make a mental note to check with Finn later. I don’t like not knowing things, especially about her. Whatever weighed on her, she tried not to let it show. The way she didn’t back down from me made something primal shift inside me.
I wonder how far that defiance runs?
As I come to a stop at the stoplight, I can’t help but picture her perfect fucking face staring at me, her plump lips slightly open with her hair tied up in a messy bun, giving me the perfect view of the column of her neck. I barely contain a groan as I imagine kissing my way down. And fuck, when her fingers brushed mine? I could have come on the spot.
What is this girl doing to me?
HQ comes into view at the end of the street. The tall, glass-covered building stretches high into the sky. It’s not the tallest building in the city, but it’s close. Fifty-two floors to be exact. Not all of them are for Circle business—that’s mainly the top sixteen floors. The rest are various bars, restaurants, and stores that I rent out. Gareth kept hounding me to put the extra floors to use to “protect our image.” It took three years for me to relent. But the fucker was right, those businesses have kept The Circle out of the public eye. I’ll never tell him that, though.
Pulling up at HQ, I adjust myself in my slacks before getting out of the car and giving my keys to the valet. He shifts his gaze to the floor as he takes the keys from my hand. I walk through the white, clinical lobby and make my way toward the elevator. The security detectors scream as I walk through them like they always do—but no one stops me.
“Good morning, Mr. Monroe,” one guard says to me as he inclines his head.
Stopping inside the elevator, I scan my fingerprint and press the top-floor button. The soft whirring of the motor settles my thoughts, smoothing out the last of the earlier tension. As the doors open, I walk out into Circle HQ.
It looks the same as it always does—white walls, computers with far too many monitors lining the benches. The room is always darker than the outside world, thanks to the heavily tinted bulletproof glass in the windows. I employ dozens of people for this part of my business—mainly hackers. This floor is specifically dedicated to my higher-risk work. No one looks up from their screen when I walk in.
Good.
My shoes echo through the space as I make my way to the boardroom. I adjust my cufflinks and steel my spine before pushing the handle down.
Eight men circle the table, and most of them—except for one—sit up straighter as I close the door behind me. I make sure to look at each of them as I make my way to the head of the table. Three of the men are the leaders of the various criminal gangs that operate in Bridgeport, each of them joined by their second in command. Gareth and Cain sit to the left and right of me, Cain with his feet on the table, twirling a butterfly knife in his hands, and Gareth with his fingers poised over his laptop keyboard.Chairs shift as I reach my place, spines stiffen, and bodies lean forward as I slowly lower myself into the chair.
“Nice of you to join us, Boss,” Gunnar, the leader of The Raiders, scoffs. Gunnar is a greasy man. His salt and pepper hair sticks to his shiny forehead as a bead of sweat rolls down his face and onto his ill-fitting suit. A slow grin curls up on his face. He’s been in the underbelly of this city longer than I’ve been alive. He likes to think he’s the one pulling the strings here, but all it does is paint a bright red fucking target on his back.
“When you make yourself as powerful as you think you are, Gunnar, then you can control my schedule,” I reply casually, taking a cigarette out of my pocket and lighting it.
Gunnar’s face reddens, but he wisely chooses to keep his mouth shut. His second, Ivan, wrings his hands in his lap, his knee bouncing restlessly.
