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“Still have a punching bag in the gym?”
When Dom shot Chef a glare, the bastard smirked. Then he had the audacity to cut his eyes toward the stairs.
“Maybe you need to pound something?” His grin grew wider.
“Maybe if you don’t have anything else to report, you all need to get the fuck out.”
Chef held up his hands and got to his feet, and the others did the same. But before he walked out the door, he pulled Dom aside.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Right. Like what you were just implying?”
“No. Like leaving. I wouldn’t even go downstairs if I were you. It’s just not worth it.”
Dom had a response on the tip of his tongue, but he held it back and sighed. “Fuck you.”
Chef grinned and squeezed his shoulder. “Fuck you too, man. Or better yet…” He looked at the stairs and waggled his brows.
“Out.” When Chef didn’t move fast enough, Dom gave him a firm shove and slammed the door in his face.
