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JUNE
“Dude, but have you had the Thai over on Front Street?” Magnus asks Simon.
Simon scoffs. “It’s good but nothing compared to over on Ballard and Hazel.”
“Bullshit.” Magnus wraps his arms around my shoulder and tugs me toward him, almost like a natural reaction he doesn’t even realize he’s doing while he’s so lost in the conversation of who knows where the best food is with Simon.
It’s kind of strange how well they get along considering theyhateeach other.
But the more they talk, the more they have in common. Their interests align with food, business, and women.
Okay, maybe notwomen, butwoman.Singular.
I’ve never asked about any of the guys’ exes. I haven’t wanted to know. Because no matter how much I pretend I wouldn’t care, I’d compare myself to each and every one of them. It’s basic human fucking nature, and I want no part of it.
I’m already in my head enough about their feelings for me, I don’t need that to add to the insecurities, too.
Sarah…heart emojis.
I should have heard Simon out when he tried to explain who she was, but I didn’t want to know that either. I shouldn’t be possessive over him, or remotely jealous of some other woman having his attention, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.
Maybe it’s because Simon and I have evolved from enemies to friends; our forced relationship molding us into some weird, platonic relationship. But is that all these feelings are? Platonic? A friend caring about another friend?
Simon steals a glance at me, a smile on his face as he talks to Magnus. He winks at me and turns his attention back to Magnus.
That flutter in my chest telling me otherwise about my friendship theory.
We’re both aware this can be nothing more. It’s forbidden—practically fucking borderline illegal. Dominic and Coen would decapitate us if we even thought about it. Magnus, on the other hand, might be down. Still, there’s no way the other two would be.
The door to the garage opens and my heart completely comes to a stop.
Dominic and Coen, speak of the fucking devils, walk through the door, blood and gore covering their bodies.
I slide off the stool at the kitchen island and rush over to them, not sure which one to focus on.
“What happened?” I stare between them.
Coen is shirtless, but wearing what looks like a bulletproof vest. At least he's fucking careful. But there's white gauze wrapped around his forearm with a center of red.
I press my hand on Dom’s chest to confirm he’s wearing a vest, too. “Are you okay?”
Dom nods but doesn’t hold my gaze. Instead, he looks to Magnus. “I thought everyone would be in bed by now.”
I snap my fingers in his face. “Hello, I’m right here.”
“I, uh—” Coen starts. “I’m going to get some sleep.” He points to the stairway past me.
I raise my arm and stop him. “Not until someone tells me what’s going on.”
“June.” Dominic sighs. “Can we not do this tonight?”
I cross my arms. “Then when? Huh? You mean tomorrow morning, when you sneak out of the house before I wake up? Or maybe when you come home after I’ve gone to sleep? All you do is avoid me. You don’t respond to my texts; you don’t bother to call. You make plans with me and miss them, knowing damn well how important it was to me that we spent some time together. Listen, I’m trying to be fucking patient here—be theunderstandinggirlfriend to the big bad mafia man, but you’ve got to give mesomethingDom, a fucking crumb to signal that you still care.”
Dominic’s jaw clenches, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think his eyes were glistening. But I do know better—and Dom is fucking heartless. His emotions are reserved for being a merciless psychopath with only his endless pursuit of ambition on his mind.
He doesn’t give a shit about me, and he continues to make it known each day as he pushes me farther away. And when he looks away, his feet taking him around my body and toward the stairway, my concerns are proven correct.
If that's how he wants to be, two can play this fucking game.
