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Dom leaves the room, Coen’s eyes unsure of where to focus.
I sigh and glance up at him. My sweet, tortured boy with blood all over him. “Let me guess,” I tell him. “You’re not allowed to say anything.”
“I’m sorry, J.” His apology is so genuine it makes me want to hug him and never let him go.
I reach up and run my thumb along his cheek. “I know, Co.”
He turns toward me, leans down, and kisses my forehead. “Give him a week, okay? We’ll come clean then.” Coen flits his gaze toward Magnus. “Right?”
Magnus nods. “Promise.”
At least two of my men don't completely want to keep me on the outs. How is it that Simon is so unaware of what's going on? He'd tell me without question, not giving a shit what Dominic or any of the guys had to say. He’s always been honest with me—in the ways that matter. He recognizes how hurt I’ve been by them shutting me out, there’s no way he would withhold information if it meant my unhappiness.
But I guess that’s the difference between Simon and the rest of the guys. Simon understands the darkness within and doesn’t deny that part of me. No, he helps me embrace them and nurtures those illicit tendencies. Simon isn’t a good guy by any means—he’s no hero. He’s the villain who extends his hand and guides me into the depths of my deepest desires, even when they’re twisted and sinister as fuck. I knew it from the moment he brought me my abuser and was willing to cut his fucking heart out just because I asked if it was possible. He proved in that moment he would do anything for me, no matter how fucking insane, and has only continued to with each moment we spend together.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask Coen.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “I’ll be fine.”
“Get some rest, we’ll talk tomorrow.” I stand taller and press my lips to his. “Thanks for texting me back earlier.”
Dominic is old as fuck, but it only takes two seconds to respond. If Coen can do it in the condition he’s in, there’s no reason Dom shouldn’t have been able to, too.
Coen heads out of the room, and I go back over to Magnus and Simon. They both stand there like they’re waiting to get in trouble. A house full of feared mafia men and not a single one of them will look me in the fucking eyes. If I had it in me, I’d yellboojust to see if they’d jump.
“A week?” I state.
Magnus bobs his head up and down, finally meeting my gaze. “Not a moment longer.”
“Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.” I pause and add, “Or something like that.”
“On that note, I’m gonna go," Simon announces and slaps Magnus on the shoulder. "Glad I'm not in the dog house with ya.”
I narrow my gaze at him. “It can be arranged.”
Simon winks at me again. “Have to be in the house before I can be thrown out.”
"Something will change in a week’s time. Either way, you'll know the truth, and we'll all live happily ever after, or the three of us will run away together." Magnus shrugs. "It's a win-win in my book.”
“Wait.” I chuckle. “Us three?” I motion between us and Simon.
Simon raises his brow and cocks his head to the side. “I’m down.”
Is that a flicker of hope I spot on his face?
Dominic and Coen will snuff that out quicker than they can pull a hairpin trigger.
Magnus shrugs. “Why not?” His question comes out a bit rhetorical.
“Okay, before I wake up from this dream, I really am leaving.” Simon points to me. “I’ll see you bright and early, love.”
“Bright maybe, but not early.
“Don’t worry, I won’t wake you.” Simon walks backward toward the door. “I’ll just watch you like a serial killer while you sleep.”
“Oh, that’s not creepy at all.”
Simon slips out the door and leaves me and Magnus behind.
