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So, what the hell went wrong today?
“I assume that was her.” Queenie doesn’t look up from her phone as she makes her bored deduction, barely shifting in her seat as I weave down East 57thStreet doing eighty-five, her red heels flung up on my dash, making careless scuff marks on the Italian leather.
“Who?” I grit out, running the next set of lights without even glancing at them. If this fever in my veins doesn’t break soon, I’ll end up snapping both our necks. Not that it’s bothering Queenie. She lives for the thrill, which is why she enjoys working for me.
“Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you. I meant the girl in the hotel lobby who stopped you in your tracks, which,incidentally, never happens. She’s the other daughter, am I right?”
“Yes, she’s the daughter,” I confirm through gritted teeth.But there’s no ‘other’ about her. She’s the only one I see.
One glance, and I know we both felt it. Our vicious words spoke of our mutual agony. All I could think about was driving my cock inside her, and making her so full of me, she’d never have a chance to forget us again.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
This pull between us is the rush to our fucking ruin. We’re still killing each other slowly, even after all this time.
“She’s not what I expected.”
“Careful…”
“Oh, don’t growl at me, Grayson. I was about to say she’s stronger than I thought she’d be. Quietly beautiful underneath all those layers of spilt coffee and reporter grime. She’s not as impulsive as Isabella, or as tough as Thalia, but she’s certainly not the pretty little family wallflower I was led to believe. Hell, I might even like her, and that’s saying something. I regard everyone except you, Sam, and Tabs as steaming piles of shit.”
Something inside me lurches violently, but I force it back down to where it belongs. Ella and I made a box a long time ago, and it's staying right where we buried it that night.
“I wasn’t waiting for your approval, Queenie. You’re my lawyer, not my dick.”
“Just as well, judging from the amount of wincing going on. What did she do to you in that elevator? Knee you in the balls or kiss them?”
Gritting my teeth again, I hang a right.
“Shekneedyou?” Queenie’s laughter is a raucous cackle of joy, berating my eardrums all the way down Fifth Avenue. “Oh, I definitelylike her now. Tell me, did you orgasm from the contact? That’s the closest anyone’s got to that part of you in three years.”
“That partdoesn’t concern you.”
“True, but it’s obviously concerning you from the amount of pent-up energy rolling off your Brioni three-piece.”
Just then, a call comes through from Sam.
“What is it?”
“Morning salutations to you too, oh mighty leader,” my second-in-command drawls back.
“Two words,” pipes up Queenie, ignoring my death glare. “Starts with Ella and ends in Santiago.”
Sam curses under his breath, knowing the whole day’s gone to shit now.
“Tell me something good, Sanders,” I snarl, more as a threat than a request.
“We found Franco. Tracked him down to his stepmom’s trailer and discovered him hiding under her bed, the kinky shit. He’s portside with me now, looking longingly out of a broken warehouse window at all the container ships departing when his motherfucking one just came in. Can I start without you?”
“No,” I say sharply. “He’s mine. I’ll drop Queenie off and come straight there.”
“If you insist.” Sam yawns loudly and I berate him for it. “I have a baby with sleep regression, Grayson. Cut me some slack.”
“I should cut off your balls for your lack of respect.”
“Too late. The mother of my child claims she’s already wearing them. See you in an hour.”
I swing the Ferrari alongside Queenie’s building on 72ndStreet and brake viciously. When she first moved here, her firm occupied a single floor. Now, she owns three, and she’s not even thirty. The woman has one of the sharpest minds in the legal universe, but four years ago she was stripping to survive with a loaded gun pointed at her head.
