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“No.” I flick my fingers at the waitress. It’s pointless to order another shot since I know damn well that’s not what she’s offering. “I’m not interested.”
Her eyes dart to Royce. In the same light, his styled blond hair is almost golden, and his teeth as he offers her a smile fuckinggleam. “Thanks, Tessa. But that’ll be all.”
She nods quickly, curls and tits both bouncing wildly, before she flips her tray up and scampers away.
I should probably be offended at the stink of relief that clings to her. She must’ve thought for a moment that, after all the girls Royce has thrown at me, she’d be the one to tempt me enough to be chosen by the head Sinner.
Some of them actually wanted to fuck me. Others were probably willing to take one for the team, fucking me for either the money, the power, or because they could say they tamed Devil. And then there were those who thought they might be able to go through with it before realizing just who they were propositioning.
I already know which one she was. Tessa was so scared of my reputation, I’d wager she’d faint before I even got my cock out. And while somnophilia used to be an admitted kink of mine, I’ve only ever stuck my dick inside of a pussy I had permission to use whenever I wanted to.
Since I don’t, she has nothing to worry about. Lucky for her and every other girl Royce tosses my way, the poor bastard is staying right where he is: trapped in my boxer briefs, waiting for my hand to give it a quick stroke whenever I can spare a few minutes away from business.
As gorgeous as she was, there’s not a single twitch coming from down below. Maybe it’s the headache, maybe it’s the noise, and maybe it’s knowing that she only approached the table because my second told her to, but I don’t have the slightest urge to whack one out in my personal bathroom.
For some reason, that pisses me off even more.
“Royce.” My voice comes out like a low growl. “You gotta stop with this shit.”
Smart guy. He doesn’t try to pretend not to know what I’m talking about.
“Can’t help it. I’m worried about you, boss.”
I snort. “Just because I’m not fucking a different girl every week like some of the men, doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. One of us has gotta run the syndicate with our brains, not our cocks.”
“True, but getting laid every now and then won’t hurt, either. Think of it as a way to blow off steam so you don’t blow off one of our heads.”
Dropping my hand to my lap, I run my thumb over the handle of my holstered Sig Sauer P365, my everyday carry. “I only kill those who deserve to die these days.”
Royce is also smart enough not to have a comment about the ‘these days’ part of my statement, especially when he knows that I always have my firearm within reach.
I can’t blame him for trying. He’s got shit of his own he’s trying to work out, and losing himself in a willing pussy for a night has helped him more times than I can count. He’s not the only one in the syndicate who can’t understand why I’m still single after all this time—why I don’t take a mistress since I’ve made it clear I don’t want a wife—even if he knows exactlywhyI’m the way I am.
It’s for the same reason why he won’t dangle a green-eyed, soft-spoken brunette on a hook in front of me to see if I’ll take the bait. I won’t, and it’s not worth the fallout if I lose my temper.
Bad things happen when the Devil’s grip on his control slackens, and my second knows that better than anyone.
“Yeah,” he says after a moment, light flashing off his expensive watch as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Sorry ‘bout that, boss. I just thought—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Royce’s teeth click as he snaps his mouth closed. He’s a smart ass, yeah, but he’s also an intuitive member of the syndicate. When he hears that snarl in my voice, he doesn’t hesitate to obey.
I heard the buzz right before I felt the vibration coming from deep in the front pocket of my pants. The sensation is so unexpected that I completely tune out everything around me after I tell Royce to shut up. I can’t do a damn thing about theuntz untz untzof the music blaring around me, but here in the privacy of our booth, I can’t focus with Royce yapping.
And, holy shit, I need to focus.
Because the buzz? It’s not coming from the phone I placed face-down on the tabletop in front of me. It’s in my pocket, and that means only one thing: the phone I’ve carried around for fifteen fucking years without it ringing once in the last thirteen or so is going off.
My heart stops for a beat before it starts to pound louder than the dance song playing.
Tanner set this phone up for me. I don’t have any contacts in it, and every single number in the world except for two are blocked. I’ve kept it charged since I was a lovesick twenty-year-old, never changing the number even though I’ve had at least ten different business lines over the years. Anyone who wanted to reach me could find a way, but this number?
It’s for one person only, and it’s configured so that her personal cell and the landline she rarely uses could reach me if she wanted to.
And it’sringing.
I dip my fingers into my pocket, prepared for some spam caller to have found its way around Tanner’s blocks. I know better than to get my hopes up. As much as I’ve never forgotten the one that got away, the last time Ava Monroe dialed my number, she told me she never wanted to see me again.
