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Not of me, judging by the way he immediately attacked me, but of something in himself. He’s reeling with fear, angry and confused, and doing the one thing that makes sense.
Attack. Maim. Hurt.
“Julian,” I say steadily. “Calm down.”
It doesn’t work, doesn’t cut through the fear. He just bares his teeth and pushes harder, until the chain presses uncomfortably into my neck. It would be easy enough to shove him back; he doesn’t have the brute strength that I do, relying on his speed and instincts more than raw power. But now is not the time to remind him of that, so I stay there, letting him half-choke me, letting him stare into my eyes with a venomous expression.
The seconds pass.
At last he speaks, a low hiss of hate. “I’m no one’s little bitch, Bernardi. You speak to me like that again, I’ll make you eat your own intestines.” He breaks off, pulling away from me, breathing hard. “Get these fucking things off me,” he says, completely neutral now, holding up his wrists. I do as he says, and he gathers the cuffs into his hands and hurls them at me.
And then he grabs his cock cage and his clothes, leaving the room before he even bothers to dress. Leaving me there with his cooling, sticky cum all over me, and a giant question mark about what kind of man Julian Castellani really is.
No one’s little bitch, though.
That’s for sure.
CHAPTER17
LEO
I don’t see hidenor hair of Julian Castellani for a few days after that, and I spend the time helping the dock crew feelmotivatedagain, after that Castellani fuck, Johnny Jacopo, took out their Capo. The new guy my father put in as Capo, Tony Olivieri, is a friend of my brother AJ’s, which makes me predisposed to dislike him. But they’re still having trouble with some PacSyn-adjacent dickheads, and being there keeps me busy, even if I spend a lot more time than I want to thinking about Julian.
About how he reacted that night, and why.
It’s thewhythat gets me. He was totally down for everything right up until a certain point, and then it was like he went right off a cliff, and I can’t stop thinking about what that cliff was. He’s a Castellani, and they’reallfucked up in one way or another. But I can’t shake the feeling that there was something to it, something beyond me mocking him.
So when Julian finally shows up at The Cellar again, and Rachel sends me the usual text to let me know, I haul ass to be there too. I want to see him again, talk to him, get to know him better. Keep him on the line. And maybe, just maybe, to fuck him senseless.
But most of all, I want to make sure he’s okay after our session the other night.
He sits at the bar, nursing a drink, and I take a seat next to him. He doesn’t even look my way when he says, “I’m not here for Romeo tonight.”
“Cool. Romeo’s not scheduled on. Maybe you can be here for Leo, though.”
He turns at that, the dark smirk firmly in place, the challenge back in his eyes. “And why the fuck,” he drawls, “would I be here for Leo?”
Jesus Christ. To think I felt bad for this little shit the last few days. “Because you lost the game, fuckface. And that means you owe me a favor.”
He snorts, but for once his eyes aren’t the usual blank mirrors. I swear I seereliefin his eyes, like he’s glad I’m the one who brought it up. “What do you want?”
“I want you to come out with me tonight and bust some PacSyn heads down at the docks.”
He takes a long swig of his drink, then sets his glass down on the bar, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “That’s it? You want me to be your muscle?”
I lean in close, my lips brushing against his ear, “I want you to be my muscle and then I want you to be my hole. What do you say?” He stares back at me until I sit back in my seat, wondering if I overplayed my hand.
Then he says, “You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?”
I chuckle, throwing a fifty on the bar. “That’ll count as buying you a drink. I’ll buy you dinner after work. Unless you want to eat my dick instead by then.”
He trails his fingers along my forearm. “Now that, I might consider.” There’s a glint in his eyes promising all kinds of trouble.
Maybe it was my imagination the other night. Maybe he was just mad because he lost the gameheset up.
Maybe he’s been as desperate for my dick as my dick has been desperate for him.
There’s rush of heat down my spine as I stand up, motioning for him to follow me. We exit The Cellar out the back, where I mount my bike, and Julian gets on behind me. The ride to the docks is tense, the air thick with simmering sensuality as he clings tight to me. The neon lights of downtown LA cast a harsh glow over everything as we ride, and he keeps his hands firmly above my waist.
