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“Oh, that’s right,” Tatum teases, and I know bullshit is about to fall out of her mouth. “So did Lyric and Matty.”
“How?” I exclaim. “What is this? Do you all have some kind of phone tree I’m not privy to?”
“Yes,” Tatum says.
Desmond growls, cutting off our banter. “Charlotte, what the collection of mafia princesses did will not go unpunished.” He turns that dark gaze on Tatum, who appears unaffected.
“He claimed you,” she stage-whispers.
Sighing, Desmond closes his eyes and mumbles to the ceiling. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Let me show her around.” Tatum smirks, and there is clearly an unspoken threat to Desmond. “I mean, she’s not going anywhere, and, well, you told everyone not to touch her, so…”
“Wait, you did what?” I nearly snap my neck, turning from Tate to Desmond. “Excuse me?”
“Claiming a person,” Tatum muses softly. “Looks like it can be done.”
“I will kill you,” Desmond tells Tate, but there isn’t an ounce of heat there.
“No, you won’t.” She chuckles. “Oh, look.” She sets her coffee cup down and skips to the door. “Our favorite agent is here.” After unlocking it, Tate swings the door open and greets Matty. “Good morning. I hope you are hungry.”
My face falls as Matthew walks inside, his eyes going to Desmond. The two square off.
He has no idea who Desmond is, but from the look on Desmond’s face, he knows exactly who Matthew Hayes is.
Desmond eventually tears his gaze away from Matty to address me with a commanding tone. “Kitten,” he begins, his voice carrying a sense of authority that brooks no argument. “We can finish this conversation over dinner. Tonight.” It’s not a request, and even if it were, I’d readily agree.
“I’ll babysit,” the traitor formerly known as my best friend Tatum announces, her mischievous grin widening.
“Sweetheart,” Hayes drawls, his Southern accent more pronounced than usual as he saunters over to me, pressing a kiss to my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Desmond’s menacing expression. Hayes is playing a dangerous game, and from the looks of it, he is well aware. “Seat me in your section please, ma’am.”
My gaze oscillates between the two men, torn between the defiant smirk on Desmond’s face and the satisfaction emanating from Hayes. Shaking my head, I ignore Tatum’s laughter and snatch a menu, leading Hayes to a booth. Maybe I’m playing the game too, as I seat him at Desmond’s booth.
“Have a seat,” I tell him, tossing the menu onto the table and defiantly meeting Desmond’s eyes, which glitter with the promise of retribution.
“So, sweetheart,” Hayes begins, pushing the menu aside, “have you thought any more about what we talked about?”
I glance back at Desmond, who remains rooted to the counter, unapologetically eavesdropping on our conversation. I tap the menu and respond with a hint of defiance. “You have to order something if you want to sit here, Hayes.”
Without averting his intense gaze from me, he simply says, “Coffee. Cream and sugar.” His voice rolls over the last word, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. “I like my coffee like my women—sweet as pecan pie with a bite.”
Turning away, I march toward the coffee pots, where Tatum still leans, sipping her coffee.
“Question,” she says far too loudly. “Triple penetration.”
Oh, kill me now.
I drop my head back and stare at the ceiling. I’d pray for patience if I knew anyone was watching.
“I mean, I get the appeal, but how does it work?” she asks, not caring that she is announcing this to two men, both of whom I’ve kissed…not that she knows that.
“How would that work?” Desmond chimes in, fanning the flames of a conversation I’d rather not be involved in.
Tatum, undeterred, adds her own colorful commentary. “Two in the pink and one in the stink.”
“You are dead to me,” I hiss at her, my face aflame with embarrassment as I gather all my coffee supplies. I can feel the heat rising, and not just in my cheeks. “Dead.”
Desmond just tilts his head, his eyes drifting to a spot on the wall. If he is even remotely thinking about this, I’m going to stab Tatum in the eye.
