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His voice reminds me of sex. It’s gravelly, and feels like a living thing as it travels across my skin. Shivering, I decide I can’t be half naked around him right now in my bra and panties.
“What does one wear to meet a mob boss?” I sigh, looking through my clothes.
“It’s unseasonably warm right now,” Draven mentions. “As much as I want to bundle you into a turtleneck and leggings, I can’t, so wear something that you’re comfortable with, that will also conceal your knife.”
“These are people that’ll probably check for weapons, huh?” I mutter as I continue to look through my clothes. It is ridiculously hot today in Chicago. It’s almost September, why haven’t they gotten the memo?
Pulling out a black dress with a corset top, I add thigh highs as well. May as well put the damn knife on display. Seán wants to meet the girl who’s fearless, so I’m going to lean into that persona.
Thirty minutes later, I’m dressed, adding a pair of midnight-blue peep-toe heels as well.
“Holy fuck,” Draven mutters. “We went in a different direction I see.”
Strapping my knife on so it’ll be covered unless someone goes looking, I shrug. My hair’s curled in ringlets, my makeup is done in purples and dark browns, and I’m wearing a mauve lipstick. I decided to go with a sultry look.
“I’d rather he underestimate me,” I tell him. “If he doesn’t, then I want him to see me as more dangerous than I am. He’s interested because of my cool head under pressure, but I don’t know what he wants with me otherwise.”
Draven is wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his delicious black ink. There’s a guitar, a keyboard, and drums interwoven in the sleeves of his arms.
I can even see sticks crossed on his inner arms with a quote that says “Music is life.”His tattooed hands have black and white ink shading of musical notes with a microphone. Draven Hendricks is a walking, talking artistic masterpiece.
The ink rolls on his skin as the muscles bunch and relax, and I swallow when I realize I’m very close to drooling.
“Little Flower, we won’t be going anywhere if you keep looking at him like that,” Tyler teases me. Taking a deep breath, I look his way, drinking him in with my gaze. He’s also in a black dress shirt and pants, but his collar is unbuttoned. They both look like dessert and a snack.
“We should get going then, because my self control is shit right now,” I tease him, my voice low and throaty. My tone is typically deeper than most women, which is why I sing alto, but Tyler’s heated stare tells me I’m playing with fire.
A knock on the door saves me from the possibility of being thrown on the bed and fucked instead of going out tonight. I wouldn’t mind it in the least, except that Uncle Jordan is counting on me right now.
Walking out of the bedroom, I check the peephole, surprised Atlas and Mav are outside. I really didn’t expect them to be dressed up, let alone willing to come with us.
“Yes?” I ask them as I open the door. I’m done playing nice right now, while my stomach is in knots. Tyler ordered room service for dinner earlier so I actually ate today. As much as I talk a good game, I’m really nervous about tonight.
Atlas and Mav stare at me for longer than is polite, and Atlas’s hand fists for a moment.
“Wow,” Mav mutters, licking his thick lips. “There are a lot of things I want to say, but I don’t think you’ll take any of them the way I intend them. That dress is… something else.”
Blinking, I decide to take the rest of his sentence into consideration as I wonder if he means it as a compliment or not. Neither are known for their complimentary language when it comes to me, though.
“Okay… why are you here?” I ask, not moving away from the door. I’m not making this easy, because I don’t need them to bring their bullshit with them.
“You said we were going to the club, so here we are,” Atlas explains.
“No, you gave me a bunch of pushback about it, which is why you’re no longer invited. I don’t have the time nor the energy to babysit you two,” I tell them, beginning to close the door.
“Damn,” Mav mutters, sticking his black boot in the door. While they’re dressed nicely, they’re wearing their standard boots as well, except these look exceptionally shiny. “Can we please go with you? We promise not to say a word. There’s strength in numbers, especially when your backups are big fuckers.”
Atlas and Mav are not small men at six-foot-three and over two-hundred and fifty pounds. They aren’t fat in the least with all of their muscles they always tend to display. Is it worth the headache though?
“Who’s at the door, Lay?” Tyler asks, opening it wider and wrapping an arm around my waist. He rarely claims me like this, and I find I’m enjoying a bit of my quiet man showing off his caveman skills. “Hello, boys. Are we going to play nice tonight?”
I feel as if I’ve been dropped into the middle of a half finished conversation as Tyler smirks at them and Atlas and Mav glare at him.
“Aye,” they grunt, making me roll my eyes. They are so in tune with each other, sometimes it feels as if they’re an extension of the other. Sometimes they can have entire conversations without speaking.
Fucking annoying if you ask me, but a part of me is jealous too.
“Fine, let me grab my bag so we can go,” I tell them, turning to walk back into my bedroom.
