Jerking his head around, Jimmy gasped when he saw Boss Cold standing next to Dario’s piano, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He wore a three-piece suit as always, this one a rich charcoal pinstripe that made Jimmy’s knees weak. He smirked, setting down the champagne and beckoning Jimmy over with a crook of his finger.
Rowena hummed loudly, very pleased with herself as she said, “Mmmmm, well, I hope you boys have a wonderful time! I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” She gave Jimmy a big hug and kissed his cheek. “Mmph. You really did great, sweetie. Good night!”
“Good night,” Jimmy said, his eyes moving back to Cold waiting patiently for him on stage. He hurried back behind the curtains, eager and quick, but suddenly awkward once they were face to face again.
Singing to Cold had felt so intimate, almost spiritual, and the air between them seemed charged with a different kind of energy than usual. He smiled sweetly up at the gangster, eyeing the champagne. “Are we celebrating?”
“Oh, we have a lot to celebrate,” Cold drawled, setting down the glasses next to the champagne. He lifted a sly brow, his gaze darkening with lust as he purred, “And we also have to discuss your punishment, of course.”
“Punishment?” Jimmy’s face dropped.
“Yes, Mr. Poe,” Cold replied, sitting down leisurely at the piano. “You were instructed to return to me by midnight, and it’s well past that now. Perhaps you’re in need of another lesson, hmm?”
Jimmy gulped.
Oh, crap.
Chapter Thirteen
A punishment, Cold had said.
Jimmy’s stomach was dancing with trepidation and excitement, his loins beginning to stir. He knew what kind of punishments Cold enjoyed, and he couldn’t deny how much he liked them as well. But still, how was this fair?
“Rowena said she talked to you,” Jimmy argued stubbornly. “She told you—”
“Is your arrangement with Rowena?” Cold said abruptly, popping the cork off the champagne bottle. He snorted at Jimmy, pouring them each a glass. “No, your arrangement is with me. And if I give you an order, I expect it to be followed.”
“But the show—”
“Was incredible,” Cold said, raising his brows, “but you still disobeyed me.”
Jimmy’s pulse started to race, causing him to squeak the tip of his sneaker against the stage floor. The compliment won over his frustration. “You really liked it?”
Cold waved him over, offering him a glass of champagne. “Mmm, well, we are celebrating, aren’t we?”
“How did you know?” Jimmy asked after taking a gleeful sip.
“Know what?” Cold countered coyly.
“That I could sing.”
“You’re not exactly quiet in the shower, Mr. Poe,” Cold said with a tiny hint of a smile, drinking his champagne slowly.
Jimmy blushed. “So, this was your plan all along, huh?”
“Perhaps.” Cold stood up, his hand gently resting on the side of Jimmy’s neck, thumb gently tracing along his jaw.
Jimmy gulped down his champagne, his head starting to swim from Cold’s seductive touch.
“Tell me,” Cold asked in a smooth drawl, “did you like it... everyone watching you?”
“Yes.” Jimmy closed his eyes. “But I liked you watching me the best.”
Cold hummed at that, finishing off his champagne and setting his glass on top of the piano. He took Jimmy’s away to join it, sighing as he glanced over his lean frame hungrily. He began to slowly loosen Jimmy’s bow tie, opening up his shirt and sliding it off along with his jacket.
Jimmy’s pulse was racing from Cold’s smooth divesting. He loved how he undressed him, always with such care and patience. He watched him carefully fold everything and drop the clothes on the floor by the bench, shivering when Cold’s strong hands rested on his hips and squeezed hard.
“How would you like to see your name out on that marquis, hmm?” Cold asked. “Maybe I could watch you sing every night?”
