Ember opens her mouth and hesitates, then, very softly, she says, “You avenged your wife. They killed her and threatenedyour family… and you did something about it.” She laughs and shakes her head. “And all this time, I’ve been dating men who couldn’t be bothered to defend me against the occasional drunken asshole when we go out.”
I’m not sure how to take this reaction, so I chuckle with her. “You’ve clearly been dating the wrong men.”
“Maybe.” She regards me for a beat, then with a slow smile, she says, “You’d stand up for anyone, wouldn’t you? If they were in need?”
I lean back on the couch and say, “Not anyone. I protect what’s mine.”
She shakes her head and takes another sip. “I feel like you and your buddies have had some very bad PR over the years.”
“It’s not unwarranted.” I pause, feeling like I have to be honest in this moment. The dangers of being with me shouldn’t be something she romanticizes. “I never said I wasn’t a bad guy, Ember. I am. Sometimes, I’m the worst kind of guy. But I am nothing if not loyal. With me, you’ll never have to worry about being left out in the rain. I will make sure you’ll always have everything you will ever need. Even protection.” I pause as I observe her out of the corner of my eye. “But you should understand that I am a monster. I can be your monster, but my nature is what it is. You can’t ever forget that.”
She leans into me, and as I wrap an arm over her shoulder, she nuzzles against my chest.
“As long as you’re my monster,” she says softly against my skin. “Show me… who you really are. What all this is about. Is that asking too much? Can you do that?”
“Of course… if that’s what you really want.”
“I do.”
17
EMBER
Being with Roman is about as close to being on drugs that I think I’ll ever be. Then again, maybe it’s better because I’ve always been told that it’s never as good as the first time. But with him, it just seems to be getting better and better.
And it’s not just the sex. The way he treats me when we’re together, whether it’s in public or private, it’s like he’s dedicated himself to me. When I speak, I have his attention. More importantly, if I speak at work, he makes damn sure I’m heard.
Is this what it feels like to have someone show up for you? It’s only been three weeks. That’s no time in terms of a relationship or to build any kind of serious bond with someone. And yet, when he looks at me—even if it happens to be while I’m at work—I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. It’s insane to think about the fact that I could be standing right by the stage while women in G-strings twerk against a pole and he still only has eyes for me.
But the real headscratcher? I think it’s starting to happen both ways. Lots of good-looking men come into the club and plentyof them try to flirt with me. Before, I might give them a second glance if they’re particularly handsome. Now… it’s like they’re not even there.
I’m standing by the bar, waiting for the bartender. He’s in the middle of serving about seven mixed drinks for a party of men in the far corner. When he’s done with that, he’s got to take a break. I’ve been trying to make a point of reminding him every night he works since he tends to forget.
But while I wait for him, I find myself looking over my shoulder at the mirror in the sky looking down at me. I know Roman’s watching. Sometimes, I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck like a warm kiss.
I want this to be real. I want that so bad I can taste it.
I hate that in the end, it can’t be. Eventually, Rastelli’s going to call on me again and I’ll have to decide once and for all which side of the line I’m really on. The problem is that now, I’m not so sure anymore.
The last drink is put on the tray and the waitress walks off with it. The bartender looks up at me and I nod, mouthingTake your breakat him. He nods and nudges his partner, letting him know that he’s going on break.
From there, I start to walk back to my office. I only get about halfway across the room when Natasha stops me. The bruises on her face and neck have faded significantly. Through her makeup, you can barely even tell she was ever injured.
“Hey, listen, we might have a little problem,” she says quickly.
Ugh. I hate hearing those words. “I’ll let Junie know. Point the guy out to me.”
“It’s not that.” She glances behind and above me, to Roman’s office. “It’s something else.”
“What’s going on?”
She sighs and leans into me. “Just follow me to the VIP room. Act casual.”
She turns and walks away. I watch her for a few seconds, confused, but interested. Casually, I walk after her, pausing to check in with tables as I go to make it look good.
The VIP room isbusytonight. Every table I pass has at least one client with a dancer gyrating on their laps. It’s the weekend, though. We usually do pretty well on nights like this.
Natasha is standing at the entrance to the next hallway where the biggest VIP room is. It’s a spot that we usually reserve for any celebrity guests who might come through. I walk up to her and ask, “What’s going on?”
