But that doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by her or the fact that she’s back. I need to come face-to-face with her. There’s a lot that was never said, and maybe it’s better to have left the unsaid at that, but I don’t think I could just pretend I don’t know her.
Millie was everything once. And I’m not sure time fades that, at least not when it’s unresolved. And even though I didn’t chase after her, even though I didn’t go and look for her, what we had is very much unresolved.
Because just the sight of her makes me feel. It takes me back a decade, and I feel as if I’ve been thrust back to the exact timeperiod when she was mine and I let her go. That’s what I did. I let her go. She walked away, and I let her—I put up zero fight.
Lorenzo is sitting in the back at a six-person round table with two goons standing behind him. Bullet snorts, his gaze no doubt finding him at the same time. Viking and Goose clear their throats behind us.
The four of us make our way toward the table. He likely watched us walk past the windows in the front of the restaurant, but doesn’t look up from his phone until our approach to the table.
I watch as he stands from his seat. His gaze flicks between us, meeting ours one at a time before he dips his chin slightly and tells us to take a seat. I tug the chair out but don’t sit down until Bullet does, and then the rest of us sink down after him.
Lorenzo is all about unwritten rules, respect, and long-winded meetings. We give him this because it’s going to be mutually beneficial, and if I’m being honest, selfishly, I want to be as involved in that strip club as humanly possible.
I want to ingrain myself in a way where Millie and I have no choice but to be near one another. I’m not sure what I’ll be doing after that, but make no mistake about it, Millie will know I’m there.
Right here in front of her face.
Whatever happens after that, or what she does with that information, is a different story, but our paths will cross.
They will have no other choice.
“So you wanted a meet. Let’s talk,” Lorenzo calls out just as a waiter sets down three baskets of bread.
I don’t say a fucking word, but I do reach for a slice of warm, fresh bread and a pat of butter. As the butter slides across the bread, I listen to the conversation. I want it to take off. There is a lot of chatter about Cidney and her well-being.
Thankfully, he doesn’t ask any of us if we were involved in his piece-of-shit kid being arrested. Because we were. We were the only reason he was arrested. And we’d planned on having him killed in prison. Goffredo just beat us to it. He was too cowardly to face the consequences of his actions, so he ended his life instead.
He knew what was waiting for him. And if I’m being honest with myself, I can’t really blame the guy, mainly because I knew exactly what was waiting for him. There was a lot of pain in his future.
A lot.
“We did. It seems as if our plans of going legit are not going to be fruitful enough to balance our club and stay afloat,” Bullet begins.
Which surprises me, because I didn’t realize he had told Lorenzo any of our future club plans. I don’t think I would have said any of that, but I’m sure he’s got his reasons. And then I watch Lorenzo’s lips curve up into a grin.
“I hate to hear that you aren’t able to go in the direction you would prefer, but I can’t deny that I’m glad you’re here and speaking with me. Does this mean you would like to extend our professional relationship?”
Bullet clears his throat. “After everything that happened, I wasn’t sure that a working relationship could or would be mutually beneficial between us,” he says. “But it seems as though we have different strengths that our organizations can use together.”
Lorenzo nods a couple of times, tearing off a piece of bread with his teeth before he leans back in his seat. His gaze slowly slides up to meet Bullet’s, then he flicks his attention to each one of us before he moves it back to Bullet.
I wonder what’s going through his head. I have to admit that if there is one thing about Lorenzo, it’s that he’s very fuckinggood at hiding his thoughts. Though I think that comes more from self-preservation than anything else. You can’t be a mob boss with your thoughts easily read.
“I like this,” Lorenzo states. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Before we iron out any details, I would like to add a clause to our contract. Something written somewhere that it’s agreed upon mutually,” Bullet begins, “that our businesses are not actually intermingled. I don’t want any confusion. Nobody will be taking over any clubs or territories. This is business and only business.”
Lorenzo, again, is completely fucking unreadable, but I think I like that best about him. He talks a lot, beats around a million bushes, but at the same time, he’s also a straight shooter, even if he dances around and takes a few winding roads to get to that straight shot.
“I can be good with that. As an organization, we like to have fingers in many pies,” he begins what I assume is going to be a painfully long and drawn-out speech. “I like knowing I have allies from north to south, and the Vicious Reapers are a good ally to have, in my opinion. The past is the past, and we will agree to these terms and move forward.”
“I like the sound of that,” Bullet announces. “And I think we can come up with something that benefits us all around.”
A few moments later, two antipasti platters appear, followed by bowls of pasta. I guess we’re eating family style. I wish I didn’t have to stay here and eat anything. I wish I could get in my car and drive to the club. I’m not too far from it now, but we’re going to discuss the security aspect for said club, and it must be handled delicately so we don’t offend Lorenzo.
MILLIE
I can’t keep my eyes off the front door. I keep waiting for the Reapers to walk through. They don’t. The entire evening, I am distracted, my focus more on the door and the men walking through it than the ones watching me on stage.
