I glance up at Rome and then flip him the bird. “Like I haven’t caught you with a stupid-ass smile on your face when you’re talking to your wife.”
“I’m just pointing out the glaring fact that you’ve been insisting to anyone who will listen that this is just a business arrangement.”
“It is.”
It’s not.
“Right.” Rome smirks, and I return my attention to my phone.
Wife: Four men feels excessive, Julian. I’m sure one will be fine. I just need a ride.
Me: Four men, Angel. Don’t argue with me. Text me when you get home.
Wife: Is it too needy of me to ask you to text me when you land in LA?
Me: You can never be too needy. I’ll keep you posted. Don’t worry about me, just have fun tonight. I should be home tomorrow.
Wife: *kissy face emoji*
“Fuck.”
I’m too fucking pissed off to agree with Carson as we stand in my building. My empty motherfucking building.
Empty aside from ten of my men who are all dead, all gutted. I know every single one of the men who works for me. I know their families. I visit them on holidays and invite them to my home for cookouts. These men weremy family.
And someone slaughtered them and took my product.
“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, his usually stoic face haggard as he kneels next to Theo, one of the men who’s been with us thelongest. Theo was in charge, and when shit went down, he had time to press Call on his phone, so we could hear what was happening.
“I found something,” Diego calls out, and I turn in surprise.
“How? The place is fucking empty.”
Millions worth of stones are gone.
Rage fuels me as I stride to where Diego’s holding an envelope in his gloved hand, and he passes it to me.
My name is written on the back.
Thanks for the heads up.
“The fuck does this mean?” I ask, showing it to the others. “This doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“No one knew about this shipment but our people,” Jack says, shaking his head. “There’s no way that word got out to any of our enemies.”
“We’re going to scour this fucking city, and I’m going to kill every single person who knows about this. It’s about to be a long fucking night.”
“Just the way I like it,” Carson says with a gleam in his eye. “Let’s go hunting, boys.”
More than forty-eight hours later,well past midnight, I stride into my house. I’m ready to fall into bed with my wife and sleep for a solid six hours before I fuck her for a week straight.
We’ve been married for almost a week, and I haven’t been inside her yet.
I should be fucking tortured for that.
Music fills the air as I close the door behind me, and all the tension that I’ve been carrying since I received that call at Rome’s place slowly eases out of me. Natasha is sitting at the piano, playing a song I know well, and fuck if it isn’t the best homecoming I’ve ever had.
Before I reach her, I shed my jacket and tie and roll my sleeves on my forearms, then slip out of my shoes, making myself comfortable and giving myself a moment to listen, to take in every note as my girl plays.
