I clench and unclench my hands to get rid of the numbness. It makes the cuts open, and it fucking hurts like hell. But I don't give a shit. I'm glad it hurts.
"You alright, boss?" Johnny keeps fucking asking me the same damn question every hour. No. I'm not alright.
"I'm fine." When I register what I've answered, I snort a laugh. That's what she'd say.
I take a seat at the desk in the corner of the office. It's on the opposite side of the room, across from the pool table. It's a sleek-looking glass desk with steel trimmings. I don't think I've ever sat here. My fingers tap along the glass top, waiting for our next drop.
It's so fucking tedious. So damn boring. I don't need to do this shit. I've got more money than I'd ever wanted, and nothing to spend it on. What the fuck did I even use to do sitting here?
"Boss?" I look up with a scowl, and then feel like a prick. It's not his fault. But then again, I am a prick.
I take in a deep breath and manage to sound somewhat normal. "What?"
"Just wanted you to know you still have those requests."
"What requests?" I ask.
"To sell out if you wanted to." My forehead pinches in confusion. What the fuck is he talking about? He answers before I have to ask. "I know you said to stop bringing it up, but I just thought you might like to know."
That's when it clicks. Give my business over to those thugs? I'm always getting shit offers. They don't want to pay the right amount to take my clients, and they'd ruin this shit anyway. They don't know what they're doing like I do. "Pass." That's an easy decision.
Johnny gives me a tight smile and nods. "Just thought maybe you'd rather do something else now." He takes a seat on the sofa, staring at the field. A few players are out running gauntlets; fucking sucks to be them.
Do something else. Like what? Just run the books for my Pops? That'd be boring as hell. I never really wanted to do anything other than make a name for myself. Get laid, and get paid. That was my motto for the longest time. But now I don't fucking want it anymore. I don't want this. Maybe I will sell the business. Maybe she'd want me then.
I shake my head and rap my knuckles across the glass tabletop; no she won't. It doesn't change a damn thing about who I am. I know it, and she knows it.
But I'm the boss' son. He tried to keep me out of the life, but I demanded my way in. You can't leave the family. Sure as fuck not when you're the boss' son. My chest hurts just thinking that. I'll never be the kind of man Becca deserves. I was born into the mob. There's only one way out, and I'm not ready to die.
A knock at the door distracts me from my morbid thoughts. I sigh and click my phone on. Ten a.m. Too fucking early. This day needs to get going so I can get home. I'll figure out a reason to be there when the time comes. I just don't want to be here.
Johnny opens the door, and my pops' voice booms through the hall.
"Johnny!" I raise my eyes to watch, although I don't lift my head. Pops pats him on the back and gives him a warm smile. But it's off. He's waiting to hear about Clara. I know he is. Something's going on between the two of them. Not my business though. Not unless he hurts her. Then I'll make it my business.
"Good to see you, boss." Johnny makes eye contact and returns the smile. Ballsy. Johnny is most certainly ballsy. He's been a friend of mine for years, and I sure as shit couldn't do this business without him. But I don't like that he's sneaking around with my sister. And I sure as shit know that Pops doesn't like it. He better give it up soon and put a ring on her finger.
أنت تقرأ
Dirty Dom
العاطفيةI'm not always proud of the man I am, but when you grow up in a crime family, there aren't a lot of options. I do what I have to do, and more than often, I crave it. The power, the women, the money. All of it comes easy to me. Until Becca walked...
