Casing ✔️

Chapter 20

I didn't pay him any mind as he and James started talking by the table. I didn't look towards him, either, as I sat down next to James and set a plate with food in front of him. He smiled back and kissed my hand, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. I smiled back and took a bite of my ham-and-cheese filled roll, acting like I belonged.

Because I did. If James was just a tiny bit serious about everything he'd said to me, I did belong.

"Is this the new normal, then?" Damian asked, arching a brow towards both of us. "You're not coming to the office, because your future wife is still asleep? Not paying attention to your job, because she makes you breakfast?"

James turned towards his friend, and chuckled. "Just wait. One day you'll be just as whipped."

"I doubt it."

"Do you always meet here in the mornings?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I usually meet him at his house, then we go to the office, and our days go on from there." James turned to me again, and said, "But today I didn't want to leave you sleeping alone."

"It's the weekend," I protested, "you work on weekends?"

"There's no weekends for us," Damian said.

I nodded, shrugging like I didn't know. I did know—at least dad could work at any time of day, no matter what day of the week. Maybe I thought it'd be different since they were bosses. Or, soon-to-be boss and consigliere.

They kept talking for a while, and I occupied my mouth with tiny bites of food to keep from angering Damian any more. Not that I'd mind. He deserved to be put into place, or at least to get that stick out of his ass.

To say I was happy he'd never end up with Nina was an understatement. Though, if I ended up with James he'd probably be just as close to my life.

"We're taking care of the rest of them tonight," Damian said, typing something on his phone. "I don't care how many moles there are, I just want them gone. Dad too. Told me to take care of it."

"I swear he's delegating more and more shit to us to prepare for the day he's no longer around," James commented with a grin. He stretched and placed one arm on the back of my chair, the other behind his own head. "How many tonight?"

"Six." Damian smirked, and I had a short moment of weakness where I completely understood why my sister was so obsessed.

"Fuck," James groaned. "Bullets?"

"Could do poison. Less to clean up." Damian leaned back, shrugging casually.

"Nah, that's hard to fix with the authorities." James was toying with a coaster between his fingers. A pretty one, marbled stone, it looked like, with a golden rim. I liked looking at how his fingers moved, more than listening very much ti the conversation about how to end so many people's lives.

I understood, though. They were traitors. They sold information and wares to other families and organizations in the city, and they deserved punishment. I just found the coaster—and his fingers—very, very beautiful.

"Bullets, then," Damian confirmed, startling me. "Are we boring you, Elina?" he asked, probably as a reaction the the sound I made.

"No," I replied, raising my chin.

"She's probably still exhausted from last night," James said, grinning so widely it must've hurt his cheeks as he looked at me.

Damian groaned. "Good for you," he said, "I'll see you tonight." He got up, and pulled a jacket from his chair over his shoulder, and added, "Don't wear him out, Elina."