ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER TWO

"I hired temporary management to assist Will at the restaurant," Nate explained, picking up a folder from the file tier. "And rotational guards for nightfall."

"Cherry's cognizant," Brad elucidated. "She was more than inclined to have my personal number on speed dial, just in case the club requires attention—if or when I am not on the premises. I swear if she hounds me at any point while you are on vacation, soaking up the sun, I want a generous raise and new wheels."

"We commissioned an auxiliary team of security to manage Club 11," Nate continued, adjusting his black-framed reading glasses. "I assume Vincent was disinclined to represent on your behalf?"

"Undetermined," I clipped, tapering down aggravated bitterness. "I'll discuss matters with him this evening."

Brad bent an eyebrow. "Why isn't Vincent's agreement already set in stone?"

Because the annoying brother of mine likes to defy me. "Are you authorised to ask me questions?"

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Brad slumped onto the leather sofa. "I apologise, Boss," he said flatly, popping a pre-rolled joint between his pinched lips. "Remind me to stay in my lane next time."

"I have told you on numerous occasions," I remind him, and he winked. "You don't fucking listen."

"Selective hearing is a cause for instant dismissal," Josh taunted, his arms folding at his chest. "Or, in some instances, a miraculous disappearance."

"Have a bastard day off." Brad's lips twisted in haughty disdain. "I am not going anywhere, Joshy Boy." He spread his arms over the sofa's rear, marijuana fumes crawling from his mouth. "Bossman's invested. Plus, he mightn't admit sentiments aloud, but he loves me dearly. I am, after all, his blissful favourite."

"Why must you antagonise your peers?" I was seconds away from wringing his neck. "Isn't there something more productive for you to do in life?"

"What's the alternative? Humdrum silence?" Brad frowned. "Excuse me for possessing a sense of humour. I shall remain tight-lipped and acquiescent for the rest of today's shenanigans. How tedious and boring?"

I could never be so fortunate. "If you insist."

Brad parted his lips to clapback, remembered his blasé agreement, and wired his mouth shut instead.

Nate chuckled. "I give him less than five minutes."

"Ten," Josh mused, itching his chin. "Ten beautiful, silent minutes."

Both men watched Brad intently, their smirks taunting his unrestrained impulses. Long-standing uncommunicativeness weighing heavily in our proximity, he leaned forward to snub the joint and slipped a toothpick to the corner of his lips. His knee-bobbing up and down, he clamped a hand over it, muffled a curse, stood abruptly and stormed out of the office. His angry vitriol on the guards echoed soon after.

Glimpsing at his watch, Nate said, "Three minutes."

"Fuck," Josh spat, extracting two fifty-pound notes from his wallet. He slapped money onto Nate's upward-facing palm. "Honestly, I thought his ego might save him."

"No," Nate drawled, tucking the money into his back pocket. "Ego be damned. Brad's too gregarious for his own good." Weaving his inked fingers together, he smiled triumphantly. "Drinks on you tonight."

"Fine." Josh checked a message on his phone. "The car has arrived. Do you need anything before we leave, Sir?"

Tossing down the folders, I unpackaged a bottle of newly delivered Clive Christian and sprayed my neck and wrists. I craved a cigarette but opted for no-smoking until after the ceremony. Alexa's never complained about my bad habits, not once, but I am unprepared to kiss my bride at the altar with a taste of nicotine or cannabis on my tongue. "Any updates from security?"