CONTENT AND TRIGGER WARNING: The first half of this chapter features graphic violence (dismemberment, tasing, gun violence, descriptions of blood) and a very brief mention of sexual abuse involving minors in relation to a character's background (again, it's brief, mentioned in conversation, and I don't go into detail). There are also references to domestic violence and the death of a parent. I said this was going to be dark and I meant that. These trigger/content warnings are always here for a reason.
James sighs and sips his drink at the bar, staring at the text he just sent Dahlia as he waits for Steve's arrival. The old him would wonder if he was being too forward, but that should give her some fantasy material for the night. He can still feel the corner of Dahlia's lips on his. His body is on fire.
Fuck.
Why did Steve have to text him about the shipment? It's early, and James has a lot of questions as to why that is, but he also can't get his mind off of Dahlia. Her dress, her lips, her gorgeous shiny hair flowing down her back... and her legs. He had to stop himself from leaning over the table just to get a better look at them in those heels.
And then the way she called him sir today. James can't get the word out of his head - the way her lips pursed as she said it. Even through dinner, he couldn't stop thinking about the way she would look on her knees, staring up at him asking him for permission. He wanted to corrupt her the moment he first saw her. James mistakenly thought of her as something innocent and sweet, but her Instagram account shows him that she's anything but that. It turns him on even more. All she needs is a little coaxing and a push in the right direction. She'll be his soon enough. He just needs some patience. James doesn't lose. He never has.
His cock strains against his pants and he takes a deep breath and drains the rest of his whiskey, clearing his throat.
"Another, Mr. Barnes?" The bartender asks.
"No, Ned. I'm fine. Thank you."
Ned nods and takes the glass while James stares at the ring his whiskey glass leaves behind. Dahlia seems just as smitten with him as he is with her. The way she was looking at them as they exited the restaurant made him want to pin her to Parker's car and fuck her in front of everyone so that they all know who she belongs to.
He hasn't felt this obsessed with a woman in a long time.
His phone dings.
[Stevie]: Outside.
James heads outside toward Steve's black Jaguar, and climbs in the passenger seat. Steve is in a black leather jacket, a white t-shirt, and jeans. He only wears suits when he works. Otherwise, he's far more casual than James.
"Sorry about ruining your date."
"It's fine," James replies.
"How was it?"
"It was a business meeting."
"You broke out the Monte Bello Cab, didn't you?" James is silent, his lips forming a thin line. Steve cackles, leaning over to clap him on the shoulder. "Keep telling yourself it's a business meeting, bud."
Steve peels out of the parking lot and drives toward the docks.
"What's the situation?" James asks as they hit the first light.
"No idea. Just got a text from Barton saying the shipment arrived."
"Something's wrong," James mumbles as they speed through a red light. His head whips around to glare at his best friend. "Will you calm the fuck down?! This isn't a race track."
"Okay, dad," Steve snorts.
"Punk."
"Jerk."
James is quiet, his mind running back to Dahlia. He sends her one more text, his impulses (and the alcohol) taking over.
Dinner tomorrow at 7:00. My house. Paradise Cove.
He drops the location and waits. It's probably too forward but he doesn't want to risk being interrupted. At home, he can turn his phone off and they can have some privacy. He'll cook for her. James's phone dings. It's her. Adrenaline rushes and he feels like a giddy teenager again.
[Dahlia]: urhouse? 🚩
He has to chuckle. Smart girl.
No red flags. Lots of staff around. I'll be on my best behavior.
She doesn't respond. He can see three grey dots appear and then disappearing. James feels nervous, his palms clammy. Finally, as Steve pulls up to the docks, she replies.
[Dahlia]: cani wear jens?
[Dahlia]: fuc. JJENS.
[Dahlia]: JEANSOMG i'm so drunk
He bites his lip. She's cute when she's drunk. Her face gets flushed and she tries to stop herself from giggling.
Hopefully she'll wear those jeans she wore the first day he walked into the shop.
Wear whatever you want. The most important thing is that you bring yourself.
[Dahlia]: k. Home now. Night james. thanku for the 4000 wine.
$400. And you're welcome.
[Dahlia]: see u tmrw.
Goodnight, Dahlia 🌸
"What the fuck are you smiling at?" Steve asks.
"Nothing," James replies, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
Steve raises an eyebrow.
"You like this chick, don't you?"
"Let's just deal with this shipment bullshit. I don't like to talk about my personal life."
"What personal life?" Steve grumbles.
They get out of the car and head toward the docks where Barton and the shipment are. Sam is beside him smoking a cigarette while he's on his phone.
There's a third man that James recognizes instantly and rage bubbles in his chest. He's one of Walker's cronies who decided to show up. Lennox. He's done so much blow and steroids to make himself look as intimidating as possible that he's completely destroyed his brain cells. Lennox might be the dumbest motherfucker James has ever met. Walker usually uses him for intimidation purposes. He's Walker's best asset.
Barton is arguing with Lennox, sticking his finger in his face while Sam looks over his shoulder, watching them with an amused expression. Barton and Lennox are screaming at each other in Russian, both of them red in the face. Steve sighs heavily and Sam walks over while the other two men are so caught up in fighting that they don't see what's going on.
"Evening, gentlemen."
"Sam," James replies as he reaches out to shake his friend's hand. "What are you doing here?"
"Barton said he might need backup, or someone to pull him off of He-Man over there."
"Fuck sakes," Steve whispers.
"Let me do the talking," James says softly. They stride toward the two men and James takes a deep breath, forcing a vicious smile. He has a feeling things aren't going to end so well for Lennox tonight. If James doesn't kill him, Barton will.
"Gentlemen? What's going on?"
"They're taking our fuckin' product and putting it into evidence!" Barton snaps.
James raises his eyebrows, laughing. Walker was hoping James wouldn't catch on to his little plan. It's too bad Steve tracks these shipments like a hawk. Steve grins and they exchange a glance.
"Oh, you think so, do you?"
"I know so," Lennox replies. "Walker's orders. He says if you're not gonna give him 20% of the profits, he'll take it and sell it himself to make up for it."
James growls and Lennox whistles. The sound of car doors slamming to his left gets his attention and he watches Hoskins and Rumlow emerge from the shadows. They're both low-level detectives at the LAPD. They've been working narcotics for too damn long and they're both so corrupt that they'll take any job or any bribe. The entire department is rotten. Any time someone tries to come in to clean things up, they're pushed out by the old boy's club.
"Hi, James!" Rumlow calls. "It's been a while."
"Uh-huh."
"We're confiscating this shipment," Hoskins informs him. He flashes his badge, as though it means something to James.
"You're not taking anything."
"You wanna start a turf war?" Rumlow laughs.
"Walker's already started one with me by taking out those patrols on Skid Row."
Rumlow and Hoskins chuckle, glancing at each other.
"Aww, looks like your little development is in trouble! Maybe you should try giving in for once."
James tucks his hands in the pockets of his suit, toeing at the concrete.
"Here's the thing, Rumlow. I don't give in, and I don't bow to anyone. Not even the Chief of Police."
"Lennox!" Hoskins shouts. "Start unloading–"
James pulls out his gun. Steve, Sam, and Barton follow suit. Lennox, Hoskins, and Rumlow aim their weapons at them.
"Lennox, if you so much as look at that shipment, I will turn this place into the fucking Wild Bunch. Do you understand me?" James's voice comes out as a snarl. He's done playing games. The more Walker fucks with him, the closer he pushes him to a turf war that's been years in the making.
Years ago when he first started in this business, James's heart would have been pounding at this moment everyone drew their weapons. He would have hesitated, thinking he could just talk it out. But now? Now, he's seen too much and been through too much to fuck around with diplomacy. People like Walker will take and take and take until there's nothing left.
"You're going to walk away," James growls. "All three of you. And you're going to tell your boss that this isn't a negotiation. If he wants to sit down with me, he can meet me face to face like a fucking man, but I don't put up with this bullshit. I've killed people for a hell of a lot less."
"Be careful confessing to shit like that to a couple of cops," Hoskins growls.
James's eyes harden.
"You're too much of a pussy to bring me in, Hoskins. And you know it. Your whole department needs me or you'll crumble and take this entire city with you." James smirks. "Besides, it's not like I can't still put a hit out on you from prison. Even alllll the way in San Quentin, you'll never be able to get rid of me."
Lennox fires his gun, grazing James's shoulder, ripping through thousands of dollars worth of silk and flesh. He feels a burning sensation, followed by a stinging pain that courses through his left arm. His hand turns into a bone white fist and he stares down as blood pumps like lava from the flesh wound, soaking through the fabric. James smirks and looks up at Lennox. There's fear in his eyes. He expected James to go down, to flinch, to do anything other than what he's doing now. James likes to catch people at their most vulnerable and surprise them.
He scoffs and his lips curl into a malicious grin.
"You ruined my suit."
Lennox's massive arm is shaking. He's never actually fired a gun at James. The most they've done is just stare each other down. Lennox tries to control his tremor, but can't quite get a handle on it. James cracks his neck, tilting his head from side to side as his vertebrae pop softly.
"Barton?" He rumbles. "Take care of them."
Clint fires two quick shots before Rumlow and Hoskins can react. Their bodies flop onto the ground and James hears screaming. Clint never shoots to kill, only to grotesquely wound. He'll take Rumlow and Hoskins to Walker's front door and leave them there as a message. James knows exactly how to get him to bend to his will. If he takes out his lackeys, James gets what he wants.
Lennox is frozen with fear. James expected a little more of a can-do attitude from such a big man. It takes him a few seconds to regain his composure. He growls and rushes James, but Sam and Steve grab him, slamming him into a large shipment crate and holding him there. Sam pulls out a taser from his jacket, pressing it to the man's thick neck. James smells burning flesh as Lennox screams while Steve clamps a hand over his mouth.
James puts his gun back into his holster and removes a large hunting knife from his inside pocket. He struts toward Lennox, who moans as his body recovers from 50,000 volts. Steve pistol whips him. Again and again and again. Blood spurts onto the ground and he spits out a tooth. Sam picks it up and tosses it into the water. The tide will take care of it.
"Give me his hand," James says calmly.
"Wha'reyougonnado?" Lennox moans. Steve hits him one more time. His eyes are swelling shut and blood leaks down his face.
"Don't worry," James laughs. "I'm not gonna kill you. You know that!" He reaches over and pinches the man's cheeks. "Don't worry about your co-workers either. They'll live. Right, Barton?"
"Yep!" Clint calls as he's talking to Peter on the phone.
James turns back to Lennox, a vicious glint in his icy blue eyes.
"I bet you didn't see this coming, huh? You should have aimed for the head."
Lennox snarls and tries to break free. Sam tasers him again and his body collapses as they hold him upright. His head lolls to the side and he moans softly. James continues.
"We're going to take you somewhere and use you as leverage. You're valuable, and I need something to negotiate with." He flips the knife in his hand. "But I am going to take your finger."
There's more struggling and more screaming.
"Shh... shh..." James whispers. "Get him down on the ground."
There's a crack as Sam kicks out the back of Lennox's knees and he goes down. They get him face down onto the pavement and James kneels onto his wrist while Steve wrenches his other hand behind his back. Sam aims a gun at the back of his head and cocks the hammer.
"I never wanted it to go this far," James says softly. "But your boss just loves to test my goddamn patience. Taking away those patrols really fucked me over. All he has to do is agree to 12% and this stops, Lennox! I'm not the bad guy here..."
"Fuck you!" Lennox chokes. "You sick son of a bitch!"
"Don't you have pictures of underage girls on your phone, Lennox?" James inquires. "And aren't you supposed to be on–" he gasps and covers his mouth with one hand. "Probation?! But it's fine, right? Because you've got your big cop friend to protect you."
"I'll fucking kill you," Lennox snarls into the pavement.
"No you won't!" James chirps happily. His eyes are wide, blazing with righteous anger. "You wanna talk about who's sick?" He leans over and whispers in his ear. "Not me, sweetheart. I am a professional fucking criminal. I don't kill people that I don't have to, and I don't fucking prey on little girls. You're lucky I'm not cutting your goddamn dick off... although, that's not a bad idea, hmm?"
Lennox sobs. James pats him on the top of the head.
"We'll put a pin in that one for now. Now shut the fuck up and let me concentrate."
He presses the blade to Lennox's pinky finger that's adorned with a class ring. He was a football player in high school. James remembers him. Bone cracks and crunches as Lennox howls like a wild animal. Blood oozes from the wound and there's one final snap before the finger comes off. James picks it up and examines it as blood drips onto the leg of his pants.
"Will ya look at that?" He breathes. "Almost a clean cut."
"Christ, Barnes, put that shit away," Sam groans.
James slides the ring off and pockets it.
Peter's car pulls up and he steps out, helping Barton load Rumlow and Hoskin's unconscious bodies into the back seat.
"Parker?" James calls.
"Yes, Mr. Barnes."
He holds out the detached finger and Peter winces.
"I know," James whispers. "I'm sorry, but it's gotta be done."
Peter swallows, his face turning grey.
"Deliver this with those two fucking goons. Tell Walker if he wants to negotiate, I'll meet him tomorrow morning in my office. And if he pulls a gun on you, don't be afraid to take out his kneecaps. We're done being diplomatic, right?"
"Y– yes, sir."
James claps him on the shoulder.
"You're a good kid, Peter."
Peter nods and he and Barton get into the car and speed off. James sighs, running a hand through his hair. He's furious. He saunters back toward Lennox, almost dancing as he walks. His anger builds quickly like a bottle waiting to pop. James kicks him three times in the ribs, listening to the little grunting sounds he makes as the tip of his shoe connects with Lennox's soft body.
"This was supposed to be a good night for me, Lennox! AND YOU FUCKED IT UP! YOU–" Slam! "SON OF A BITCH!"
Three more kicks and Steve walks over to him and puts a hand on his shoulder.
"Buck... stop."
James pulls his foot away from Lennox's unconscious body. He must have passed out from the shock. His face is beet red and he draws himself back up to his full height and wipes the sweat away from his brow.
"Sorry, Stevie."
"Sam and I'll load him into the car. We'll take him to the warehouse in Skid Row."
"Sure," James whispers.
"Take my car home," Steve offers, handing him his keys. James puts them in the same pocket as his phone. "Let Sam and I take care of it. We'll torch their cars and everything's gonna be fine. If anything comes through from Walker, you forward it to me and let me take care of it tonight, okay?"
"Okay."
Steve grabs him by the shoulders.
"You need to chill the fuck out."
"Yeah." He breathes deeply. "Yeah, I know."
"It's not good for your blood pressure, man, going off like that. You're my brother, and I love you, but you've gotta learn to stop being so goddamn..."
"I know what I am," he mumbles.
"Okay," Steve chuckles.
He helps Steve and Sam load Lennox into Sam's car. He heads back to Steve's Jaguar and fishes the keys out of his pocket. His phone tumbles to the ground and he curses softly. When he picks it up to see if it's cracked, it lights up. There's another text.
[Dahlia]: Sent an attachment.
James arches a brow and unlocks his phone. His mouth drops open when he sees a picture of her standing in front of a bathroom mirror in a tank top and a pair of panties, biting her lip and staring into the camera. She has mascara smeared underneath her eyes and her hair is messy... and those lips. Fuck. Suddenly, the events of this evening and the blood on his hands don't matter.
"Bad girl," he whispers. He bites his lip and adjusts his cock in his pants before he types out a reply.
I'm going to pretend I didn't see that.
He pockets his phone and grins. As he gets into the car and drives home, James doesn't get a response. He goes to sleep with that picture burned into his mind.
🌺 🌺 🌺
Dahlia wakes up with a pounding headache. She passed out on top of her blankets instead of underneath them. Basil is sitting on her back, meowing loudly.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" She whispers.
She reaches behind her and paws at him to get him off of her, grabs her phone, and rolls onto her back. With one eye open, she checks her messages. There are some emails from the store, and a missed text from James. She frowns, reading it.
"Going to pretend I didn't see that? What is he talking–" she opens the texting app and screams, throwing her phone across the room. "NO NO NO NO! WAAAANDAAAAAAA!"
Wanda comes barrelling through the door, her eyes wide with panic.
"What?! What's going on?!"
"I sent James a picture last night!"
"What kind of–" Wanda gasps. "You fucking didn't."
"I diiiiid!" Dahlia whines with her head in her hands. "What the fuck is wrong with me?!"
"You're horny and unstable," Wanda replies, walking over to her phone and picking it up.
She laughs and shakes her head as she unlocks it. Wanda knows her passcode just in case Dahlia gets too drunk or high and decides to go on Tinder, swipe right on everyone, and message them her most personal thoughts. Thank God for Wanda. She can delete messages, but this? Not even Wanda can fix this.
"What do I do?!" Dahlia whines.
"You text him back, tell him you were drunk– You were drunk, weren't you?"
"Definitely. Look at the other messages. I could barely spell."
Wanda scrolls through her phone and her eyebrows shoot up.
"Uhhh..."
"What?" Dahlia asks as she curls into a ball and hugs her knees.
"He wants you to have dinner at his place tonight."
Dread fills Dahlia's veins like ice water.
"Fuck no. After that?! I can't look him in the eye. You saw the picture, right?"
"I did," Wanda confirms. "You looked hot, though."
"That's not the point, Wanda!" Dahlia screams. "I'm supposed to be doing fucking business for him! He's paying me five grand and I just sent him a picture of me in my goddamn underwear!"
"Did you say five grand?"
"Yes," Dahlia sighs. "For some centerpieces for a fundraiser."
"How many?"
"Like seven of them? I don't know. I can't remember how many big tables there were."
Wanda thrusts out the phone.
"You have to text him back."
"I can't!"
"You have to! We already spent Jenn's money on rent and groceries. We need fucking income, Dahlia!"
Dahlia sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. She thrusts out one hand blindly.
"Give me the phone."
Wanda hands it to her and she opens the texting app.
Hi, James. I'm really sorry about the drunk texts and the picture last night. I'm so embarrassed. I really had a good time at dinner and I think I might have had a little TOO much fun. I don't want to overstep my boundaries. The picture was inappropriate and totally unprofessional. Again, I'm so sorry. I hope this doesn't affect our professional relationship.
Wanda reads over her shoulder.
"That's good. Send it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Send it!"
Dahlia presses send and turns her phone over so that she can't see it. It dings immediately.
[James]: Are you still coming for dinner? I'm cooking salmon.
Her jaw hangs open and Wanda laughs.
"He liked the picture, at least! He cooks?"
"Wanda what the hell am I going to do?"
"You're going to text him back, tell him you're going to dinner, and then you're going to drink a bunch of water– not Mountain Dew, recover from your hangover, and look so fucking hot when you go to his place tonight. Where is it?"
Dahlia scrolls up in her phone.
"Holy shit! Paradise Cove!"
"Yeah, you're going to dinner with him. Text him back."
She does.
I'll be there at 7:00. Salmon is great.
[James]: Looking forward to it. 😉
He did the wink again. Well, he's definitely not mad. Dahlia flops onto her back and stares up at the ceiling.
"What am I doing?" She whispers.
"Going to dinner with a hot–"
"If you say Mafia boss, I will throw up on you."
"I wasn't gonna say it."
"You were thinking it," she mutters. The memories of the night are starting to come back and Dahlia bites her lip remembering the kisses James gave her as she was heading home. She decides not to tell Wanda. They're her little secret.
Wanda laughs. They spend the day easing Dahlia's hangover. She throws up a couple of times, takes a shower, throws up again, chugs four cans of Mountain Dew, and they sit on the couch waiting for the clock to hit 5:00 so that Dahlia can start getting ready. They watch hours of mindless reality TV. As Wanda is in the kitchen making a cup of tea, Dahlia's phone dings again. It's from James.
[James]: Forgot to send this so you don't feel so bad about the picture.
Dahlia chokes on her drink and Wanda looks up as she drops her phone.
"You good, babe?"
"Wrong pipe," Dahlia chokes.
Wanda grins and keeps making her tea. Dahlia texts him back.
Did you get a haircut?
[James]: That's what you noticed?
[James]: This is from a few months ago. Just didn't want you to feel embarrassed about the picture last night.
She almost scoffs, but holds it back. It's more like he's bragging. But, Jesus Christ, his fucking body. She zooms in on his hipbones and squeezes her legs together. She wants to lick them. She just wishes those shorts were pulled down a little lower.
Well, I don't feel embarrassed anymore. Mission accomplished, James.
[James]: 😉
She melts and locks her phone when Wanda comes back with her mug of tea.
"Are you sure everything's okay?"
"Mmhmm."
"He texted you again, didn't he?"
"Yep. The winky face."
Wanda sighs.
"Always the winky face."
"It's my kryptonite," Dahlia replies.
They keep watching TV. Dahlia can't stop thinking about that fucking picture. It haunts her as she gets ready, curling her hair, and deciding to wear a light blue tank top and a pair of black jeans with her favorite converse. Wanda told her not to go casual tonight, but she doesn't want to be hungover in high heels. Besides, James told her to wear whatever she wanted.
She orders an Uber, hugs Wanda, and promises to text or call if anything goes wrong. Another notification comes through her Venmo.
James has paid you $250 for Uber.
She smirks as she gets into the car and texts him.
How did you know?
[James]: Wild guess.
I can't accept this.
[James]: Yes you can, Dahlia. I'll see you in a bit.
It's a 40 minute ride from downtown to James's house. Dahlia gets the driver to stop at a liquor store right across the street from the flower shop. She picks up a bottle of $40 chardonnay and darts across the street to grab a bouquet from the fridge. It's the least she could do to apologize for sending him that picture, even though $40 wine probably tastes like shit to him.
She gets back into the car and checks her phone. She'll get there exactly at 7:00. She's so nervous, she feels sick and has to keep looking out the window, rolling it down to breathe in some fresh air.
When the Uber pulls up to James's house, she can hardly believe her eyes. It's fucking massive with enormous windows to let the sunlight in. He lives on a secluded part of the beach in a gated property. When the Uber pulls up to the driveway, James steps out of the house in a black and white checkered suit with a black dress shirt unbuttoned to expose a tiny bit of skin. Dahlia steps out of the car and looks herself up and down, gesturing to him.
"I'm underdressed," she laughs.
He beams and she feels dizzy.
"You look great."
James eyes the bouquet and bottle of wine in her hand. Dahlia stammers as she thrusts them out to him.
"This is apology wine and apology flowers. More oleanders."
"Apology?"
"I'm still so sorry about that text," she whispers, blushing.
James reaches out and grasps her chin. She gasps at the contact as he tips her head upward.
"Don't be. Water under the bridge, doll."
"Will you at least take my apology gifts?" She laughs.
James chuckles, carefully taking them out of her hand. He lifts up the bottle of chardonnay and she winces, preparing herself for criticism.
"Sonoma chard," he whispers. "You know your wines."
"Educated guess. Figured you couldn't go wrong with California."
The truth is, she did some googling today to look up wine names and brands. He seems to know so much about it while Dahlia will drink two buck chuck from Trader Joe's and call it high end. A lot of the information was confusing and all of the tasting notes seemed made up.
"You've got that right," he breathes. "Come on in."
She follows him inside. His house is everything she imagined a rich person's house would look like, complete with actual statues in the foyer and a spiral staircase leading up to some bedrooms. His back is to her, so she takes the opportunity to snap a few pictures and send them to Wanda.
This is his fucking house!!!!!!sdkfsdlkfjf!!!
[wands 🍃]: mafia aaaaart.
Blocking you, bitch.
[wands 🍃]: empty threats. go make us some money, girlboss.
Thought you were gonna say get some dick.
[wands 🍃]: do that too 😜
She shakes her head and locks her phone, looking around the large foyer. The floor is white marble. James seems to like white marble a lot. She spots gold in it as she looks down and suddenly feels like she shouldn't have worn these cheap, ratty converse. Dahlia feels embarrassed to even be here.
"Should I take my shoes off?" She asks.
He looks over his shoulder and scoffs.
"Why would you do that?"
"I–"
"Come on," he whispers. "Kitchen's this way."
She nods. Dahlia spots a huge fluffy white cat napping on the floor as they head into the kitchen.
"Is she yours?"
Good question, idiot, she thinks.
"Yeah," James replies. "Her name is Alpine."
"She's pretty."
He chuckles as they reach the counter and he pours some water in a vase, putting the flowers in it and setting them by the window.
"She's lazy as hell."
Dahlia chuckles.
"So's mine."
"Basil, right?" James asks, leaning over to check on the food on the stove. It smells amazing. Her stomach growls. He has four pans going simultaneously. Dahlia can barely cook ramen without burning it.
She quirks an eyebrow at the mention of her cat's name.
"How did you know?"
"You have Instagram, Dahlia. I'm 35, but I'm not that out of touch." He smirks. "Cut an old man some slack, will ya?"
He's got a bit of a Brooklyn accent.
"You're not old," she whispers as she climbs on to a bar stool at the kitchen island. "So you saw all of my embarrassing college party photos."
"And the one of you smoking pot on the couch," he says with a wink as he uncorks the chardonnay she brought and pours them two glasses, sliding one to her. "You're a bad girl."
Her cheeks turn bright red and she takes a massive gulp of wine.
"Told you you were pretty when you blush," he breathes.
She drains her glass and he pours her another. Dahlia lets out a squeak of protest.
"Let's not repeat last night, shall we?"
"Why not?" James asks. He tilts his head.
Dahlia clears her throat and laughs as she twirls her wine glass between her palms. It's thin crystal. She feels like if she presses too hard, she'll break it.
"This is really unprofessional. I'm working for you."
"What? We can't be friends?"
Friends don't send friends shirtless selfies and pictures of them in their underwear.
She bites her lip.
"We can."
"Good," he breathes, sipping his wine. "I'd like to be friends."
Dahlia nods and he sets his wine glass down, taking off his suit jacket and setting it on a hook in the kitchen near the doorway. She watches him roll up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing muscular and lean forearms with thick veins running down them. James spots her watching him and grins. She expects him to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, he steps up to the stove and turns the burners off, plating their food.
"That was fast," she laughs.
"I started before you showed up. Figured you might be hungry with the hangover and all."
"Yeah, that was... rough."
He looks over his shoulder and chuckles.
"Well, you've got some hair of the dog to get you through it. And some protein."
He slides a plate over to her. It's grilled salmon with some kind of fancy glaze that looks amazing, asparagus, and rice. The oven dings and he chuckles.
"Shit. I almost forgot."
She watches him slip on a pair of oven mitts and pull out a tray of tater tots. Dahlia throws her head back and cackles.
"Tater tots!"
James looks over his shoulder and as he dishes them up for both of them.
"My mom used to make them all the time when I was a kid."
Dahlia smiles.
"That's sweet."
He shrugs.
"Yeah, well..."
"Are you still close with her?"
James nods.
"Yeah. My dad not so much, but I talk to my mom a lot."
"Must be nice," she whispers as she stabs at a spear of asparagus and pops it into her mouth. James watches her and she laughs, shaking her head. "Sorry."
"It's okay. Are you not close with your parents?"
She swallows hard.
"I, uh... my dad died when I was around fourteen."
"I'm sorry."
She shrugs.
"It happens."
"And your mother?"
Dahlia draws in a deep breath.
"She's in prison."
James seems to make the connection quick. There's a sense of heartbreak in his eyes. She's never seen them like this before. It makes her feel too vulnerable and she starts to shut down, looking away as her face turns red. She takes another large sip of wine as her heart races. Wanda is really the only other person she talks to about this stuff, and even then, it's only in passing. Dahlia still hasn't dealt with the trauma of her dad's death. Her aunt encouraged her to go to therapy, even set up appointments, but Dahlia coped in other ways. She acted out in school, started getting into fights, and stealing whiskey out of the liquor cabinet. She was dealing with it in her own way. The last thing she wanted to do was talk it out.
Now, 11 years later, she wishes she'd listened.
"Wow," he breathes.
"Yeah. I, uh, lived with my aunt until I was 18 and then moved in with Wanda. Did two semesters at USC before I dropped out and took over dad's shop."
"Dahlia that's–"
"Stupid."
"Admirable. Your father would be proud of you."
"Yeah, except I'm running that place into the fucking ground." She shakes her head.
James's brows pinch together.
"What do you mean?"
"We're barely staying afloat. I can't even afford to enroll in business courses for night school so that I can learn to manage this thing better–"
She's cut off by the sight of James sliding off of his stool and walking toward his jacket. He takes out a checkbook and writes in it.
"James–"
He waves a hand at her to tell her to be quiet, rips the check off, and slides it across the table. She looks down and sees $25,000 written on it. Made out to her. She blinks.
"What is this for?"
"I have two more parties coming up. My best friend's birthday on July 4th, which I'd like you to attend, and another fundraiser for Sharon Carter in a month and a half. I'd like you to do the floral arrangements for both of them. I'll pay for any other expenses you might need, including hiring delivery drivers and temporary staff."
She's overwhelmed, feeling like she might pass out.
"This is too much."
He rounds the kitchen island and grasps her by the chin, leaning down as he tilts her chin up so that she can meet his eyes. She feels his thumb run back and forth across her skin and fireworks explode in the pit of her stomach. Her mouth goes dry as James smirks, his eyes lingering on her lips. A wolfish smile spreads across his face.
"Dahlia," he whispers. "You should be paid what you're worth, and I think you're worth a hell of a lot more than that number I just wrote down. Do you understand?"
"Yes, James."
"Yes, sir."
Her lips part and her breath hitches. She can feel her skin heating up, blush creeping up her neckline in huge splotches. She gets like this when she gets anxious. Her throat feels tight and all she can do is stare into his gorgeous eyes.
"Yes, sir."
"Atta girl. You're going to take this money, and you're going to use it to pay yours and Wanda's rent. You'll order the flowers and we'll work together to come up with some concepts for the next two parties. I want them to be gorgeous." He pauses. "Like you."
"I thought we were just friends."
James smirks.
"I never said just."
"You kissed me last night." She brings a finger up and points at the corner of her mouth. "Right here."
All of the wine is starting to catch up with her. He can't seem to stop smiling.
"I did... did you not like it?"
She gulps, her heart in her throat and her body vibrating from the tension lingering between them. Wanda was right, you could cut it with a knife. She's felt it from the second he walked into the shop.
"I did."
"What's the best kiss you've ever had, Dahlia?"
She loves the way her name rolls off of his tongue. A jolt of electricity shoots through her body and her brain feels like it might short circuit.
"Uh... my 21st birthday at the Disneyland hotel. He kissed me on the balcony while we watched the fireworks."
"What was his name?"
"Dylan."
He lets out a soft exhale and smirks.
"So I have to beat Dylan, huh?"
"Wh–"
James grabs her face in his hands and presses his lips to hers. Dahlia's brain does short circuit. She can almost hear it fizzling as every single thought pours out through her ears leaving her with no thoughts other than she wants more of this. His lips are so soft, and the kiss is surprisingly gentle. Her mouth opens and he slides his tongue against hers, a hand sliding around the back of her neck and squeezing just a little. Dahlia moans as he runs his thumb along her cheekbone and tilts his head, biting down on her bottom lip and tugging on it. He growls and she lets out a desperate whine as he begins to suck gently, releasing it with a pop before pulling away, leaving Dahlia with her mouth hanging open and her eyes still closed.
"Sorry there were no fireworks," James whispers. He closes her mouth for her by pushing her jaw shut gently.
Her eyes flutter open and her head feels fuzzy. James is breathing heavily, his mouth pink from her lipstick. She goes to reach for him and his phone rings.
"Fuck," he whispers, hanging his head. "I have to get that. I'm sorry."
She can barely form words, so her mouth fumbles to make sounds. Dahlia can still feel his hand on the back of her neck.
"It's– that's– uh-huh."
"Stay here," James orders, snatching his phone up and taking it into the other room. "What?" His voice is sharp and angry. "I don't give a shit. I told you twelve percent..." the conversation fades out and Dahlia grabs her phone to text Wanda.
I messed up.
[wands 🍃]: you puked, didn't you?
I kissed him.
[wands 🍃]: YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!
He's giving us 25k.
[wands 🍃]: wait hold up.
James steps back into the kitchen. His jaw is clenched and red. He looks annoyed, but when he sees her, he smiles. Dahlia's phone goes off a million times. She stuffs it back into her bag as he strides toward the kitchen island. She expects him to come back to kiss her again, but instead, he climbs on to the bar stool and cuts into his salmon.
"I want to take you somewhere after dinner."
"Where?"
"You ask a lot of questions." He sounds annoyed, but when his eyes meet hers, they twinkle with delight. She smiles warmly.
"I'm curious."
James grins.
"Yes you are. I have a garden outside. I don't know much about flowers, but I figured you would like it. It's a beautiful night, I thought we could sit outside and drink wine."
She blushes.
"That sounds great."
"Good."
Dahlia grabs her wine glass and holds it up.
"A toast?"
James smirks.
"To?"
"The best kiss I've had since Disneyland."
He laughs as they clink glasses.
Who needs professionalism anyway?
_____
A/N: I watched From Dusk Till Dawn while I was writing this, so there are some lines very much inspired by that movie. Also, for some of the folks who haven't seen it/don't know what it is, The Wild Bunch was a 1969 Western that was super controversial because it portrayed graphic gun violence.
When James is doing his violent mafia thing, I imagine him kind of like Gary Oldman's character in The Professional mixed with Andrew Scott's Moriarty. I like the idea of a man being so unhinged that his personality flips from playful to menacing in the blink of an eye. It's pretty scary.