Our greeter shoves a hand into Con’s. “Aster. Aster Constantine. Harlon won’t like me sharing that last bit so we keep that on the down low, okay?” Her leather pants, white shirt, and motorcycle boots have me missing mine. Since ditching the ‘old me’ from our New Orleans days I haven’t needed to hide my feminine side.
All three men continue to stare at Aster unmoving, but it doesn’t seem to faze her. “Yeah, okay then. Tough crowd. Let’s get you corpses to the dark floor so you can get your freak on with Harlon. He and his partners won’t be long.”
I tuck my head down and hide my smile behind a wall of hair. I like her. Not many people stand up to these three and walk away smiling.
A few seconds later we are settled inside a room with a large wooden desk, four chairs, and not much else. Even the overhead light is pretty bland. I mean, sure the marble floor is nice and the subtle piano music is a little calming but the walls are way too close for comfort.
“You okay?”
Bastian is in front of me and I don’t realize I’m breathing hard until I see he’s not.
No. I have a butt plug in my ass and I can’t seem to cool down. I don’t know if I want to find a bathroom to remove it, a bed for all four of us, or an ice pack.
“Yeah, it’s just a little cramped in here. Maybe I should step out. Give you guys the room so you can do the whole freak thing Aster was talking about.”
Con chuckles and lowers his substantial weight into a leather chair on this side of the mahogany desk. He pulls me into his lap and… “Oh, my God!” The pressure on my ass is beyond anything—and I mean anything—I’ve ever felt before.
While I am fighting hard not to move my hips and give the butt plug something to work against, Con continues talking as if I am not ready to strip him bare this very second.
“She’s way too mouthy for her own good. We’re just signing contracts tonight. No bodies to stash or slam.”
The door opens and a tall dark-haired man walks in with two more behind him. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to a little excitement tonight.”
I quietly slide out of Con’s lap.
I recognize their handsome faces from the news. Their reputations are as dark as my men’s. Harlon is the head of the Northern Alliance and rules most of Chicago with their territory growing every day. Santi is the dark Latino and Cassius is more of a mystery. To me anyway. He hardly makes the news which tells me he’s the one to watch out for most. In the few times I watched my mother’s world work, it was the quiet ones with the deadliest touch. Take my stepfather for instance. Though I’m alive on the outside, I can’t help but feel that man killed parts of me he had no right to touch.
Not that Cassius is anything like him. Darkness comes in many shades.
I tug at the collar of my dress and wish I’d gone with motorcycle boots and leather pants instead. The walls seem to grow closer with six men packed into one small-ish room. I’ve never felt so out of place in my life. I edge toward the door, but Bastian’s two hundred pounds of muscle blocks my path.
Shit.
“I’m Bastian. That’s Dante and Con.” Bastian juts his chin out toward his brothers.
Introductions pass around and everyone shakes hands.
“I’m Harlon Constantine. Santi and Cassius. Talking to them is like talking to me. While you are in our territory you can count on their support and mine. Just don’t fuck us over and you will be welcome to stay in our city for as long as you require.”
Con nods. “If you’re ever in our neck of the woods out west, count on the same support.”
“And the same would apply. Don’t fuck us and we won’t fuck you.” Dante loves pushing people’s buttons, but these three don’t look ruffled.
“Naturalmente caballeros.” The one named Santi with the Spanish accent eases his weight onto the edge of the desk and crosses his thick arms. He’s left off the suit jacket, but the red silk tie is spot on.
Oh, good. Now that the dick measuring is out of the way maybe we can get a move on so I can find a private place to remove this plug.
“This is Laila, our partner.” Hearing my name draws my attention off Santi’s red tie to a set of dark eyes and an even smile. It looks practiced but not fake.
Years of proper training under the care of my mother in similar circles has me raising my hand to shake theirs. But my mind is hooked on the word ‘partner’ coming out of Dante’s mouth. Partner? This is the first I’ve heard of it, but okay.
“Welcome to the dark floor. I trust you found your way here easily.”
“Aster made us feel very welcome.”
It’s slight, but the inner corners of Harlon’s eyebrows twitch inward as if to signal friction with the spirited hostess.
Interesting.