“Yeah, yeah. Because it’sher. I get it. I’m just saying I think you’d feel better. Find someone who looks like her and fuck them. We’re going to Chicago soon, aren’t we? The Behr brothers own a brothel that is supposed to be one of the best in the world.”
“I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to work.” I point to the stack of folders in front of me. “Now do your fucking job.”
He grumbles but does as I say. I work, too, but I can’t keep my mind off what he said. It’s fucked up that I want my wife’s best friend. I still remember the day I first saw her. I’d been dating Jasmine for a few months, and she kept going on about her best friend that she wanted me to meet, since they were a package deal. I finally gave in, though I didn’t give a shit about meeting her friends. I was already close to ending things. Why add a friend into the mix to make things messier?
We agreed to meet at the botanical gardens at one. I arrived on time, knowing Jasmine would likely be late. As I walked around, I saw a stunning blonde with curves that my hands itched to hold, who was entranced by the orchid display. Her blue eyes were full of tears as she gazed at the flowers. Her passion called to me. What would it be like to feel like that about anything? So, I made my way to her side. She sniffled, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry. My mom loved orchids. I haven’t seen blooms like this since she died.”
Her sweet voice almost brought me to my knees, and then I took in her appearance. She wore faded jeans and a t-shirt, as if she was trying to hide her curves. It was a fucking shame. If she were mine, I’d show off every inch of her beautiful body. I’d dress her in the finest clothes, and I’d make sure she had all the fucking flowers she wanted. But then her gaze went past me, and her entire face lit up. I knew I was going to kill whoever made her smile like that. Imagine my surprise when I turned and found my girlfriend strolling toward us.
“Oh good. You two met!”
The blonde’s eyes grew big as Jasmine wrapped her arms around my waist in an annoyingly clingy gesture.
“You’re Jasmine’s boyfriend?”
I held out my hand. “Malik Jafar. Nice to meet you.”
Ellie’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh, nice to meet you, too.”
Jasmine didn’t notice how uncomfortable Ellie was and said, “We should go. I made reservations at a place I’ve been dying to try. They usually have a waitlist, but once I threw out Jafar’s name, they found us a spot.”
She had been doing that a lot in the short time we’d been dating. At first, I liked that she knew what she wanted and took it. But the longer it went on, the more I saw it for what it was. A way for her to use me.
Ellie said, “I really can’t.”
“If this is about money, don’t even worry about it. I’ve got you, like I always do.”
Jasmine beamed at her friend, who looked like she wanted to run off and cry. That was the moment I knew she wasn’t like Jasmine. If I’d been fucking thinking, I would have dumped Jasmine right then and there and asked her sweet friend out. But hindsight is twenty-twenty or some shit like that. To make matters worse, I’ve gone out of my way to make Ellie uncomfortable around me. Since I can’t have her love, I want her hate.
I sigh. Having her here for an entire month is going to be hell. Fuck. Maybe Razoul is right. Maybe I’ll reach out to the Behr brothers when we visit Chicago next week. See if they have any blonde hair, blue-eyed angels with curves for days who can take my mind off things for a few hours. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve fucked someone with the same intent, nor the last.
I stay at the office until the sun has long gone down. Razoul works by my side, making sure everything is in place for my meeting with Luca Di Bello. Luca’s family, the Behr brothers, and Hook and Company run the crime scene in Chicago. The same blueprint our city has been based on. I’m interested to see how they make it work and what they wish was different. The other Families of NYC were supposed to attend with me but have bowed out for various reasons. Lazy fuckers, all of them.
Razoul stretches. “I’m going to head home. Are you leaving soon?”
“Yeah.”
Razoul leaves, and I lean back in my chair, thinking about my dear wife. Have I ever been happy with Jasmine? That’s a loaded question. Jasmine has this way of being the center of attention wherever she goes, which is how she caught my eye in the first place. It gets tiring after a while, but she never notices. No, she goes on, demanding more attention from others as if she’s trying to fill a hole deep inside.
I’ve tried talking to her about it. Hell, we even went to couple’s therapy. Everything that was suggested went in one ear and out the other with Jasmine until I found myself not giving a fuck. My wife doesn’t even realize how close she is to being removed from my life and handed off to one of my men. The only reason I haven’t is because I dread listening to her bitch and moan. Besides, if I break Jasmine’s heart, I’m pretty sure Ellie won’t have anything to do with me. There’s also the issue of divorce and how it’s frowned upon in the Mafia. Yeah, I’m totally fucked.
Grabbing my shit, I make my way to the garage where my driver waits.
“Where to, Mr. Jafar?”
“Which house is my wife at?”
“The penthouse on Fifth.”
She’s shown up to my primary residence a few times, trying to seduce me, so I’ve made it a point to find out where she is before I leave the office. It saves a lot of time. And vases since Jasmine seems to love throwing those most of all.
“Take me to the penthouse on Madison.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jasmine hates the house on Madison, so it’s become my own personal sanctuary. Hell, most of my clothes are there now. My mother is probably rolling in her grave knowing my wife and I are living in separate homes, but it works for us. The house on Madison is a new build and cost me nearly one-hundred million dollars. Well spent money if you ask me.