“I already wired the money to your account,” I inform her. Pulling up her panties, she nods, still trying to catch her breath, her milky skin now a blush of red. “You can use the restroom if you need.” Lifting my hand, I gesture to the dark hall to her left that holds my bathroom.
“I’m fine,” she insists, pulling her coat over her body, concealing it from me as if nothing just happened.
Grabbing my tumbler from the wet bar, my pants still undone, I refill it and head back to my chair, the tension in my shoulders now gone.
“See you around, Romeo,” she says softly, her breathing at a normal pace now.
Lifting a finger, I point at her in goodbye, and she shuts the door behind her. I take a long swig of my whiskey, the thought of having a female in my house making me wish I was normal. If I was, I would call Denise, we could do dinner, and I could spoil her with my blood money.
But I wouldn’t wish my mood swings on my worst enemy, let alone someone I care for. It wouldn’t be fair to ask them to put up with my severe anger, the things I say and do when I’ve become manic.
No, it’s better this way. They come, I come, they go, and I move on with my evening.
Sighing, focusing on the whiskey, I know deep down I want to be selfish and be with someone, especially after seeing my brother with a woman and how in love he is, the care he has for her, and how he spoils her.
Thinking about Leona makes my dick grow.
She always smells good, like she just came from a secret garden of forbidden flowers, looks gorgeous, and she’s all his. Reaching in my other pocket, I pull out a pair of panties. Leona’s panties, I stole them from their house. I don’t know why I did it, I could ask Denise for hers and she’d gladly give them over. I guess it’s about having something of my brother’s that makes my dick hard. In a secret way, I wish we could share his wife to be, I could fuck her and enjoy the things of a relationship like spoiling her with shopping sprees, having her lay next to me in bed just so I can smell her shampoo, and get those fuzzy fucking feelings when I see her toothbrush next to mine. Kieran could deal with the tantrums and other shit that comes along with having a relationship that I have zero compliance for.
It’ll never happen though. Feeling the tension settling in my shoulders again, I crack my neck. The feeling calming me and bringing me back to realization. I’m meant to be alone.
My phone buzzes on the glass coffee table in the other room, the screen lighting up as it skids across the top. Getting up, I go into the sitting room and grab it, it’s my father.
Taking a deep breath, I pick it up.
“Hello?”
“Romeo, it’s time we talk.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I look forward, the door to my bedroom in my line of sight. I knew this was coming, I knew the devil would summon me.
2
Romeo
“About what?” I sigh into the phone. Agitation making my hands ball into fists. This man’s voice alone makes me want to smash this fucking phone. Sometimes I think I’m solely on medication so I don’t kill him.
“You know what, stop with the games.” He raises his voice, and my nostrils flare. Doesn’t matter my age or position, he always talks down to me. Verbal and mental abuse takes a toll, but if you tell him that, he calls you a pussy. He doesn’t have a link of kindness in his DNA.
“I’m not the person for this…” I grit quietly into the phone. I can’t be like him, I refuse to.
“No shit, but again, let’s talk. Meet me at the Shady Tail in one hour.” The phone goes quiet as he’s hung up on his end.
I love my brother, but hate him for leaving me to deal with this shit. We had a good thing going. He was the underboss and I was… well, whatever he needed. We worked good together. He knew me, is why, and I trusted him. I can’t help but wonder if I should betray our father and follow Kieran over to the other side, against our father and everyone we ever knew.
Something uneasy settles in my stomach thinking about that kind of betrayal. I don’t have it in me to do that, at least not yet. The night is still young.
Who knows where my head will be at after this so-called meeting with our father.
I chose to take a cab after the few drinks I had, so I pay my fee and get out. He drives off and I button the coat and look the strip club over. The lights of the club are bright with a LED tail blinking as if it’s waving back and forth, the name of the place lit up in blue letters underneath it.
Exhaling sharply, I head under the blue canopy where the doors are opened for me, I’m instantly greeted with the pounding bass of pop music, and a confusing smell of perfume and men’s cologne.
“Mr. DeAngelo.” A man nods his head at me, but I don’t recognize him. Father must have brought in new people
