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Agreed. O’Bannon had come into Gilded a few times once it opened, and he’d been warned every time to keep his hands off the waitstaff. He was a pig and a shitty tipper to boot.
Grey glared at Mari from his seat at her side, but she smiled innocently. “The wedding planners will be here in an hour or so, and since problem-solving is your specialty, I need you to figure out how to make Ash’s dream wedding happen in no time flat. Talking to Sean is part of it.”
She was laying it on thick, and I tried not to laugh at how obvious it was that she didn’t want to be involved. Maybe opening night had scarred her. I’d heard it was a logistical nightmare.
For a second, Greyson looked like he’d refuse, but I should have known better. This was Mari’s shadow. What she wanted, he gave her.
I may have been new to the family, but even I knew that much.
He leaned in close, speaking low, though we could all hear him. “You’re an asshole, and you owe me for this.”
Mari smiled, all sex and seduction. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll let you fuck me later.”
“Deal,” Greyson growled, nipping her lips before getting up. “Better go tell the lovebirds before you go. If we don’t warn them, Cameron will go off script, and we both know he won’t be able to resist baiting his future father-in-law.”
We all grimaced. Cameron’s dislike of the Irishman had been heard far and wide inside the Marcosa walls. Aislynn’s, too, for that matter.
Mari stood, fluffing her hair absently as she looked at Dominic and me. “You two have thirty minutes to get changed and meet me by the front door. Dress like a badass. The theme for today is intimidation.”
When she was gone, we looked at each other. “I think we got the better end of the deal.”
Dominic snorted. “You say that now, but it’s time to show your guts, pretty boy.”
Normally, I wouldn’t play his game, but he’d been seething since Mari walked in, and he thought it was okay to take it out on me. I was the newest member of their little troupe, but I wasn’t the weakest. He couldn’t play me, and he’d learn that I had no problem stooping low if he came for the knees.
“Trust me, Mari knows exactly what I’m capable of. Can you say the same?” The words were heavy with innuendo, and Dominic’s face twisted in irritation.
“Fuck you, Nate.” Yeah, didn’t think so.
Nate, 1. Dominic, 0.
I could feel the heat of his glare as he stalked out of the room, but I didn’t care. I was dying to see Mari in her element again. She was hot as fuck when she was in her power. I needed to see it again, if only because I was wearing out the memory of the ambush we’d both been in. I had to get new material until I could have her the way I desperately wanted her.
Plus, I would get to prove myself to her. I could hang with the kingpin and be an asset. She just didn’t know it yet.
When Mari said we were going for intimidation, I didn’t think she meant kicking in the door to someone’s office. Yet, there I was, trailing her and Dominic through the door to the sound of surprised screams.
“What the fuck?” That came from the man struggling to cover his dick since his pants were around his knees.
From the scant details Mari had given me on the way over, that was our mark.
René Porter. Forty-three, chronically single, no kids. According to the intel, he was a low-level importer, longtime Marcosa customer. He sold weird shit—never the same thing twice—and was scared of his own shadow. Up until recently, he’d been a model client.
Mari wanted to know when and why that changed.
Avoiding the sight of dick so early in the morning, I peered around. His office was deceptively high-end for a low-level importer, but money couldn’t replace taste. Hand-tanned leather couches mixed with ’70s mod rugs and existentialist paintings that made me want to gouge out my eyeballs. Every square inch of the room was filled with something that was supposed to show his prestige, but instead made him look like a hoarder.
Dominic stepped forward, covering Mari while the guy covered himself, but she barely glanced at either of them. Her focus was solely on the woman cowering beneath the desk with messy hair and swollen lips.
“Aren’t you the assistant?” she asked.
The woman brushed her hair behind her ear, wiping her mouth. “Yes, I am.”
When she dropped her eyes almost immediately, Mari’s gaze narrowed and she turned to Porter. “Do you normally require your assistant to have such a hands-on role in your company?”
It was very obvious that little Porter was using his power to get his rocks off. If he wasn’t dead before we walked in, he was now.
“Of course not,” Porter said, glaring at the other woman. “Get out.”
