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“Like what?” The innocence in her tone wouldn’t fool anyone. Not while she’s probably naked behind me.
Lifting a hand to my eyes, I scrub it to my mouth, count down from ten, listen to Bugsy chirping his happy birdsong in the corner. Everything is fine. At least she’s not trying to kill me like other mafia leaders might.
Right. This emotional abuse is preferred. Emotional abuse is something I’ve taught myself to deal with.
“You’re too uptight,” she calls.
“I am not currently accepting reviews or complaints. The Veleno Family sincerely apologizes for the inconvenience. HR will be in touch as soon as anyone cares about your opinion.”
Her laughter washes over me, and I fight back the chill it causes as I fold my arms. She says, “You have to know the way things are right now isn’t sustainable, pet. If your subordinates aren’t listening, make them.”
“Real wise words coming from a fairy-tale princess.”
Fingers trace across my back before I even hear her approach. Out of reflex, I face her, grip her hand, and feel her fragile bones grind.
She wets her lips, something feral in the action. “Come now, pet. That’s no way to hold a lover’s hand.”
“Not your pet, princess. You’re only here because I pity you.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Don’t think you can get away with whatever you want.”
She hums, still smiling.
“I mean it.”
“I know.” Lifting her free hand, she grazes my cheek. “Broken, broken boys turn into broken, broken men. Remember yesterday? When I said we could do this the easy way or the hard way?”
My brow furrows.
Her smile stretches, pricking all my nerves. “Do you know which option you chose?”
My grip falters, and she slips from my grasp. Combing her fingers through her hair, she heads to Bugsy’s cage, and starts calling him Oreo.
Chapter 6
~~~~~~~~~~~~
But she was fragile like a bomb.
Briar
“So,” Chip taunts, waiting for me beyond the front door, “Rowan kicked you out?”
My eyes roll as I enter the central manor of The Giungla. Some hundred odd acres of thick trees and tucked-away houses surrounded by high, high walls serve as home to the most underground of all the undergrounds—the Rosanera Family. My family. With lush carpets, dozens of potted plants, and warm, earthy wood tones, it’s as cozy as home gets.
For a bunch of criminals.
“Where’s your owner?” I stride toward where he’s sitting on the stairs that lead up to my room, and he falls into step at my heels, locking his hands behind his head in the mass of his curly brown hair.
“She’s still asleep.”
Of course she is.
Smiling fondly, I make it to my room and head into my closet. “How masculine are you feeling this morning?” I ask.
“Very.”
