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Trey shook his head. “They won’t take it. Too risky, and they’ve got too much to lose.”
“How ’bout we let them make that choice, or are you their new fucking mouthpiece?”
Trey scoffed, shaking his head and turning toward the bar. Dahlia was pouring the liquor into a glass, her hair falling over her shoulder, curtaining half her face. It was still an amazing view. When she glanced up and caught him staring, she immediately blushed, and the corner of her mouth hiked. It was the wrong move if he had hopes of keeping his composure and concentration intact. He jerked his gaze back to Rogue, thankful his counterpart hadn’t caught his brief slip in composure.
“Oz offered them a deal that took them out of state lines. They refused. If they didn’t take a deal with Oz, they won’t make it with you.”
Rogue slammed his fist down on the table. Trey knew Rogue well. His frustration stemmed from knowing the obvious truth. Working with Killcreek was their only option. However, Trey’s comment regarding East not working with him if they wouldn’t with Oz had also struck a nerve. While Rogue never mentioned it, Trey knew being second to Oz was always a sensitive topic, especially when it was thrown in his face.
At the worst possible time, Dahlia started walking toward the table. She must have sensed the tension and halted a few feet away. It left her as a source of contention for Rogue and his perfect victim.
“You expect me to get up and get the fucking drink, or can you bring it to me?”
Fucking asshole.
Dahlia rushed over, placing the glass in front of Rogue. The tension must have been evident to her because she seemed hellbent on rushing away. Unfortunately for her, Dahlia wasn’t quick enough. Rogue grabbed her wrist, forcing her closer to the table. Trey straightened in his seat and his nostrils flared, but he battened down every emotion. This was what Rogue wanted, what he craved. Rogue was waiting for Trey to break and unleash on him. Rogue only had to wait a few seconds.
“Remind me again how much we fucking pay you to be incompetent?” Rogue asked, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened around her wrist. When Trey heard her soft whimper, he was done! He pushed against the table, rocking Rogue’s drink.
“Let her go.”
Both Dahlia and Rogue turned to him, but Trey kept his eyes locked on Rogue. It was less than two seconds before Trey leaned across the table.
“Let her fucking go. Now!” Trey growled.
Trey would only give him a few more seconds to back down.
Rogue slowly released Dahlia, who skittered away. Trey didn’t even bother looking at her. He kept his eyes locked on Rogue. Trey had given away too much by that act of possession. It could have been dismissed in front of anyone else. But not Rogue. He knew Trey too well. The smile on Rogue’s face proved that. His brother would see past the armor and the stoic stance. Rogue would see it.
Trey stood and straightened his jacket.
“Make the fucking decision so I can make the call because now you’re fucking with my money.”
Rogue grabbed his drink and smirked. This had nothing to do with finances or even the deal at this point, and Rogue knew it.
Trey walked across the balcony, not acknowledging anyone, including Dahlia. But he could feel her eyes on him.
Fuck!
This wasn’t Trey. He didn’t lose his composure. Not with anyone, even Rogue. He dragged his hand through his hair as he stalked down the hall to his office. He had to focus on the deal, keeping their business above everything else. That’s where his head had to be. The Underground.
Years and years of playing referee between the brothers should have made Trey an expert on convincing either one of them of anything. Some deals were harder than others, and this was proving to be one of those times. He rounded his desk and sat, eyeing his phone. Oz was expecting a call, and Trey was stalling, knowing his answer wouldn’t be received well.
The soft knock at the door had him turning in his seat, not expecting the woman in the doorway. Dahlia stood uncertain with a glass in her hand.
“Rogue said to bring you a tequila.”
A peace offering. It went back years. It was universal through all three of them. He couldn’t remember who started it, but he remembered his first taste and the following day when he thought he’d die. He’d sworn off tequila, but every once in a while, when fences needed to be mended, he indulged for the sake of their brotherhood.
He dragged his hand over his face and cupped his mouth. Dahlia remained standing, waiting for him. He waved her over to his desk. She’d drop it off and be gone within seconds. Or so he thought. Instead of walking across from his desk, she rounded it, coming next to his chair. She leaned forward only a few feet away and placed it in front of him. Her being so close was too much temptation. It was as if she had an invisible magnetic pull. Trey drew in a breath, forcing his control to solidify.
It lasted only two seconds. When she straightened and made a move to turn away, he shot out his hand, tucked his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and pulled her toward him. The move clearly caught her off guard, and she fell forward, bracing her hands on his shoulders. With his free hand, he grasped the back of her thigh, forcing her to straddle his lap. Force was unnecessary. Dahlia came willingly, scooting closer on his lap until her breasts brushed against his chest and her mouth was an inch from his lips.
So fucking close. But apparently not close enough for her. Or me.
Trey slid his hand up her back, over her neck, and fisted her hair, forcing her head back. Her soft intake of breath under his control had him growing harder by the second. He slipped his hand around to her stomach, caressing over her bare skin and up to her breast. Her skin was hot, and she ground her hips against him. If he wanted, he could take her.
Trey skimmed his lips over the tops of her breasts and felt the pounding of her heart. It matched his, but he was in more control than she was. When she tried to pull from his firm grip, Trey tightened his fist. This is where I want you. He licked the column of her throat, grazing his teeth over her skin. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she swiveled her hips, trying to find relief, he assumed.
