Page 57 of Bloody Union
He kisses my lips, “You’re going to be busy. Holly wants you to help organize the wedding.” He’s got a stupid grin on his face.
I groan, “Tell me about it. It was either me or have her bitch of a mother ruin it. At least with me, I’ll hire someone to do it and make sure everything’s running smoothly and Romero and Holly will get the wedding they want. Whereas, if Zoe had her way, she’d have the big wedding that she always wanted.”
His hand splays the base of my back as I rub circles on his chest. “What wedding did she have? She and Denis are married right?”
I nod, “Yeah, they’re married. It was a shotgun wedding. She was pregnant with Danny at the time and Denis was furious. From what I’ve heard, he thinks she got pregnant on purpose to trap him. So he married her in secret. She’s pissed about that.” I can’t help but smile, karma's a bitch and Zoe is destined to get hers soon.
Dante chuckles, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”
I grin, “Keep giving me amazing orgasms and you’re golden.”
He pulls me on top of him and I straddle his stomach. “Well, baby, you have no problems there. I’m unable to keep my hands off you and that’s never going to change.”
I move so that his cock is at the entrance to my pussy. “Good, because I’d hate to kill you.”
He thrusts into me and I groan. “You love my cock, babe.”
I laugh. “True, but I love you more,” I tell him sincerely as I move.
“And I love you.”
God, how did I get so lucky?
Eighteen
Dante
Entering Dynamite,the club that we own, I see that most of the men are already here. I sent Romero and Alessio ahead of me, I want them to have their ear to the ground, see if there’s any rumblings about a coup. The last thing I need is for my father to be on alert that something may happen. That bastard deserves what’s coming to him and the sooner he’s six feet under the fucking better.
As soon as my father sees me he motions me to come to him. The smug smirk on his face pisses me off, but I dutifully walk over to him and wait for whatever stupid fucking thing he has to say.
“Dante, it’s good to see you can pull yourself away from yourwife.” My jaw clenches at the way he spits wife out, but I ignore it and wait for him to finish whatever fucking tirade he’s on. “Those fucking Irish are making us look like fools. They’ve undercut us on all of our products. I won’t fucking stand for it.”
I sigh, this shit again? He’s known for a long time that the Gallagher’s have a better control on the drug trade than we do. He has never done anything about it before so why the hell is he pissing me off by bringing it up now? “What do you want me to do?”
Makenna and I have spoken at length about what’s going to happen when I take over. She won’t be undercutting us like she does, the price of the drugs will go up and we’ll all benefit from it. As soon as my father’s out of the picture, things for the Famiglia can only go up with my marriage with Makenna.
“You’re fucking married to one of them. Do whatever the hell you have to. Find out whatever the fuck you can about the business.”
I scoff, “Oh and how am I supposed to do that? Hmm, it’s not as though Makenna is in the know.”
Oh how untrue that actually is; if my father found out who was truly running the show he’d have a fucking conniption. My father’s old school. Women are supposed to serve men, do whatever the hell we want them to. And in my father’s case, beat the shit out of them any time he wants in order to keep them in line.
He steps closer to me, getting in my face. “I don’t give a fucking shit. I want to know what the hell those fuckers have. I want what those fuckers have.”
He’s an arsehole, I can’t believe this shit. “Whatever,” I reply, knowing damn well that I won’t be telling him fucking shit. “Have you got Kurt on this too?” I hide my smile when his eyes flash with anger and his back straightens.
“Kurt’s currently lying low.” Oh I fucking bet he is. “He’s in trouble with the law again. Fucker can’t keep out of trouble.” He shakes his head in disappointment, and I know what he really means, Kurt’s lying low so that he won’t rat my father out about the shootings at my wedding. “Where are those useless, no-good brothers of yours?” he asks, glancing around the room, as if seeing if he can locate them.
“They’re here, they have been for a while,” I answer. I saw them as soon as I walked in the room. It’s another reason why my father is fucking shit at being the Boss, he’s too wrapped up in his own business to be on the look-out for danger.
He glances around the room once again and I see the exact moment when he sees them. “Fucking Romero,” he mutters and I turn to see my brother with a glass of whiskey in his hand. “Can’t that motherfucker do as he’s told once in his fucking life?”
“He’s having a drink,” I say as I scan the room. Everyone’s here now and they’re milling about as they wait for my father to get his shit together and speak to them.
“He’s useless, he’ll never amount to anything,” he says through clenched teeth. “He’s always been useless. He’s no good for the Famiglia, and he’s only here because he’s myson.” He spits out the word son as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.
How the hell did we not kill this motherfucker before now?