Page 12 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)

CHAPTER EIGHT

RUBY

“Fuck It” is an official destination, and I’m walking straight into it with my head held high.

I’ve been caught spying, red-handed, so I proudly march toward Axel’s office. If I’m about to be fired or have charges filed against me or god knows what else a mafia king masquerading as a powerful lawyer can do to me, I’ll at least keep my pride.

“Please,” Axel gestures calmly toward his sofa, “have a seat.”

“I’m fine standing.”

“Sit!” he barks.

Arrogant dickhead. Like he owns me? Like he can train me? Like I’ll follow his command, so…

“Woof!” I bark back, letting my heels drop to the floor.

“Don’t bark if you won’t bite, Ms. Jones.” He glowers with lust swimming in his eyes. “Fight me, and I will put a collar on your neck.”

The zip of lust to my clit is sudden.

Me, wearing a collar for Axel?

Holy hounds of hell, I didn’t know I had this kink, but I do, hiding it with a roll of my eyes. “In your dreams.”

I turn around, hiding my blushing cheeks.

The thought of kneeling for Axel, of obeying his orders, rearranges my entire being, and that can’t happen.

So, instead of sitting like a lady, all prim and proper, and about to be punished for breaking his rules, I recline like the Queen of Sheba, sideways and lazily draping my arm over his sofa … because I don’t give a damn about his rules.

But I do suddenly give a damn about Axel, and it’s making me mad. All he made me feel watching him still thrums through my veins.

Casually, he sits across from me, leaning back and lifting his chin. Spreading his hulking legs, he slowly drums his tatted fingers over the arm of his chair as his icy eyes narrow. He licks his bottom lip, and … okay, he needs to stop inducing orgasms when he seethes.

“Where do I start with you?” He coldly scolds, “You’re like a wildfire burning out of control.”

“Easy: you don’t start and can’t control me.” I shrug. “This is the end. I quit.”

“You can’t quit.”

“Okay, Ted Lasso, I don’t need a pep talk.”

“I won’t let you quit.” He smirks. “I have too much power over you now.”

Breathe. Breathe. Do NOT freak out.

“What do you mean by ‘power over me’?”

“Trespassing. Illegal use of electronic surveillance. Invasion of privacy. The unlawful practice of the law. But I must add my favorite: the intentional infliction of emotional distress.” He says drily, “You finally saw my dick. Congratulations.”

I nod, desperate to hide my hammering heart. “I’ll give you that last one. It was distressing. ”

He cocks a brow. “That’s not all it was, Ms. Jones.”

No, it was big, hard, and pierced, and I will NEVER be the same. You wear dick jewelry for the woman you love. Lucky bitch.

“Okay, fine,” I huff. “I was spying. So, how do we unfuck this?”

“Unfuck this?” He stifles a chuckle. “Oh, Ms. Jones. I haven’t even started fucking with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His pause is too heavy and long. Like his dick.

Oh my god!

Stop thinking about it!

“What did you see tonight?” he finally asks, and there are a dozen replies I could give. They’re all salacious, and he knows it. Anything I say would expose me as much as he’s been exposed, and it feels too intimate. Too vulnerable. I could get so hurt if I tell the truth.

I saw how beautiful you are, and you made me feel something for you.

I shrug. “Meh. I saw a little something.”

“Little?” He raises his brows. “Lie to yourself but not to me. Now you know about me and my brothers. You know about our queens, too. You’ve been listening to my conversations for how long?”

I pick at non-existent lint on the sofa. “Only nine months.”

“Nine? Fucking? Months?” he snarls through clenched teeth, veins popping everywhere. I’m hiding the coronary I’m having as he slowly shakes his head in furious disbelief. “Now you’re a liability, Ms. Jones. You know too much, and I can’t afford the risk.”

“So what? You’re going to make me an offer I can’t refuse?”

Glaring silence.

“Or I’ll wear cement shoes and swim with the fishes? ”

Deadly silence. His eyes burn with a glacial stare. His sexy face is stone, and I can’t grab a full breath. Yes, I hate the man. Sort of. But deep down, parts of me trust him, which scares me even more.

Usually, I don’t trust men, and suddenly, with the lethal look in his eyes, this is why.

“Okay, Axel, you’re scaring me.”

He nods. “And … you know my name…”

Hey, Mouth. Shut up.

I know you think he’s hot and all. And he’s smart. And he can’t be entirely immoral; he does really heroic things like help survivors of trafficking. But right now?

Bitch, he’s deciding where to bury your body.

“But I don’t know your last name, so we’re good. We’re cool as cucumbers,” I ramble, “though that’s a really dumb saying because they grow in summer gardens and?—”

“King.”

“Axel King?” I snort. I can’t help it. “That’s your full name? Of course, it is. Even your ego wears a crown.” It dawns on me. “Oh shit, you just told me your full name, so now you have to kill me.”

“Have I killed people? Yes.” He’s way too calm. “Do you make me mad enough to kill you?” Pause for my murder. “Yes, more than any other human being from now and time immemorial. Every goddamn minute of my day, you make me mad enough to murder.”

My breath thins, my mind racing.

How does the Lord’s Prayer start?

I’ve joked with my sister that Axel is a “cold cuntkiller,” so did I manifest this? Does he legit have to kill me now?

“But I’ll never hurt you, Ruby. In fact, I’ll kill anyone who lays a hand on you.” For emphasis, he slowly rubs his hands together.

“Oh shit, you’re not kidding. ”

“No, I’m not because … you’re mine now.”

“I’m sorry.” I lean forward. “What did you just say?”

“You’re mine, Ruby Jones. Starting tonight, I own you.”

Laughter bursts from my throat. “Yeah, right. You need to start a podcast called ‘Axel Says Stupid Shit.’”

Silence.

“You? Owning me?” I shake my head, wiping away laughing tears. “I’d rather be jobless, penniless, and starving. Hell, I’d rather be dead before I let a man own me, Axel King.”

“You may be cavalier with your life, but what about your sisters?”

I stab my finger at him. “Touch a red hair on one of my sisters’ heads, and I will fuck your ass with a sword.”

His eyes shock open. Then he laughs. “Well, damn. Someone’s been watching Se7en .”

“Exactly. And what deadly sins can I use to kill your brothers?”

He swipes his hand. “While I appreciate your penchant for creative violence, and seriously do hope it is purely fictional, I will never hurt your sisters. But it was you who spied on me, remember? If you want them safe, I have to keep you safe now.”

“Safe from what? You?”

“No. Safe from the men who want to kill me and my brothers. And since you wanted to play Black Widow, looking hotter than Scarlett Johansson, I might add, you’re one of us now. Hence, you’re mine.”

Wait. Did he just compliment me?

Oh shit. Did he just claim me, too?

“Hence what? I’m in the mafia now?”

“We’re not the mafia. We’re much worse.” He sounds so relaxed about it. “The mafia wants us.”

“You’re wanted for what?” I quip, “Mafia fashion violations? They don’t like your bling? It doesn’t match your cliché black suit, white shirt, and evil ink? I keep meaning to tell you; very original. Visionary, actually.”

He fights a smile, and it’s really damn sexy, especially now that my murder isn’t on his immediate agenda.

“You’ll stay with me,” he commands. “You’ll prove I can trust you, and when I do, I’ll answer your questions.”

“Stay with you? Like, keep working for you?”

“That, and you’ll live with me.”

My silence. My shock. My heart, running like it’s on fire and screaming down the street.

“It’s the only way to keep you safe,” he continues.

“To keep you from being kidnapped and used as an asset against my family or yours. Apparently, you know too much about me, and they will torture it out of you.” He calmly shifts focus.

“You’ll have your own bedroom. It has an ensuite. You’ll have privacy and?—”

“No way.” I rebel. “I live with my sisters. We’ve always been together and kept each other safe. And the last person I trust to protect me is you.”

That’s not entirely true. Axel can protect me. He’s so alpha and intimidating that he could’ve convinced Jeffrey Dahmer to starve, but hey, hyperbole wins arguments.

“Ruby…”

He leans forward, his arms resting on his elbows. He’s taken his jacket off and rolled up his white sleeves. A golden tie hangs loose around his neck, and for the first time, I can see more of his dark ink and the cryptic story on his tan skin.

And for the first time, I realize…

Axel said my name.

He made it sound special. Like a gift on his tongue. Like he opened a ribboned box. Like he opened me .

“You’re a very smart woman,” he persuades.

“I don’t tell you enough how you impress me.

How I trust your instincts and intelligence.

You’re strong and brave, and I’ve enjoyed our hating game, but we’re not playing it anymore; this is fucking real.

So if you can’t trust me about this, then think for yourself.

Ask yourself if I’m not deadly serious about the risk you’re in now. ”

All the cryptic conversations I’ve overheard.

All the money he has. The security, too.

The gun he carries, holstered to his back.

The odd things I’ve noticed. Like for days, how he’ll disappear from the office, and we’ll have to scramble with his cases.

How he’ll return with bruised knuckles, like the ones on his knuckles now.

How he always wears black in a city of pastels. Black hides blood.

Axel may be heroic and use the law to help survivors, but he breaks the law and kills for vengeance. I’ve figured that much out. The man reeks of sexy, villainous power.

And I may be cavalier with my life. I meant it; I’d rather be dead than owned. But I’d never risk anything harming my sisters.

“Okay.” I nod. “Promise me you’ll keep my sisters out of this and safe, and I’ll stay with you.” I lean forward and mirror his stance. “But we have a problem.”

“Which is?”

“If we’re living together...”

His eyes gleam with triumph.

Yes, he’s caught me.

So, I smirk. “How are you going to chase me every morning?”

And I’ve caught him, too.