Page 4 of Axel (Belles & Bratva Beasts #2)

CHAPTER TWO

RUBY

“Hey, Bruce!” I wave to the hot bellhop. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bruce tips his hat, “it sure is.”

I know, as I race up the steps into my brother-in-law’s hotel, Bruce is eye-humping my ass.

Good.

Let Axel watch him do it.

Yes, I know he stalks me. Yes, I know Axel is his real name, not “Michael Cummings, Esquire,” as most know him. Yes, I know he’s into some shady shit. And yes, he’s my boss, and I hate him with a white-hot intensity.

Lording his law degree over me like he’s God. Lecturing me on boring statutes. Finding every mistake in my work and then just making shit up when there aren’t any.

Oh, and he’s a rich, smug, arrogant asshole, too.

And all the while, he’s stalking me? He’s breaking the law?

He makes me nuclear. I’m one hairline crack in my concrete from blowing and wiping out this entire city.

Axel must think he’s so clever. He must get off on it. I bet he listens to Duran Duran’s “Hungry Like The Wolf” while he chases me.

I wear earbuds, so he’ll think I’m oblivious, but I’m not. I’m listening to his footfalls crunching behind me.

I know he’ll be there every morning, waiting behind that oak tree in the park, and then he’ll follow me here. Hell, he even follows me home some nights, too.

This shit began a month after I started working for him, and that was a year ago.

Yes … a year .

I was on my run and stopped to tie my sneakers; then, I got that tingling feeling.

Maybe only women can sense it, I’m not sure, but it’s when you know you’re being followed.

So, I snuck a glance over my shoulder and caught Axel lurking in a dark alley, barely peeking around the corner of a brick building.

At first, I thought it was funny. Then, I was flattered.

And a little aroused.

Alright, alright … a lot aroused.

I can’t help it. The man is a tower of hard, hot, inked, and fuckable flesh.

But after all these months, what’s his game? He’s never come on to me. He keeps his distance. And with the dickish ways he tortures me at work, too? It’s getting old. Real old. I’m so tempted to whip around one day and bust him, but it’s my only advantage.

It’s the ultimate power play—when the stalked stalks back.

I’ve been spying on my dickhead boss for nine months, and I’ve learned quite a lot.

My favorite nugget?

Axel is some kind of mafia king.

Yes, he’s a lawyer: one of the best, I hate to admit. But as much as he practices the law, he breaks it, and I’m just waiting to prove it so I can shove it in his sexy, smug face, all while I push his buttons, too. Like a panel of circular lights in an elevator with fifty floors, I punch every one.

But my brother-in-law’s hotel has only eight floors, and I punch the button for the second.

With a ding , the gold doors slide open. In a furious haze, habit takes me into the high-end hotel gym, where I turn into the women’s locker room. Here, I keep one locked and full of my products, with fresh dresses and heels for work.

I can’t afford a fancy gym membership, but I won’t take a red cent from my sister, Scarlett, or her billionaire husband, Luca. I’m broke on bills and pride. But Luca insisted that I at least make myself at home in his hotel, and it is convenient.

The Mercier Hotel is four blocks from Axel’s law office on Meeting Street. So I get free parking, a free shower after my run, and sometimes, a hug from my big sister when I need it most.

Speaking of…

“Oh, god, Luca.” I recognize Scarlett’s raspy voice. “Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

“Yes, my whore. Take it.”

I roll my eyes, recognizing my brother-in-law’s distinct Greek accent, too.

“Oh. My. God!” I call out to the row of pristine showers. Lucky for these horn dogs, we’re the only ones in here. “Y’all can literally get a room. You own them all.”

I hear a giggle, then a man’s voice, not Luca’s, reply, “Yes, but darlin’, where’s the fun in that?”

Zar is the first to emerge from their shower for three as he wraps a white towel around his waist, winking. “Mornin’, hotness.”

“Morning, you fluid flirt.”

I adore Zar. He adores my sister and subs for my brother-in-law.

He’s also in love with Nick Barinov, the hottest NFL player I’ve ever seen, and Zar hosts the best parties at his “beach shack.” I’m one of the few women he invites to join them, but not in that way.

I support my sister’s poly love and life, but we don’t cross that line.

But I do love blurring lines with the other closeted, bisexual football players at Zar’s place. I feel honored, protecting their secret. They’re safe with me.

“Hey.” Scarlett emerges, naked as a jaybird, before Luca steps out, too. She immediately reads my simmering rage. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.” Luca is naked, hung, and still hard. “You Jones sisters are horrible at it.”

I cover my eyes. “Can you put that thing away?”

Luca laughs. “Nudity is natural.”

“So is toe fungus, but I don’t want to see that shit either.”

“Dayum, something’s got her worked up.” I hear Zar’s drawl, thinking Matthew McConaughey is in the room whenever he talks. “And it ain’t our dicks or her mornin’ run.”

“I’m fine, y’all,” I huff, shielding my sight. “I just need to shower and get to work.”

“On a Saturday ?” Scarlett asks, disbelieving.

“Yes,” I snap. “We’re busy.”

“So it’s work?” Concern laces her voice. “Is that what’s wrong because Zar’s right, you look one minute from murder?”

I drop my hand and thankfully find all wrapped in towels while I let my sister read my eyes. She’s right. I’m furious about Axel, but I don’t want to talk about it. She can read that, too.

I’m close to my sisters, all three of them.

We’ve been through hell and back with our father, then our step-father, and for the longest time, it was us and our mom against the world.

We put our walls up and protected each other, particularly Scarlett.

She’s the fighter. Literally, she has MMA titles.

But love changed my sister, and I’m happy for her. Scarlett deserves Luca. He worships her because she fought for him, and he tore down the walls guarding her heart, too.

But not me. I still don’t trust love. I don’t trust that there’s a man like Luca out there for me, too, so I stay safe. I fuck, then leave; it’s what I do. And I certainly never love.

No one can make me stay. No one can make me trust.

The perfect Exhibit A, your honor? Men like my boss, Axel.

He’s so typical; men just want the chase. Because once they catch you and have their fun, they leave, so I leave even faster.

“I’m fine, y’all,” I echo myself. “Just going to be late for work, and my yeast infection for a boss will make me itch all day about it.”

“Oh,” Zar chuckles, “so it’s love . That’s the burr under your saddle.”

I arch a brow. “Careful, cowboy, or you’ll choke on the shit you’re talking. I don’t do love .”

I swear the biggest smiles lift their faces—Scarlett, Luca, then Zar—but Luca warns, “You can’t run from love, little sister. Trust me; I tried, but thankfully, she caught me.” He reaches for Scarlett and gives her the most disgustingly passionate kiss.

“Yeah, well, please try and let me shower.” I tug at my sweaty sports bra.

That’s their cue. Zar and Luca leave with waves while Scarlett worries, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Righter than rain.”

“Whatever you say.” She yanks me into a hug and knows I’m full of shit, but I love her for not giving me any. “Are you coming for brunch tomorrow? ”

“Maybe. I might be working.”

“On a Sunday, too?”

“We get paid time and a half on weekends.”

“Ruby,” she sighs, “just let me pay off your school loans.”

“Nope.”

“Your medical bills?”

“I got it.”

Epilepsy, that is, and I’m not letting my sister help me with that, either. Besides, I have it under control with medication, exercise, and managing stress, which means stressing my smug boss out instead. That usually gives me tremendous relaxation.

“I could just call the hospital and pay your bills,” Scarlett threatens.

“Don’t.” I stand firm and topless. “I’m just like you—a trailer-park girl who doesn’t belong in this fancy world, so don’t make me swallow any more pride than I do every day. I haven’t had an episode in two years, and I’ve almost paid off the last one. I’m fine.”

“I love you” is her perfect answer.

“Love you, too.” I give her one more hug before I race through my morning routine. Shower. Hair. Make-up. Smart watch. A dress and dumb-ass heels.

My smart watch comforts me. It’s to call for help after I have a seizure, or if I can sense one coming. But the rest? I’d rather wear jean shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops, but that doesn’t fit in with the Charleston elite. Trust me; they’ll let you know. They can afford everything but kindness.

“You have a good day, Ms. Jones.” Bruce tips his hat again when I exit the hotel an hour later.

“You, too.” I wave, smiling as I find the sun shining, pink azaleas blooming, and a busker playing her guitar outside an art gallery, so I tip her. She has a beautiful voice, and my day is getting better …

Until I get an annoying text.

Spitting Cobra

Three espressos. NOW

I smirk at my nickname for my boss. One, Axel’s a stalking snake, so it’s fitting. Two, he’s a giant dick, so it’s still fitting. And three, he’s venomous because no matter how much I hate him, he’s in my veins. I think about how much I hate Axel all the time.

If I search ASSHOLE on Google will your face come up

Because fetching your coffee isn’t my job

Spitting Cobra

You suffer fetching delusions of job security

You suffer the assumption being a dick will make yours bigger

…

Why am I smiling and chewing my lip? Why am I turning into my favorite coffee shop and waving to Roberto behind the counter while I wait with bated breath for Axel’s reply?

Spitting Cobra

Listen closely

That’s the sound of the sexual harassment lawsuit I’m filing against you

You’re the boss

You’re my paralegal who brings up my dick

A lot

Like an obsessive litigant

You’re hyper-focused on it

Focus on this