Page 5 of Sinful Mafia Santa

This is the perfect time for me to walk away. I should encourage her to walk around the club I’ve carved out of Brooklyn’s abandoned subway tunnels. Tell her it’s been great seeing her. Wish her a Merry Christmas and get back to my fucking club.

Instead, I ask, “Do you have a minute to catch up?”

Before she can answer, a state senator walks by, tugging the leash of a woman young enough to be his granddaughter. They pause at the nearest conversation pit where she sinks to her knees and starts to suck him off. I’m not sure which is the better actor—her for pretending that his stub of a pencil dick is gagging her or him for groaning like a skyscraper about to collapse.

“Maybe in my office?” I suggest. “It’s quieter there.”

Her fingers tighten around her glass. “I’m meeting a friend. The man who brought me here this evening.”

I don’t want to question the hollow feeling that opens beneath my sternum. Fortunately, I keep a professional smile on tap for emergencies. “Of course,” I say.

“Here he is now,” she says, and I’m not sure if that’s relief or regret that spices her words.

The man who steps to her side is half a foot shorter than sheis. His dirty blond hair is damp from a recent shower, and his tight black briefs show off an impressive bulge. As he kisses Aeryn’s cheek, he eyes a trio of men across the room, paying special attention to the one wearing a necklace of holiday lights shaped like dicks.

“Mr. Lasker,” I say, extending a hand like the welcoming host I am.

“Will,” he says. “Please.”

The last time I saw Lasker at the club, he was spread-eagle on a St. Andrew’s cross, putting on a show with a Daddy Dom on the club’s main stage in the Heart. I’m willing to bet Kynk’s December payroll that his intentions toward Aeryn don’t extend to active play.

Nevertheless, Lasker rests light fingers on her elbow as he tells her, “I’m supposed to remind you about your Christmas Eve catering order. Have you decided on dessert?”

Aeryn’s lips curve in a smile that’s still familiar. “Thanks for looking out for me. I think I’ll go with the cranberry tart.”

He gives her decision more attention than I think it’s worth. His gaze flicks toward me before he asks, “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” she says. “Thank you for asking.”

The guy with the light-up dick necklace laughs, and Lasker’s neck whips around like he’s caught a left hook. “Then if you don’t mind…” he says to Aeryn, his gaze staying glued to the trio across the room.

“Go,” Aeryn says, saluting him with her glass.

“We’ll meet up at two?”

She snorts. I remember making her produce that sound. She used to cover her face in embarrassment, but Aeryn doesn’t look like she gets embarrassed by much anymore. “Please,” she says to Lasker. “You’ll last longer than that.”

He puffs with pride.

“Go,” she says again. “I can get home on my own.”

This time hedoesmanage to peel his gaze away from Dick-light Guy. “Ariel…” he says. There’s honest concern in his voice. Honest affection, too.

She laughs. “I’m fine. But thank you. Go play.”

Third time’s the charm. Lasker brushes another kiss against her cheek before he saunters over to his target.

“How do you know Lasker?” I ask, once he’s out of earshot.

“We were engaged to be married,” she says. “For about twenty-seven seconds.”

“Ouch,” I say.

She twitches one shoulder in a shrug before she finally tastes her whiskey. “He was in the closet. And I thought I was up the duff. My brothers would have killed me if Da didn’t do the job first—so I figured I might as well come home with a ring on my finger.”

I watch her face too closely. “When was this?”

“Ten years ago, come January.”