Page 42 of The Boss

“Fine,” he says. He still seems amused.

“Same for me. We’ll have to have our hookups in the city.”

“Sure,” he says, seemingly unaffected, but then he adds, “You fuck some guy in the city, I go back later and kill him. Works for me.”

“Very funny,” I scoff, turning on the water to rinse his big, stupid shoes.

“Do I look like a fucking comedian to you?” He says, still calm.

I glare at him, “You must be if you’re saying you think it’s fair for you to screw around as much as you like and I’m going to be celibate the rest of my life? Um, how about no.”

He shrugs a shoulder, “Who said this would be fair? I’m the don. You are the don’s wife. We are not equals here. Plus,” he turns to leave, “You can’t miss what you don’t know.”

I laugh, loudly, “Virgin means I’ve only missed out on one specific thing. I’ve had plenty of experience with—”

“Too bad,” he pauses to cut me off but doesn’t turn around. “Thoseexperiencesare over.”

“Sure,” I sneer. At that, he turns, agitated.Ha! Win for me.

“I meant what I said. Don’t test me. Plus, you’re my wife now. No one will want to crossmeto have you.”

“They won’t? Are you sure?” I pout, bat my lashes and slowly press a soapy hand to squeeze down the back of his boot, which not only looks suggestive but pushes up my cleavage, too.

His eyes flash to my chest for half a breath before he huffs, “Yes.”

I level his own words back at him again, “We’ll see.”

“Get up and go change out of that,” he snaps at me, reaching for his boots.

I sit up. “Oh no, you told the men I’d clean their boots, and that’s what I’m going to do.

“Luna,” he scolds, both of us hearing the crowd of men heading this way, presumably to get said footwear.

“Here you go, honey,” I smile, offering up his boots, now clean but still soaking wet. The sudsy water falls down my arms and drops all over my white clothes. Just as the men file in.

“Luna!” He warns again.

“Hey, boys, here you go! All clean,” I smile sweetly. The men file in but the ruckus dies down immediately.

Quinn moves his body to block their view from the doorway and commands, “Out! She’s not done yet. Come when you’re called.”

“Yes, boss!” They all say almost in unison before vanishing so fast it’s like I imagined them.

Something must flash across my face because Quinn grins.

“You see? I am Skulls Quinn, wife. No one within a thousand miles of here is going toexperienceyou. Hurry up here and tell Sheila when you’re through here. No one comes in until you’re out.”

He gives me his back yet again and I demand, “No more shitty jobs, and I mean jobs with actual shit, Quinn.”

“No more outfits then,” he grunts out and leaves.

I should feel triumphant in a small way, at least, that he agreed not to have sex on the property. That he was affected by myoutfit and shows some sense of possession over me. I get the feeling it’s less about me and my body and more about him and the title of his wife. Still, those are levers that can be pulled.

But I don’t feel triumphant.

In part because I am covered in filth.

And because turn for turn, Quinn is there, unfazed, calling my bluff. My plans keep backfiring. I made up a character, he dug up my file. I donned the sweet persona, he laughed in my face.