Page 74 of The Boss

“Ha! Got you!" Finn says, finally knocking me off balance. Because I’m distracted.

“Good.” He offers me a hand but I wave him off. “Now go put on your perfume, you smell like tree stump and asshole.”

He laughs and obeys, running quickly out the gym door. Again, it’s a breath of fucking fresh air, someone just…doing what I say.

Finn’s a good kid, really.

Damn it.

I pull out my phone and send a message.

Quinn: Pull Finn off latrines.

Mac: Roger

I’m not mad at Finn. Or this party I’ve complained about all day. The men needed an outlet. Everyone’s jumpy because we know the Russians are attacking soon. We’ve narrowed it down to two safe houses that also double as holding for some of our product before it moves into Canada.

It’s happening in the next two weeks, based on intel we got from a low-level Russian errand boy. Plus, I want to get the two groups, my chosen guys and Zeno and his group, drinking together right off the bat.

“Ugh,” I groan as I get up, disgusted with myself. This is why I didn’t want to get married. Women scramble your brain so your priorities are upside down, inside out, soon everyone is getting shot at or blown up.

Ishouldbe mad about the party, the Russians, the fact that my wife is still spying on my men every chance she gets.

But no.

I’m mad because I really really really want to touch my wife.

But I sure as hell am not going to.

•••••

Fuck me dead.

I waited to come out here. Showered in the gym, missed the appetizers in the kitchen. Made sure I wouldn’t see her in my bedroom. Now, under the glow of the heat lamps we have mounted all over the big covered porch, steam swirling from the heated pool she…

I’m a dead man.

Fuckingdead.

She’s not in a gown. Or something silky or red, overtly seductive. She looks like….dammit, she looks like a Quinn. Likeme.

Black. Leather. A short dress that has sleeves and covers up to her neck, but it’s tied together with little ties in the front. All the way down. I can see her smooth skin underneath, like the whole thing is a corset. Like if I just tucked my finger in one of those holes and pulled, it’d be off in half a second. Those high boots women wear that make any heterosexual man think about what it’d be like to fuck said woman wearing nothing but those boots.

I know she saw me see her, because there’s a faint blush to the tops of her flawless cheeks. She’s talking to Sheila and a couple of the other girls. Smiling, probably making a witty joke at my expense.

I walk in the other direction. If I want to stay sane, stay focused on my task, actually getting to know Zeno better and welcome his men to our ranks, I cannot be around her. I cannot see her or smell her or hear her laugh.

So I find her cousin instead. I pull him and his closest buddy off through the side doors into the gym. It’s an easy conversation starter since my gym is full of cool shit. Men love it in here. We talk with Collin, swapping war stories about the Russians, the DelGados, and the Canadian and Mexican syndicates.

Would we talk shit about each other if we weren’t partnered up? Undoubtedly. But we are, so we rib on everyone who is not present. Mac joins, keeps our drinks full and cold. After a while he gives me a weird glare so I wrap up the tour of the facilities. I stretched it over an hour. As I lead the group back outside to the lounge seating, I almost stop and blurt, “Let’s stay inside!” like a moron.

This is it. I was right about not marrying.

Dead. Man. Walking.

Then she approaches, the moment we’re seated.

I brace myself but she ignores me completely.