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Amelia---3 A.M.

It is three in the morning. I should be sleeping, not baking a batch of kitchen sink cookies. I can’t remember the last time I had my hands covered in flour like this. The measuring of ingredients, the mixing and scooping of dough, the smells of baked goods wafting through the house. I find the repetition a way to quiet the ever-constant whispers in my head. It is also a great stress relief, but as the head of the Conte Family, that doesn’t do much.

My hip aches from being slammed against a concrete sidewalk a few days back. Gods, I hate when I have to enforce what should be unspoken rules—what would be a given had I been born with a cock. Duncan had called me, explaining how the two men in question thought it necessary to, quote, “make sure the lowlifes knew their place.” Silly men, always sticking their noses where they don’t belong. No. In my Outfit, we stick to a code. This code allows everyday people to live their lives without having to pay for protection from my men. This is my city. Our city. Everyone benefits from my leadership, no matter their status.

When I reach Duncan, the two men in question are smirking, as if they think they don’t have to listen to me. As I approach, I find myself waiting for the inevitable outcry—for pleas of forgiveness, the rationalization of their actions falling from blubbering lips.

“Why am I here, Duncan?” I sigh, watching the men as their eyes bounce between us.

“These two idiots decided to take enforcement into their own hands and demand payment from Parker for ‘protection’. They held her up while she was closing and said they were there representing you.” Duncan shakes his head, in disbelief. “If Parker hadn't been on the phone with me, who knows what would have happened.”

I shift my weight, dipping my head as the men spew their fucking bullshit. I am growing tired of men trying to dictate how I run things. At the end of the day, I am the Regina and they aren’t. I hate that no matter how hard I try, Parker is always going to be caught up in this life, in my darkness. Duncan stares at me, wanting to reach beyond his station and pummel the men himself, but he won’t. To do so is to effectively spit in my face, even if it is in defense of his wife.

“Why do you feel it necessary to scare women?” I tilt my head, my eyes holding theirs. “Hmm? Does it make you feel big? Are you compensating for something?”

I watch as their eyes widen, as the realization of their fuck up hits them because not only are they out of turn, but they threatened my best friend.

“If you need to assert dominance on a woman, go ahead. I’m right here.”

Duncan makes a noise of disagreement. He isn’t a fan of me putting myself in harm’s way, however, these men are pushing fifty and I’m feeling just stabby enough to want a fight.

I allow them to knock me to the pavement once, filling their egos, before I strike.

I groan, stretching my body. There is no use in returning back to bed only for my alarm to sound in a few hours. I sit at my kitchen island, grab the remote, and flip the television on. I drop my head into my hands, mentally preparing myself for what the morning report from Duncan will be. I already know that I likely will not have an update on Medina’s location. He’s a clever man, someone who can easily slip through the cracks unseen. The Don is used to operating in the shadows but what he fails to understand?

I sold my soul to control the shadows. The night answers to me alone.

I hear a purr followed by the brushing of soft fur against my forearms. Lennon. “Go away, Len,” I moan, not amused by his antics this early in the morning. He is a persistent fellow and simply doubles down on wanting affection, causing me to lift my head.

“You are the best, you know that?” I smile, chuckling to myself as my fingers scratch between his ears. “You go for what you want, huh?”

My thoughts turn to Rhodes. I’ve never felt so seen by someone. He doesn’t seem to care about the power of my last name or what I do for work or any of the typical things. Rhodes wants to spend time with the version of me very few see. I don’t know the last time I was allowed to simply exist without stipulation. Every movement in my life has been one of calculated risk with very little—if any—personal gratification. That man? He wants me to want things; to demand more of my life. I feel as if I could soar with him and the mere thought of that terrifies me.

Lennon stretches under my hand and I think of what it would be like to stretch myself against Rhodes, those hard ridges pushing against my soft curves. I wonder what his stubble would feel like along my jaw, under my lips. How soft his hair would be as I guided him exactly where I needed him. I’d never be able to fully be with him—not with my past.

My lips part and I lift a hand to run my fingertips along them, my eyes falling closed at the dream I wish could be a reality. I’ve never wanted so badly to be anyone but who I am by birth.

My eyes open and scan the counter as I contemplate the fact Rhodes will be at The Morning Medusa this morning. The look that flickered across his face when I’d revealed my injuries was one of disbelief…and of anger. I haven’t spoken to him since dinner the other night. Chewing my top lip, I wish I would have been brave and asked for his number. Shaking the thought from my head, I glance at the clock, seeing that Parker’s coffee shop will be open soon. I might as well get an early start.

I stand, giving Lennon one final pat on his head, and head toward the bathroom. Shower, coffee, office. I don’t have time to think about Rhodes’ lips on mine.

I make it the entire drive to Parker’s before I crack, images of Rhodes flickering through my head, and I scrunch my face as the front door of The Morning Medusa opens. It’s busy, so I give Parker a wave and head toward my table.

I take two steps before I look up, stopping dead in my tracks.

Rhodes is at my table. The man I haven’t been able to get out of my fucking head is sitting at my table, with my coffee in front of him. Our eyes lock, a feline grin lighting up his face. It reminds me of the way he smiled when I’d approached him at the restaurant. A feeling I don’t recognize creeps along my skin and my chest tightens. I finally, slowly, make my way next to him and a breath, one I didn’t realize I’d been holding, releases.

“This is my table, you know.”

He chuckles, those strong hands wrapping around his mug, and I wish they were wrapped around me instead.

“I know, kochanie .”

Kochanie . My eyes twitch as a shuddering breath leaves my mouth. This feels intimate , like a secret language between lovers. I tilt my head as I slide into the empty seat beside him. His scent envelopes me like a hug and the tension I’ve carried all morning slowly begins to ebb. I blink rapidly, attempting to regain the upper hand in this conversation.

“I don’t recall you asking if you could sit here.” I place my feet on the crossbar, relaxing slightly. The audacity of him to assume that he could infiltrate my space is astounding. “I don’t like people sitting with me.”

“I didn’t ask.” I feel my eyes narrow at his confidence and damn, is it attractive? I shouldn’t be attracted to a man thinking he can simply do what he wants. Bad Amelia.

“Is that my coffee?” He shrugs, a grin playing on his lips.

“I wasn’t entirely sure what you ordered, but Parker helped me out a tad.” Rhodes mutters something else under his breath. “She’s nice, at least when she wants to be.”

I burst out in a full laugh, the thought of Parker helping Rhodes make sure he had my coffee order correct was amusing. I don’t know when I last laughed like this, freely and loudly without a single hesitation. I grab the cup, bring it to my lips and smile. Parker hadn’t done him dirty—a lavender oat milk latte is my poison of choice and no one makes it like my best friend. There is a reason her coffee shop is the best spot in the city.

I peer up, noting the way his face is tight in hesitation. “Did I do okay?” He is unsure of himself. It is a stark contrast to his air of confidence from our dinner but I don’t mind it. It is as if he wants me to be happy, even down to something as small as my morning coffee.

“You did.” He smiles, relief painting his features and he leans back into his chair.

“I was hoping you’d be here this morning. I wanted to talk to you.” He pauses, poignancy hanging in the air. “I really enjoyed our dinner the other night, Amelia. I honestly haven’t had that much fun in a really long time.”

“It was nice,” I say, trying to be non-committal with the happiness I had felt as well.

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet here in the mornings? Maybe have coffee together?” I know he sees the uptick of my mouth as I ponder. “Absolutely no pressure, but we are both here anyway, and I can’t stop thinking about a certain dark haired beauty. I won’t even talk. We can just sit in silence; I’ll work my puzzles and you pretend to read your book.”

My head snaps up, shocked that he’s noticed how I don’t actually read the books I bring with me. What else has he noticed? My mouth opens, a sound coming from it before I shake my head. I shouldn’t, should I?

He’s watching me, a knowing look on his face, as I wrestle with the gravity of the choice. I see a twitch of his lips as I lay my demands on the table.

“No talking?”

“None, unless you command it, kochanie .”

There it is again. Kochanie. I suppose that if Rhodes remains silent, I can ignore him. Yes, that will be fine.

“Fine. You can sit here. One word and you’re out, Rhodes.”

He makes a zipping motion with his fingers against his lips, throwing an imaginary key over his left shoulder. It makes me smile. He makes me smile. We settle into our routines; the sound of his pen crossing the newsprint mingles well with my turning of pages. It is a feeling of familiarity, of contentment. I notice him constantly glancing my way and it is as though he wants to say something. Rolling my eyes, I close my book and face him. He lasted a mere twenty-seven minutes.

“What?”

“You are gorgeous, Amelia.”

I chuckle to myself. The man was nearly bursting at the seams just to say that I’m pretty. I quirk an eyebrow in response, and that brings a grin to his face.

“Thank you.” It comes out softly, disbelief coating my tone.

“I have a meeting I have to run to, but I still would like to take you out again. Something small, no expectations. Just two people getting to know each other.”

I run my tongue over the top of my lip and try my best to ignore the voice screaming at me to say yes. I shouldn’t. I can’t. “I, um,” I don’t get much further when Rhodes suddenly stands and collects his things. Fuck. “I don’t mean to make you upset, Rhodes. I just—”

“I know.” He grabs my hand and places it in his. The movement is brief, but there is warmth there. My body doesn’t immediately recoil from his touch this time. Instead, it feels like the smallest hug. “This is your call, Amelia. Having coffee with you, like this, is enough.” Rhodes leans over and places a chaste kiss on my cheek. “Have a good day, okay?”

I’m shocked as he leaves. That kiss felt like a slap. No emotion behind it, no connection. It felt as if he placed his lips on my cheek out of obligation. I watch as the flannel draped across his wide back walks further away from me.

No.

Kisses are not meant to be that way.

I stand, the chair falling to the floor and making a clatter in the loud shop.

“Rhodes!” I call out, my voice shaking slightly, hoping he’ll hear me before he reaches the door. “Rhodes, wait!” I run, weaving through the crowd until I reach him. I grab his shoulder as he starts to turn.

“Amelia,” he breathes out, like an answer to a besought prayer shouted to the heavens over and over. I don’t think, I don’t analyze the probable repercussions of my actions. Fuck it. Fuck the reasons not to.

I slam my lips on his, throwing caution out the damn window. He tastes the way a fresh mug of coffee smells on a rainy day. His mouth opens and I moan, resting my palms on his broad chest, fully aware of his strength. I deepen the kiss, our surroundings disappearing as I coax his tongue to run along mine. I stroke his tongue with mine, feeling his arms wrap around my waist. He pulls me into him and I resist the screaming desire to flinch.

My need to be consumed overpowers the need I have to run.

He pulls back, his eyes wild and chest heaving. I’m sure my lips are swollen too. I barely catch my breath before I hold his stare.

“ That is how I will be kissed, Rhodes.”

He breaks out into a laugh and a knowing smile.

“And I’d very much like to go on a date with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”