Page 13

Chapter 13

Vito

I'm at Gilly's again. Big. Fucking. Surprise.

This might rank at the top of Vito's Most Unhinged Moments. After that encounter with Eden in the back alley, where I nearly lost control and slammed her into the door and ground my rigid cock into her ass, I should've given myself some time and distance from my forbidden but oh-so-tempting fruit. You'd think I'd be smarter and stay away—at least for a little while.

A week. A few days.

But nope. I went back there the very next day— twice —and every day for the past week.

I tempt myself. Taunting her with innuendos that are starting to really straddle the line of appropriateness—actually, if anyone heard my comments, they couldn't be defended as appropriate. But Eden doesn't bring her bat to my nuts whenever I push the line.

So… there's that.

Which gives me insane hope that she only seems uninterested and unaffected by me. Which makes me a goddamn idiot because, even if it is mutual attraction, there's nothing we can do to act on it.

But I still go, and I still toe the line.

At least I have enough sense to keep those comments for when we're the only ones up at the bar, and I'm positioned so no one or none of the cameras can read my lips. To the observer, Eden and I are having a casual conversation.

I'm vigilant about keeping my face unreadable so my obsessive watching of her goes unnoticed. I never look at her for long.

I'm also vigilant in hiding my hard cock whenever I'm in my Garden of Eden.

If I could fuck her and be done with it, she'd be out of my system, and I could finally move on. Instead, I'm trapped in purgatory and haven't even sinned. Well, in terms of Eden, at least.

Yet, I can't stay away.

Hugo wanted to celebrate our win today of sending the bloody message to the Mambo Posse that they aren't welcome in the city, and I, of course, suggested Gilly's. He got shitfaced on tequila, and Dom half-carried, half-walked him out over an hour ago.

I haven't left yet.

I'm slowly sipping my bourbon and working on my phone, even though I'm supposed to meet Raf at Vixen's. But I have no urge to leave my Garden of Eden. And I definitely have no urge to see any other woman's naked, writhing body—not that I'm about to analyze that too closely.

I'm horny as hell because I've only been having fist action for what feels like for-fucking-ever. Going a few weeks of no action is unheard of for me; but going months…well, that's goddamn insanity in the making. I'm hardly keeping it from Raf that I've been celibate for over two months. He knows me better than my brothers do, and I can't have him getting suspicious about my little Eden obsession problem. But I can't seem to get my ass out of this bar and away from her.

Feeling like I need another potent hit from interacting directly with her, I adjust my hard-on in my black pants and go to the bar for one more bourbon.

Eden stoically eyes me as I approach. I try my damnedest not to stare at her amazing rack. She's wearing a dark green long-sleeved shirt, and the shoulders and arms are camo. It looks like an army combat shirt that a soldier would wear and implies war and stay the fuck away. But those tits still make me want to fall to my knees. And everything about her, right down to those sharp, suspicious hazel eyes, kept sucking me in closer.

She leans her elbows on the bar. "Another round of me bending over?"

I hike a brow and give a lazy smile, while my cock jerks in my pants. She usually isn't the one to make the little innuendo comments, but she holds my stare and doesn't back down.

"Only if you're ready."

My comment raises her dark brows and flares her nostrils, and she pushes away from the bar. "You usually only have two, Vito."

I watch greedily as she bends down to grab my preferred bourbon from the bottom shelf. My face is impassive when she stands up. "If you're worried about me as a drunk driver, you could drive me home. I'd let you drive my car as I know you love it, even though it isn't a douche-Porsche."

She smirks, pouring the bourbon, then pushes the glass to me. "Massimo can pick your ass up if you need a ride. Or call a cab like the rest of the world, you fucking cunt."

I can't explain why, but I love when she calls me a fucking cunt. If anyone else other than my brothers or Raf did, even in jest, they'd be bleeding and struggling to breathe, at minimum.

I hold the glass up to her and incline my head. "It's always a pleasure, Eden."

Her full mouth thins into a tight line. "It's Ed ."

"No. You're Eden to me, and no one else here. And I'm 'fucking cunt' to you, though I would slit others from their chin to their legs if they dared to call me that."

Her pupils dilate. The reason is a mystery because I can't read this woman. Is it my casual reference to violence that she knows I'm capable of? Or that we have pet-names for each other?

"Vito," she warns, pushing away from the counter.

Without answering—because I won't stop calling her Eden—I put the money for my drink on the bar top. I really need to leave soon so I can relieve the unbearable rigidness and ache in my cock.

Raf texts me again as I get back to my table.

Where the hell are you?

I know you're not at Lexa's because she's been complain-texting me that she never gets to suck your cock anymore

My gut clenches. Fucking Lexa .

Calm your tits

I was celebrating with Hugo. I'll be there in under an hour

Jocinda is back in town. We can three-way; she's in

I had slept with Jocinda before. My cock doesn't stir with any interest in thinking about the beautiful woman who was down for anything.

One-and-done, buddy. Enjoy

You and your stupid rule

One day it's gonna bite you in the ass

Later, brother

I put my phone in my pocket and enjoy my bourbon, secretly watching Eden. A figure blocks my view and my fingers tighten on the glass as Lixin approaches my table.

I never show it, but I can't stand the pompous, elitist prick. I'm surprised he's here now; he usually only deems the criminal faction's head worthy of his time.

If the Chamber didn't exist, Lixin would be the type of asshole I killed just to prove a point because he's a dick. But if I spilled his blood without excessive due cause—and maybe even then—I'd re-start the war with the Triads that had taken too many people.

"May I?" Lixin points at the chair.

Swallowing my dislike of him, I give him a tight smile.

"Well done on helping the Saints with the Mambo Posse problem." He adjusts the pleat of his pants as he sits.

I tilt my head, regarding him. Lixin talking to me, and giving out compliments like he's handing out Hallo-fucking-ween candy? He wants something. If he's coming to me, it's likely weapon-related.

"What are you looking for, Lixin?"

He relaxes in his chair and rests his ankle on his opposite knee. "Always so straight to the point."

"My time is valuable."

It is, but my comment is also a veiled insult to mean that his time isn't.

His mouth thins, telling me he got the message, but he doesn't react. Which means he wants something big.

"I need something hard to procure."

"Contraband is the Saints' territory." I sip my drink with an impassive expression. Inside, I'm laughing my ass off that I'm pissing him off and not falling to heel like a good little soldier.

"It's weapons-related," he says stiffly but visibly calms his annoyance and anger. I don't show it, but I'm interested as hell in whatever he's after if he's keeping this interaction cordial and not calling me on my bullshit. "I understand you have an in with Adamus Jones."

Well, fuck me sideways.

Jones is a dark figure. No one knows who he really is or where he spends his time, but he pops up periodically, and dark tales are always associated with his name. He's also a bit insane when it comes to making things go boom.

"I'm interested in what he's rumored to have gotten his hands on."

I run my finger along the rim of my tumbler. "The stolen shipment of ShadowStrike X9."

An assault rifle with a night laser scope that does nine hundred rounds per minute on full auto. It's a serious weapon. Jones allegedly intercepted a few hundred that were supposed to go to an underground outfit in North Africa with white supremacy leanings, making enemies out of them. Jones didn't give a shit, though; he's in it for the money, not making friends.

I want to ask what Lixin needs the weapons for, but that isn't how this works. "Jones has been unreachable lately. And those guns are likely gone by now."

He shrugs. "That's the opener. What I really want is the InfernoCore MK-IV."

An explosive device system that's rumored Jones himself created. One that is mega-powerful, precise as fuck, with cutting-edge technology.

"You preparing for war, Lixin?"

"One always needs to be prepared."

My brows furrow. "Are you having trouble with the Lopez Cartel?"

Drugs are the biggest revenue source for the Triads. This is Lopez territory cartel-wise, and who the Triads and Fire Clan worked with for the drugs they pushed.

"Can you get me in contact with Adamus Jones or not?" he snaps.

My face is hard and assessing—the face of a predator.

He sees he's pushing me and threads his fingers through his hair, easing his glower. "If you can get me in touch with him, I'll be in your debt."

Playing nice, swallowing my insult, cooling his temper, and acknowledging he'd owe me? Now I know Lixin means business.

Unease ripples down my spine, thinking again about why he'd want these weapons. "Like I said, Jones has been unreachable. But if I am successful, I'm the one who brokers communication with him."

It's how Jones rolls. Plus, I'm not giving up my contact's information so Lixin can circumvent me.

Before he can protest, Gus enters the barroom from the kitchen. He says something to a group of Fire Clan, Triad, Santoro men, and a few other independent criminals, which makes them roar with laughter.

Lixin looks over his shoulder and watches Gus walk to the bar to talk to Eden. "He's usually gone by now."

Gus usually is, but I know he worries about Eden after what happened with Aiken. Ambrose, or one of his security team members, always stays with Eden during the final closing, but Gus periodically pops in.

Lixin turns back to me and knocks his knuckles on the table. "Let me know whatever you find out about Adamus Jones."

I nod, watching him stand. "Don't hold your breath."

He stiffens but shrugs it off. "Just asking for you to try, brother."

My jaw and fist clench at him calling me brother, referring that we're fucking pals. I keep my trap shut out of respect for Massimo—I don't want to cause more headaches for him because I know Lixin would run like a little bitch to complain to him.

"I'll keep you posted," I say tightly.

He briefly glances at Eden and Gus, who are talking with their heads close, then turns on his heel and walks out of the bar.

My fingers tap against my glass, and I contemplate whether to tell Massimo about Lixin's request tonight or tomorrow. Before I can decide, the door to Gilly's opens again.

I watch as Eden's eyes flick to it, as they always do, to observe who has entered her domain.

Usually, it's a quick glance to assess for threats.

But now, her body and face go rigid. Gus stops talking and looks at her with concern.

My eyes swivel to see what caused Eden to react so instantly and harshly. She never reacts.

Seeing the couple standing just inside the bar's threshold, clasping hands, slaps me with understanding.

Edna and Peter Fallen.

I'm on my feet instantly.

Eden stalks out from behind the bar, pointing at the intruders with one hand and fisting her bat in the other. "Get. Out."

Her parents stand there, unmoving. When Peter opens his mouth to speak, Eden yells, "Get the fuck out!"

Gone is her unreadable, emotionless, cold mask. In its place is fury, but also pain and panic.

Security is approaching Peter and Edna, but I get there first.

"You heard her." I use the low, menacing voice that strikes fear into my enemies.

They recognize me from the graveyard but see I'm no ally of theirs.

"Eden, please…" Edna's eyes spill over with tears. She looks fearfully at me and the security crowding around us, and then back to Eden. "Please," she tries again. "Christmas is in a few weeks."

"Shut the fuck up." Eden's face is cold and back to looking more emotionless. "You step foot in here again, and I won't be responsible for the outcome."

Nodding at the security, she glances at me—probably wondering what I'm doing in the middle of this—then stalks away.

"Gus, cover the bar, please," she orders as she goes through the door into the hallway that leads to her office.

"Mr. Santoro," Peter tries me.

I eye him and his wife coldly. "The owner and operator of this facility has ordered you to leave. You will forcibly be removed if you don't turn around and walk out that door."

Peter takes his wife's hand, who's openly crying now, and they leave. The security eases back, and the crowded barroom resumes what they were doing. Gus is behind the bar; he catches my eye, and I go over there.

"Was that who I think it was?" he asks me quietly.

I nod. "Aiken ever say anything about his parents or family?"

Gus's brow furrows, making the scar at the top of his nose pop. "Whenever the subject came up, he shut it down."

"Sort of like his sister," I murmur.

When I drove Eden home that first night, I tried to apologize for my role in what had happened at the graveyard. She nearly jumped down my throat and told me that Edna and Peter Fallen were not on the docket for discussion.

"At Aiken's funeral, when Eden encountered her parents, she said Aiken had disowned them years ago."

Gus drags his hand over his face. "I know nothing, Vito. Honest. But I think it's wise to drop it."

I fix a look on my face that communicates I'm more than happy not to get drawn into family drama. "I'm headed out. Have a good night, Gus."

"Night, Vito," he says as one of the servers comes up to the bar with a large order.

I don't leave Gilly's, though. Instead, I make it look like I'm headed to the bathroom. I bypass those and continue walking down the hallway to Eden's closed office door.

If I knock, I know she'll tell me to get fucked and go away.

Glancing over my shoulder to ensure the hallway is empty, I turn back to look at the keypad that will unlock her office door. I try the code Gus and I had succeeded with before—the phone number Aiken had given Gus for Ed.

The green light flashes, and I smile, then slip inside.

Eden's back is to me and the door. The bat isn't in her hand any longer, which bodes well for me walking out of here with all my teeth and nuts intact. She grips a bottle of fire whiskey. Her hand clenches around the bottle's neck, and it looks like it's shaking.

When I re-arm the lock on her door, she swings around, startled. Her hazel eyes are wide and filled with pain.

Seeing that pain is like taking a bullet to my gut for some reason, and I have to shake it off.

She quickly schools her features back into her impassive look and glares at me.

Then she sinks into her chair behind her desk and takes a drink from the bottle. She grimaces and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth. "I knew I should've changed that fucking code."

I settle into the chair on the other side of her desk and reach for the bottle. After I take a long pull, my throat burns, and I grunt out, "That really is the shits. Christ, Aiken." I push the bottle back toward her. "No idea why he loved that so much."

"I think it's the cinnamon," she says quietly. "He loved anything with cinnamon."

Closing her eyes, her hand squeezes around the neck of the bottle, but it doesn't look like it's shaking anymore. When she opens her eyes, she levels me with a cool look. "The subject of Edna and Peter Fallen is still off-limits. And get out of my office; this will look bad."

I remain seated. Instead of leaving, I go with some truths that I know.

"I know Fenton was your sister, and she died in a hit-and-run." Eden jerks like I slapped her. "She was twelve; you were fifteen and ran away from home shortly after that. That was when Aiken disowned your parents, wasn't it?"

She shoots to her feet. "Get the fuck out of my office, Vito."

I calmly sit back and interlink my fingers over my stomach. "No."

Rage erupts all over her—I've never seen anything like it—the way her eyes flare like an inferno has flamed to life inside her, her pupils dilate, her chest heaves… It’s how I picture her, wild with need, as she rides me hard.

I push the sexual thought away.

She stalks around her desk. Fisting her hands in my jacket, she yanks me from the chair. I go with the movement. Her intended strategy isn't to slam our bodies together, but I realize too late it's mine.

I have no idea what the hell I'm doing, but I can't make myself stop. Especially as her tits press against my chest and the curve of her torso, hips, and legs fit perfectly in every nook and cranny of mine.

When I rest my hands on her hips, my fingers grip her hard. She feels my steel cock pressed between us and shoves away from me.

Her control has slipped, though. A feeling of satisfaction ripples through me because I can see the want and need in her eyes, which echoes and screams out to mine.

She backs away, pointing her finger at me, circling her desk so it separates us. "Get out." When I make no move, she orders more coldly, "Get out, Vito."

I cock my eyebrow at her. "Afraid of what might happen on this desk?"

Her eyes widen. I'm not butting up to the line, but I'm ready to blow that fucker out of existence.

"I told you before: I don't bend over for cocks."

Running my thumb over my lip, I watch her. Her eyes track the movement of my thumb on my lips, and she licks hers. She hasn't gotten her guard fully back up yet, and I have no intention of letting her.

"You don't bend over for cock, but maybe you lay on your back… legs over the shoulder… for cock? You maybe want a face-connected-to-a-body-with-a-cock buried in your pussy and licking you until you come."

Fuck, I know I do.

"Goddammit, Vito, get out!" Her chest heaves, her hard nipples poking through her shirt.

She looks down at where I'm now staring at the betrayal of her arousal, and she curses like a sailor. She glares at me when I lift my eyes back up to hers. "You're on a mission to get both of us killed, you fucking cunt," she hisses.

"So, is that a yes?" I tilt my head to the side.

Unfortunately, her control is returning. "It's a: I don't want your face, cock, or any part of you. Not every woman will fall onto your dick just because you want it or demand it, Vito."

"That sounds like a challenge." I lick my lips.

Her eyes start to dip to my mouth again. She catches herself, and those gorgeous hazel orbs slam back into mine.

"Here's a challenge, you fucking cunt," she grits. "Get the fuck out."

I chuckle, and my phone rings. I let it go to voicemail, but it starts again immediately.

"Get out and go take your phone call," she tries to dismiss me.

I take out my phone but don't comply with the rest of her order. I answer my phone. "Massimo, now's not a good time—" He cuts me off, and I fall silent and still, listening, then I say, "I'll be right there."

After I hang up, I feel like the foundation of my world is starting to rumble and threaten to collapse.

Eden comes around the desk. Somehow she knows what that phone call was about. Maybe because, for once, my emotions are written all over my face.

"Shit," she whispers. "I'm so sorry, Vito."

My hands clench as I want to roar in denial. Her hazel eyes sear into mine, grounding me and stopping me from spiraling into a well of anger and despair.

Then, I leave to say goodbye to Babbo.