Series: Chicago Sin Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
I work to wait for the shit to be over. I seriously don’t have the patience for this tonight.
It’s hard to imagine I ever will again. Did I really used to enjoy nights like this down at the don’s club? Playing the big man. Working hard to fit in, to play the role.
Now I just want to walk away.
From it all.
But that’s not an option. You don’t get out of La Cosa Nostra. Not when you’re a Made man. Don Pachino owns me now, for the rest of my life.
Arturo waves another girl over with a bill. “Your turn. On him.” He points at me.
Fucking Christ on a clamshell. How long will I have to endure this?
But I know if I don’t, everyone’s gonna read it the wrong way—especially the Don. I gotta show my gratitude, be good natured here. Yeah, I did time, but it’s part of the game. Now I’m out, and they treat me to lap dances and help me set up my life again. I gotta prove I’m worth the effort they’re putting in. Also, that I haven’t rolled over or gone sour.
That’s always the fear when someone’s fresh out of the pen. Especially when they’re out a year early. But I know better than that. That’s a line I would never cross. Not outta fear, either. I am still loyal. This is still my family.
I’m just not feeling it right now.
But I’m not feeling much of anything, so that’s not unusual.
Fucking Emilio sends over another girl, and instead of waiting her turn, they give me two-on-one, a girl’s tongue in each ear, their hands all over my fucking clothes.
My cock is semi-hard because, yeah. Tits in my face. But I’m more low-level disgusted by them than I am turned on.
And honestly? If I’d come here last night—before Hannah—I don’t know if I would’ve even sprouted a chub. Hannah woke my dick from the dead.
And—fuck—she’s tied up and gagged right now in her own bed. That’s the way I repay her.
I am never having sex with you again. I swear to God.
I deserve that. But I’m also asshole enough to hope she’ll get over it. Because right now, she’s my fucking lifeline. She’s the only thing that even seems to make sense—and considering how fucked up our interactions have been up to this point—that’s saying something.
“I got your next one,” Marco calls out to me.
“No, I got it,” Leo offers.
I shake my head and Marco nods, grinning like there’s nothing going on. “All right. Next time, then.”
The dances finish, and I stand up before anyone else can send over a girl. Fuck this. I know I’m being rude. I should stay a few hours, drink a few drinks. Prove my loyalty and work my way back into the inner circle.
But that’s not happening. I walk over to Don Pachino and stand in front of him, giving Emilio the death glare until he says, “What?”
Of course, the guy’s too much of a prick to take a hint. “I need to talk to the don,” I say.
“Give him your seat,” Don G mutters, and only then does Emilio get up, purposely bumping my chest as he passes by.
Johnny, the guy on Don Pachino’s other side, also gets up, presumably to give us privacy.
“What’s wrong?” Don G says immediately.
I sink a little lower in my chair, keeping my gaze trained on the dancing girls on the stage. “Someone has a hit out on me. A cleaner showed up this afternoon outside Rocco’s. I took care of him. Just thought you should know.”
“Who sent him—someone from prison?”
“Yeah. Probably. I iced a gang member on the inside. Might be revenge for that. I don’t know. I’m staying low until I figure shit out. I won’t let it affect the job you gave me or any Family shit. Lo prometo.”
“Call in sick to that job for a few days. You get paid time off. Let things settle. Figure this shit out.”
I nod my head and stretch out my hand to shake the don’s. “All right. Will do. Thank you, Don Pachino.”
“Don G,” he corrects, clasping my hand and letting me know I’m still inner circle. Only his closest soldiers called him by the more informal moniker Don G, for his given name, Giovanni.
I stand and nod at the rest of the group.
“Hey, Mando, want another dance?” Arturo calls.
“Not tonight. Thank you. ‘Preciate it. All of you.” Jesus fuck. I have to force the niceties over my dry lips, and they all sink like ashen lies.
I can’t play this game anymore.
I remember I used to be so good at it. The best. Now it’s like I’m playing a stranger’s part. It all feels so foreign and wrong.
I beeline it out of there and to Hannah’s van.
Fuck—Hannah.
I sure as hell hope she fell asleep.
Chapter Seventeen