Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
I blinked.
He hung up. “Everyone is in the conference room right now. Louis said that the Lion and Mouse are waiting for us.”
“Shit.” I picked up the panties from the floor and rushed to my closet.
“Those panties are now dirty. I should get you a new pair—”
“Oh. Be quiet. You already made me late.”
“Well, they all know we are on the way.” Giorgio grinned. “I told Louis to announce it to everyone in the room.”
I groaned.
That’s just what I fucking need.
Chapter 39
The Clown Show
Kazimir
The hotel’s ballroom was an enormous space, paneled in dark wood. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the room, made of a thousand hand cut crystals. Each one reflected the sunlight that poured in through the tall windows.
Two men carried a massive flat screen into the room—six feet wide and long. They placed it against the wall and plugged it in. Misha’s face would soon appear on it.
In the center of the room, a long table stood with several chairs surrounding it. Boris, Wassily, and others sat there, waiting for us to begin.
On the other side of the room, a smaller table had been set up and covered in croissants, donuts, teas, coffees, and several juices.
And most important, near the long table, my mouse stood by the window, gazing out of it. The black fedora on her head, cast a shadow across one side of her face.
I scowled.
She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
Today, she looked like a naughty female boss out of a classic black-and-white mafia movie—black stilettos, black tailored suit pants that showed off the fullness of her ass, and black leather suspenders.
Meanwhile, her black buttoned shirt hugged her body and was unbuttoned down to the waist to reveal a blood red bra. Her supple cleavage was on full display for any man’s eyes.
I sneered.
Even more, her lips were painted a deep devilish red. I imagined rings of that color all over my cock as she sucked it. Plus, her hair was pinned back into a tight bun behind her head, just begging to be unraveled by my hungry fingers.
I should cancel this meeting and fuck her on the table, just to show her who really is the boss.
Then, Emily had the audacity to place a diamond cross on the bra cup over the right breast as if she was not the embodiment of a gangster’s wicked wet dream.
We’d had an argument about that damned outfit before arriving.
I told her she couldn’t wear it to the meeting.
She told me I had no say in the matter, to which I roared, and she laughed and strolled away.
I didn’t push it. I had already caused enough trouble. The last thing I wanted was for Lunita to come out during the meeting.
So, I gritted my teeth.
The door opened.
I looked that way.
David entered the room, carrying a huge pearl white fur coat in his hand. “Here you go, Kazimir.”
“This is perfect.” I took it.
“Also, the French are on their way.”
“Good.” With the coat, I headed across the room and then stopped by my mouse. “It is cold in here, mysh. I had this brought to keep our son and you warm.”
She moved her view from the window and hit me with a skeptical look. “Really, Kaz?”
“Are you not cold?”
“You know damn well I’m not cold.”
“Surely, your breasts are—”
“I’m about to stick that fur coat up your ass.”
“Are you aware that no one has ever threatened to stick anything up my ass and continued to breathe?”
Noise sounded behind us.
Jean-Pierre’s voice came next. “Aww. Is that chamomile tea I smell?”
I frowned.
Emily turned around. “I was told you prefer tea over coffee.”
“George Orwell said that tea is one of the mainstays of civilization.” Jean-Pierre strolled to the small table, picked up a cup, and perused the tea selection.
Louis bypassed the tea area and sat at the long table.
The rest of the Perfumed Pansies lined the wall next to many of Harlem Crew.
I scanned the Pansies.
Where is Giorgio? Who cares? As long as he isn’t in here disrupting another meeting.
I returned my view to Jean-Pierre as he poured hot water into his cup.
Last meeting, the Butcher had been decked out in silk pinstripes, gold buttons, and diamonds.
Today, he wore a three-piece chocolate brown suit with a blue shirt and blue pocket square. Diamond studs glinted from his earlobes, and his shoes were polished to a mirror shine.
“And brown sugar too?” The Butcher stirred his tea and placed his view on me. “Finally, someone in the Brotherhood who knows how to properly host a meeting.”
“Forget about the sweetness of your tea, Butcher,” I growled. “Your only focus should be on taking down Black Axe.”
Continuing to stir his tea, he strolled to the long table. “I believe I have an interesting card up my sleeve.”
I eyed him, thinking about Baba’s reading and how Jean-Pierre was supposed to know someone that would help me.