DEENA’S MEOWS ECHOED OFF THE walls of the kitchen, and I sighed from my perch on the couch. She was hungry. I understood that. But I was also extremely comfortable.
Dilemmas, man.
A lazy Sunday afternoon. My plans revolved around binge watching Orange Is the New Black, snacks, and a whole lot of nothing else.
Sometimes, the idea of nothing was a beautiful thing. Isn’t that why they invented Netflix?
This morning, I’d woken up in Matt’s apartment, but I meandered back to my place when he headed out to run errands. I doubted his errands resembled normal people errands—groceries, laundry, post office. They were probably more like sharpen knives, pick up a new set of brass knuckles, fuel up the boat so it’s ready to dump bodies.
Obviously, I was definitely kidding. Well, sort of. I’d just leave it at the fact that Matt’s version of errands was slightly different from the norm.
But I didn’t question him. There was no need for me to question him. Over the past two months, Matt had intertwined me into his life so much that I knew when I should take issue with something and when I should just roll with it.
Clad in my comfiest sleep shorts and tank top, I rolled straight into nothing.
Deena’s meows grew louder, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she started taking her nails to the cabinet. With a roll of my eyes and unwanted movement from my legs, I tossed my blanket toward the bottom of the sofa and got to my feet. Once I reached the kitchen, a pair of pleading kitty eyes stared up at me.
It’d only been two hours since I’d last fed her, but apparently, my girl was having an “I want to eat anything, everything, and constantly” kind of day.
I could relate. Period week generally consisted of ravenous snacking in between carb-loaded meals. Donuts. Pizza. Cookies. Ice cream. A full sheet cake. The sky was the limit, and the fridge was my motherfucking oyster during that hellish cycle.
I doubted Deena was having her monthly visit from Aunt Flo, though. She was spayed. But who was I to judge, right? I’d once consumed a forty-dollar meal from McDonald’s in one sitting. And, trust me, it took a determined, food-driven woman to reach that bill. Momma wasn’t just shopping the Value Menu that day.
Deena meowed, and I grabbed a can of Fancy Feast out of the cabinet.
“Patience is a virtue, you know,” I said to her as I filled a new bowl with a kitty entrée of steak medallions and a small scoop of dry food.
She didn’t care. Only capable of impatient meows at this point.
If her meows were words, she’d be bitching.
Once I set her bowl on the floor, she pounced. No hesitation. No show of kitty strides around the kitchen before carefully diving in like a sophisticated feline with manners. Whiskers first, my little diva cat filled up her belly, licking her lips with every bite.
Before I could settle back into my spot o’lazy, my phone pinged with a text message. I snagged it off the counter and tapped the screen. A picture message from my aunt waited in my inbox. It was a photo of her standing in front of the Bellagio, a giant smile on her face.
Aunt Delores: Greetings from Las Vegas!
I loved seeing my aunt out and about, traveling around on her terms. But I was starting to wonder if her church group spent more time in casinos than they did in actual church. It was a crapshoot, to be honest.
Me: Wow. I feel like it was just yesterday you were there. Oh, wait, that’s because it WAS just yesterday.
Aunt Delores: It was three weeks ago, Miss Nosy Pants.
Me: LOL. How’s the city of sin treating you?
Aunt Delores: What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Me: Pretty sure that saying shouldn’t apply to church groups…
Aunt Delores: God understands the need for balance and downtime in our lives.
Me: So, does the gambling fit in before or after church?
Aunt Delores: Smart aleck.
Me: I love you. :) And I hope you have fun preaching the word and gambling away your Social Security check. Speaking of checks, my new job is doing really well, and I’ve wired money into your account.
Three thousand dollars to be exact. I wanted to send more, but I knew she’d lose her shit over that amount. Aunt Delores was a woman who hated the idea of a “handout.” Even if said handout was from the heart and with the sole intention of making her life a little easier.
Aunt Delores: Nope. I’m not accepting your money.
See what I mean? She didn’t even know how much, but already, she didn’t want to accept it. Too bad, Aunt Delores. Come Monday, you’ll be three thousand richer whether you like it or not.
I knew her finances, and, although she had a little saved in her bank account, she mostly relied on her monthly Social Security check to pay for her daily expenses. For a woman who had worked her entire life, she deserved to enjoy the last half of her life without money stress.
And as long as I worked for Wonderland, she could expect and accept more deposits into her account.
Me: Too late. I set it up on Friday. You should get it by tomorrow.
Aunt Delores: You’re a pain in my ass.
Me: You love me.
Aunt Delores: That I do. Even though you’re a pain in my ass.
Me: :)
With a smile on my face, I meandered back into the living room, my mind fully intent on couch surfing for the rest of the afternoon. But before I could sit down, three, loud, pounding knocks echoed off my door.
I startled so hard that I dropped my phone, and it hit the hardwood floor with a cringe-worthy thud.
Three more obnoxious, persistent knocks and Deena sought shelter, skittering out of the kitchen and into my bedroom. Most likely, to her cowardly spot underneath my bed.
“Open up, Alex,” Matt’s voice rang out, loud and harsh.
“Just a minute,” I called toward the door. I picked my phone up off the floor and took a rapid inventory of a, thankfully, intact and working screen, before quickly walking toward the front door.
I opened it, and I’d never seen his amber eyes look so dark, so intense, so angry. And this was Matt. He very nearly always looked angry.
“Is everything okay?”
He stepped inside. “We need to talk. Now.”
Concern clutched at my chest, and my hands shook as I closed the door behind him.
Matt strode into the living room and stood in front of the couch, feet planted wide. “Sit,” he demanded, and I obeyed. White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard and gritted teeth from the effort to remain silent, Matt stalked in front of me. His large, intimating form exuded an animosity that was like acid—burning, slicing, potent.
“What’s going on, Matt?” I asked, really worrying that whatever this was about would be too much to cute my way out of.
His face was red with barely suppressed anger, and his internal rage held all the power of a wildfire. I could practically see the flames roaring in his eyes, ready to ignite anything that he came in contact with. We were all just kindling.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”
“Tell you what?” I asked, truly at a loss.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. “Tell me this,” he answered and handed me the phone.
I stared down at the screen and with a shaking, hesitant finger, eventually found the courage to press play on the video he’d pulled up.
It was footage. Of Evan Saint’s party.
I watched closely as I came into view, roaming around the downstairs level, and then, Eric Queen was at my back, grabbing my attention. He guided me toward the bar, and I knew exactly what Matt was showing me. It was that awful interaction I’d had with a few of his men.
The words sounded just as vile and derogatory on playback as they had in real life.
Once the video ended, I looked up to meet Matt’s hard stare.
God, he was pissed.
I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. “I’m…I’m s-sorry,” I said quietly. “I wasn’t sure how to handle it.”
“If someone, any fucking one, says shit to you like that, you fucking tell me,” he said, his voice deep even to carve the earth. “I don’t care if it’s the goddamn President of the United States or the Dalai fucking Lama, no one talks to you like that. Do you understand?” he questioned. I nodded immediately.
As comforting as it was to know this superscary version of Matt was appearing on my behalf, it was still about enough to make me pee my pants.
Matt leaned down and lifted me off the sofa and into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. Nose to nose, his fierce gaze was locked with mine. “I swear to God if someone talks to you like that again, they’re going to spend the rest of their nonexistent life ten feet underground.”
“That seems a little drastic,” I whispered, but he shook his head.
“You are too fucking important to me,” he said quietly. “I’d die before I let something happen to you.”
As he pulled me tighter to his chest and buried his face in my hair, my heart swelled. Somehow, this man who lived by loose rules and a skewed moral compass had become viciously protective of me. He treated me differently. Special. And he never hesitated to take care of me. Even when it was his own men I was up against.
From here on out, when it came to teams, I knew Matt would always be on mine.
It was strange how quickly someone could go from being a complete stranger to being the most important person in your life. That person who made you wonder how you’d managed to survive as long as you had without them. I didn’t know how I’d managed without Matt, but I knew the idea of him not being in my life felt like pure hell.
Ironically, he’d become my one solid force, my one stability in a world filled with chaos, and I so desperately needed that.
The feeling was so strange; it stretched throughout my whole body. Overwhelmed. Complete. I felt a million things at once. Like I’d stepped into a dangerous fire, yet I was completely safe at the same time.
Within his arms, I found peace.
My heart danced inside of my chest, and a hole, one I’d never been aware of, was filled. I felt so light, like I was on top of the world, yet my heart constricted so tightly that my lungs struggled to breathe.
I buried my face into his shoulder and blinked past the emotion filling my eyes.
I’m in love with him.
I was in love with the big, bad man.