“Why did the host call you Mr. Ram?”

Leo ate his chicken in peace like he didn’t hear a word I said. He hadn’t said a word since he sat down and looked at his phone. He was being distant and it bothered me. Was it because I called him insane? And an asshole?

“Leo? I’m sorry I called you insane and an asshole.” My voice was almost silent toward the end when he looked up at me.

“Don’t be.” He put his fork down. He didn't look like he was hungry anymore. “I need a reminder sometimes.”

“You okay?” I asked while he looked at his phone again.

“Yeah,” he texted something. “It’s work. I have exactly twenty minutes before I’m on the clock again.”

“Do you wanna leave? I can take my food to go.”

“No, no, no. I want to relax before I head out. Let’s talk about something else. Anything else. Except work,” he pushed his phone in his pocket.

“Why did the host call you Mr. Ram?”

He hesitated to answer. “He was about to call me Mr. Rammus.”

Wait, like my uncle’s old dick of a boss?

“Why?”

“Because I’m Nico Rammus’ son.”

I puckered my lips, disturbed by this new information. Mr. Rammus was a ruthless man. A man who could be compared to scum, but that would be an insult to scum. Mr. Rammus was the kind of man who got into the news for hitting women (mostly prostitutes), drinking and driving and embezzling from his company. But he always got away because he was the best lawyer in Rhode Island and he knew it.

“Didn’t know that did you, eh?” he slouched in his chair. “I’m not like him. Not anymore. And I hate talking about him, so end of conversation.”

And it was the end of that conversation.

“Is that why you changed your last name?” I started poking at my rare sirloin steak, which looked irresistible.

“Yes and no. It was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Leonardo Kelly. Leonardo Rammus.” I hummed. “I like Kelly more.”

He smiled with his eyes, but not his lips. His lips were still stern and soft.

“I hate AC/DC,” Leo changed the topic.

“What!?” I dropped my fork on the plate, the clink noise echoed through the room.

“They are in my top most hated bands. All they do is sing about rock’n’roll like they have to convince people they’re a rock band.”

“Thunderstruck? Highway to Hell? Back in Black? T.N.T? Those are all classics. You can't hate on that.”

He let out one hard laugh. “You naming their popular songs is not an argument. They will never compete with The Beatles, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin or The Rolling Stones.”

“Oh my god. You're a hippie,” I giggled. I never expected him to have such soft musical taste buds. Then again, I never thought I would be sitting in a room we just had oral sex in, talking about our favorite rock bands and eating an expensive lunch.

“I’m actually a mellow man. I had my crazy years in my twenties.” I got a smile out of him which was nice, even though he was obviously still worked up about the text he received. “What are some other bands you like?”

“Okay. Guns n Roses, Metallica and Led Zeppelin. I'll agree on you with that band.”

He nodded, enjoying with the answers I gave. “You didn’t strike me as a rock girl. More like a modern techno-dubstep — whatever that shit is called.”

“No, thank you. I’ll stick to my classic rock and sometimes I dabble in 90s rap.”

We both smiled. I looked down at my plate then darted to my shorts. My fishnets didn’t fit as well as they should have.

“I want a new pair of fishnets,” I muttered.

“Deal. I’ll also toss you a new shirt well I’m at it.”

We dug into our food until he took out his phone again. I saw his stress inflicting pain on his whole body and I felt it. I knew I shouldn't get too comfortable with him, but I asked Leo another question. A question that had been on my mind for a while.

“Why did you name me Kitten?” I sucked on a piece of bloody meat that made my taste buds orgasm.

“Your tattoo,” he gestured the fork at my wrist. “What’s it mean? Or do you like cats that much?”

I looked down at my tattoo. “It was my parents’ cat, Sardine. When they first started dating, they found this kitten behind the dumpster that reeked of sardines, hence the name Sardine. They both fell in love with him and came to agreement that one week my dad would get him and other week my mom would get him. But by the fourth month, they gave up and decided to move in together,” my throat tighten and I was trying my best not to cry. “He means a lot to me. He meant a lot to my parents.”

“K+J,” Leo spoke. My heart throbbed so hard I thought it bruised my ribs. “How else do you think you got the job? That was your best work, because it meant something.”

I didn't say anything, but smiled and looked down at my hand to pick off my nail black polish.

“What were their names?” Leo picked me with a stick for information and even though I didn't want to answer, I did.

“Kimberly and Jonathan,” I looked up at him, tears on the verge of spilling out of my eyes.

“How long ago?”

“Ten years ago,” I sniffed and sucked in my tears back in.

“You shouldn’t have picked at the tattoo if it meant so much to you,” Leo finished his meal and patted his mouth with the napkin, muffling his words.

I looked at my wrist, examining the tail, which was a little discolored from the rest of the body.

“H-how did you know?”

“The color on the tail was picked off. Which means you picked at it or the tattoo artist pressed too hard. But since he did a good job on the rest of it, I am going to assume you picked at it, even though he told you not to.”

“Guessing you have a tattoo?” I narrowed my eyes on him with a smile. I wondered where it could be, but then again I hadn’t seen the top half of Leo.

“We have to go,” Leo ignored my question, picked up his phone and headed for the door to find the waitress.

I got my meal boxed up and we were on the way out. Leo pulled up in front of the coffee shop when he locked eyes with a large man, a biracial Asian man, standing at the bus stop right next to the coffee shop. He stared at the man, who then raised his chin and looked at me. Leo looked over his watched and sighed with relief.

“Thanks for lunch, Leo.” I shifted inside his Benz, feeling the cool leather against my skin and avoiding the burning stare-down coming from out of the car.

“You have two projects,” Leo went into business mode. I wonder if it was because of the man outside the car. “One is my personal project, which I will get ready in a week and we can discuss prices. But the other one needs to be finished in a week or two. I need a new logo and design for my business cards. It will pay five thousand, no more, no less.”

Five thousand dollars? To design a card I already thought was very perfect, flawless, and basically fucking immortal.

“That’s a lot of money …” I barely spoke, the price of the card still having an effect on me.

“Like I said before, never sell yourself short,” his dark green eyes flickered a smile at me for a second. Leo unlocked the doors to suggest I get out. I grasped the handle tightly and opened the door an inch before I heard Leo grunt to stop me.

“By the way, with your uncle and using him to get to you, it won’t happen again.” There was no “sorry” behind his voice but I believed him.

“Promise?” I looked at the biracial Asian man, who was waiting for me to get out of the car.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Say it,” I closed the door and twisted my body to see his face.

“I promise, Mallory.” His smile was dry, but I took it.

“If you break that promise, I will go over to your house and step on all your white shirts.”

He let out a puff of laughter. “You’re insane.”

With that small laugh, I got out of the car and headed toward the coffee shop. But before I did, I saw the biracial Asian man get into the car with Leo. The second he slammed the door shut, he floored the gas pedal and headed to work.