Sitting up in bed, I reach for a cigarette and last night’s whiskey. Lighting my smoke, I slide out of bed, whiskey in hand, and walk out on my back patio. The sun is barely peeking out from the clouds and I blow out a puff of smoke into the air.

Taking a sip of my drink, I let it burn as it slides down my throat. It reminds me of her, of Giovanna. I should have walked away as soon as I saw her, as soon as my cock hardened at the sight of her. She is trouble, trouble that I cannot afford.

I don’t have time for a woman in my life. I have four children, crews of men to run, and a new brother-in-law to keep happy. Not to mention, I have a wife that I should have killed. However, I ache to go back to her as soon as possible. I finish my drink, then my morning smoke, before I head back inside to face the day.

Once I’m showered, I slip on a dark gray suit, a black shirt, and a black tie. Slicking back my dark hair with gel, I take a look in the mirror. My blue eyes aren’t as bright as they used to be, my face has extra lines and wrinkles from stress, most of it caused by Fallon and my father. I wish I didn’t feel a hundred years old, instead of forty. I wish for a lot of fucking things.

A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts, and I walk over to it, unlocking, and pulling it open. Standing in front of me is my oldest son. At twelve, he’s no longer a little boy, but growing into a man. His dark eyes remind me of Fallon’s, but his personality is all me.

“Caleb, what is it?” I ask.

He looks at me, then down at his own shoes before he speaks. “Elo says that you’re going to do a party and Aunt Devyn will be coming,” he murmurs.

“Speak up and look me in the eyes when you talk to me.” I watch as his neck straightens, and his dark eyes meet my own when his head tilts back.

“There will be a dinner, a catered dinner with the family, yes. What’s wrong?”

He shifts from leg to leg. Obviously, there’s something he wishes to speak to me about. Instead of badgering him for an answer, I wait him out. It doesn’t take him long to gather his courage. “Is this something where you tell us you’re getting married again and introduce us to your new wife?” he asks.

My eyes widen, then I blink, slowly. “New wife?” I choke out.

He nods. “Yeah, I mean… Mom’s not coming back,” he states.

Reaching out, I wrap my hand around his shoulder and guide him into my bedroom, over to a chair that serves no goddamn purpose in the corner of the room. I guide him to sit down, and then I crouch on my haunches in front of him. “Are you upset she isn’t coming back?” I gently ask.

I watch as the wheels turn in his head, he thinks about it for a moment, then shakes his head. “She wasn’t really around. I don’t really miss her, you know? I guess it wouldn’t matter if you married someone else, odds are they wouldn’t be around either.” He shrugs. “All my friends say their moms and stepmoms are the same way.”

His words are like a punch to my gut. When I was little, my mother was wonderful. She was kind and caring, always around, always home when we walked in from school. She always had something warm for us on a cold day, and she was the only person who hugged us. By the time Devyn came, she wasn’t the same woman, and then she died. My father, his abuse hardened her, hardened us, and then it deformed him. I don’t want to be that, not to my kids, not to anyone.

“Would you like someone who was around?” I ask.

He lifts a shoulder, his eyes quickly going to his shoes. “I don’t need hugs and shit. The little kids might though,” he lies, my boy.

He needs hugs, and shit. All kids do. I lift my hand, wrapping it around his shoulder again and I tug him against me. I wrap him in a hug. His body is stiff for less than a minute and then his arms wrap around my body.

“If I were ever to bring a woman into our lives again, then she would meet you and your siblings before the rest of the family,” I say against his ear.

He takes a step back, the loss of his hug leaving me aching for more from my boy. Clearing my throat, I stand. “So, no more worries?” I ask. He shakes his head.

Elowen appears a few minutes later and gives us a smile. “The car is here for school, Caleb. Time to go,” she calls.

He hurries out of my room and leaves me alone with my Elowen. She does the same foot shifting thing, so I wait her out as well. “How important is this party?” she asks, biting the corner of her bottom lip.

“It’s only family, Wen. Nothing more, nothing less. An evening with our family, that’s all,” I gently explain. She lets out a breath before she nods. Without another word, she turns and hurries away.

I close my eyes, slowly blinking. My children obviously need more attention from me. I feel like shit because I haven’t been around as much as I should be, even if it is more than I used to be. I don’t know if I will ever be the father they need me to be for them. All I know is that I’m fucking trying. Unfortunately, I don’t think that trying is nearly enough.

My phone rings in my pocket and I quickly pull it out, ignoring the name on the screen as I swipe to accept the call. “O’Neil,” I bark.

“I assume that your evening was satisfactory?” an accented voice gently asks.

I grunt as my response. “I will text you her number. If you wish to visit her again or have her accompany you anywhere. Please feel free to text her and tell her your desires. She is at your complete disposal,” he announces.

“Complete?” I ask, arching a brow, thinking about the words she said to me last night.

He clears his throat. “Yes, sir. Timofei has seen to it.”

Without another word, he ends the call, then less than five seconds later my phone sounds with a new text message notification. Looking down, I see that it is from Moriz. It’s a simple phone number, nothing more, nothing less. Which seems to be an ongoing theme between this Giovanna and me.

I’m not sure how I feel that Timofei found a prostitute for me. I should be pissed, but I’m not sure that I am. Giovanna is, perfection. She is easy and uncomplicated, which is exactly what I need. She will be useful until I decide to settle down with another wife. I shake my head. I sound like such a fucking dickhead. I sound like my father.

Leaving my house, I decide to head to the bar. My brothers should be there, opening and collecting protection dues today since it’s the first of the month. Shoving my phone in my jacket, I try to ignore the phone number that’s burning a hole in my suit pocket. Fuck, I want to call her. I want to set up another meeting with her for tonight. I can’t get her smell, the feel of her mouth, or her cunt out of my fucking head.

Christ, I’m screwed.

My house phone rings. Immediately, I pick it up. It’s not as if I were asleep at this hour, though I should be. No, I was up all night thinking, and crying. I’m a sight to be seen. “He has your phone number now. He’ll text you when he needs you.” Moriz ends the call and I am met with silence. I gently place the phone down and inhale deeply.

Standing, I walk to the kitchen and grab a cucumber. I need to spend the day taking care of my puffy face if I’m officially on call for Aidan. I’m not sure what the future will hold with him, but if I want to keep him as a client, I need to be at my best.

Letting out a puff of air, I gather my things, taking them into the bathroom. I draw myself a hot bath, adding Epsom salts before I slather my face with a pore reducing cream and cover my eyes with cool cucumber slices.

Once I’m ready, I sink down into the hot bath water with a sigh. My phone is playing my relaxing playlist and I try to calm myself. I need to stop thinking about Aidan as anything more than a client. That is exactly what he is, exclusive or not, he is nothing but a client to me. If he continues to fuck me and leave me, the way he did last night, it should be easy enough for me to remember that fact.

I’m almost asleep when my phone alerts with an incoming message. The interruption to my music causes me to jump slightly. Reaching down next to me, I wipe my wet hand on a towel and reach for my device. I slide my thumb across my screen at the unknown number.

I let out a breath. Yes, this should be easy enough to remember that he is nothing but a client.

Quickly, I save his name into my phone. I don’t get many calls, well, Moriz and my father are the only names saved. My heart picks up its pace when Aidan messages me again. His name being there makes far too much of a difference.

I shiver at his instructions. I’ve never, not ever, been asked to bare my natural face for a man. Makeup is part of my armor. My sexy lingerie is another piece of my armor. Without both, I don’t know how I’m going to feel. My fingers shake as I respond to his message.

I set my phone down, knowing without a doubt that he will not be messaging me again. Aidan doesn’t seem like a man of very many words, in fact, I’m surprised that he messaged me as many words as he did.

Closing my eyes, I try not to picture him. I try, and I fail. His image comes to mind, his tall strong body, his dark hair, and his eyes, so damn light that they practically pierce through a person. Aidan is trouble, and instead of calling Moriz and begging to end this between us, I’m apparently a masochist, so I don’t.

My heart skips a beat, my fingers shake as I read the text. Shit. I’m in so much fucking trouble. I don’t respond. Afraid to open up any kind of dialogue with him. I try to put that wall back up, that wall that helps me differentiate that he is a client, and I’m nothing but a whore—especially in his eyes.

After my bath, I spend the rest of the day relaxing. I paint my toenails, change my fingernail polish, and do a deep conditioning treatment on my hair. Then I go over the things I need to do tomorrow. I’ll clean the entire condo, again. I’ll change the bedding and freshen it up. Then, after that, I’ll do a workout before I need to get ready for Aidan. It apparently won’t take me very long because he doesn’t want me to wear any makeup or clothes.

I check my phone far too often throughout the day. Giovanna never replies to my message. I didn’t ask her anything, nor leave anything open for discussion, but I was hoping she would send me something. I frown. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’m practically pining after a prostitute, a whore.

“You’re deep in thought, a woman?” Rian, asks me.

I grunt. Not wishing to give anything away, but unable to deny it as well. I haven’t been able to get Giovanna off of my mind since I woke up this morning. She’s taken up permanent residence, and I don’t think I’ll be able to get rid of her easily.

“Who is she?” he asks, sitting down across from me.

Lifting my gaze to his, I smirk. “Don’t you have a bar to run? People to shake down? Guns or dope to sell?”

He snorts. “Fuck, Aid. Who is this broad?”

I shake my head. “Literally, nobody,” I murmur. “You’re coming to family dinner, yeah?” I ask.

He lifts his chin as he stands. Thankfully accepting my hint that I refuse to talk about my mystery woman. He knows better than anybody that there will be no way to get information out of me that I’m not willing to spill.

“I’ll be there, Mona, too. She’s excited, hasn’t seen Devyn in far too long,” he winks.

I give my brother a grin, lifting my chin as he leaves me alone. Picking up my phone, I decide to send Timofei a text in response to one he sent me earlier.

Biting my bottom lip, I growl.

I turn my phone off. I don’t want to read, or listen, to gloating from my brother-in-law.