My eyes all but roll right out of my head. If anyone knows anything about building mansions and the costs that go into it, it’s Roman, but apparently that’s not exactly a topic he feels the need to discuss, not tonight anyway.
“Your father’s place?” the guy stammers out, his eyes widening just a fraction, his first real hint that things aren’t quite what they seem, though he should have figured that out the moment Roman called and invited him here. “Are you guys … uhh … house sitting or something like that?”
“Something like that,” Roman mutters darkly, his tone taking on a subtle hint of excitement, one that only people who have been around him for a while would be able to point out. “He’s on an extended vacation.”
“Oh, umm … cool,” he says, trying to shake off his unease.
Silence fills the mansion once again, but the second Roman leads us out the back and into the cool night’s breeze, the odd tension seems to fade away. We walk for another minute, and I do all that I can not to wrap my arms around myself and start shivering. This is definitely a blanket and warm fire kind of night, but I’m not about to destroy whatever vibe the boys are going for by having my teeth chattering in the background.
Roman leads us out to the massive courtyard that overlooks the most stunning, modern pool I’ve ever seen. There’s a light layer of fog resting on top of the water, and the expensive lights built into it make it appear as though it’s glowing. A small fire pit has been set up, and I try not to be so obvious about my relief.
Roman finally stops walking and indicates to one of the many chairs around the fire. “Why don’t you take a seat,” he offers as his brother drops down next to the warm fire. I do the same and immediately lean forward in my chair, not bothering to scoot all the way back into it as I feel the warmth brushing across my skin.
The dealer hesitantly takes a seat, and I don’t miss the way he cautiously watches Roman. I don’t doubt that he’s heard everything he needs to know about the men sitting around him. He would have done his homework, and considering he’s been working for Giovanni long enough to be in his top ranks, he’d know more than the average shit-kicker dealer found out on the streets.
Roman walks back toward a fully stocked bar and glances toward our guest. “What’s your poison?” he questions, grabbing a few glasses, presumably for his brothers.
“I’ll take whatever you’re having,” he says, his gaze flicking around the small group as he tries to make a show of relaxing, but to be completely honest, he looks anything but relaxed. In fact, he’s doing nothing but making himself appear constipated.
Roman goes about his business pouring drinks, and I try not to smile at the way he pulls out a bottle of white rum and fills it just enough before adding a few cubes of ice, just the way I like it. I’ve got to give it to him, the asshole certainly pays attention.
Marcus and Levi rest back in their chairs, both of them keeping their heavy gazes on the dealer, undoubtedly making him even more uncomfortable as they wait for Roman. Their twisted little moves have me pressing my lips into a hard line, desperate to focus on anything to keep me from laughing.
Roman finishes what he’s doing and piles up the drinks on a silver tray before setting it down on a table and handing them out, leaving me for last. As Roman hands me the cool glass, our fingers brush and his sharp gaze holds mine for just a moment, kicking my heart into gear.
I swallow hard as I take it from him, but when his expression hardens and he snatches his gaze away, anger pours through my veins like molten lava scorching everything in its path. The fuck does he think he’s doing looking at me like that? It was only a few short hours ago that his thick cock was buried deep in my ass. The least he could do is offer me a smile. For fuck’s sake.
Trying to ignore his usual asshole tendencies, I focus on the game at hand.
The dealer is offered a drink and as he takes a long, needy sip, I realize that after all this time, we’ve never even asked him his name, but then, I guess it no longer matters. When the cops come knocking on the door, questioning if we know a man by the name of blah, blah, blah, we can honestly say that we don’t, which is nice in this world. Honesty is rare around here and it goes a long way.
Finding a pair of balls, the dealer drops the glass to his thigh and glances up at the boys, skimming his gaze around the circle, bypassing me, and coming back to Roman, who’s obviously taking the lead on this one. “So, what’s this all about?” he questions. “I assume that it’s not often you invite your dealers for a late drink.”
Roman lets out a breath and leans back in his chair. “You’re right,” he says, his gaze dropping to the contents of his glass as I notice Dill and Doe prancing across the yard as though only just realizing that we’re out here. “We don’t like to bring people into our lives. We’ve always been private men; however, your sales skills have managed to catch our attention, and because of that, we have a proposition for you.”
His brows fly up into his hairline and he gapes at Roman as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “A proposition?” he questions, a sigh of relief in his tone. “I thought this was about missing our meet the other week.”
“We’ll get to that,” Roman says, a dark hint in his tone. “For now, let’s discuss what you can do for us.”
A grin pulls at his lips as he leans forward in his seat, the flames from the fire sending flickering beams of light across his face. “I’m listening.”
Roman pauses a moment as Dill and Doe come to sit by us, casually watching the fire all to the dealer’s horror. His eyes widen with fear at the massive wolves, but he keeps his mouth shut, waiting to hear whatever the fuck Roman has to offer him. “You strike me as a smart man,” Roman starts, bullshitting his way through this by starting with a compliment. “So I am sure that you would have heard whispers that my father is being run out.”
His brows shoot up again. “I, ahhh, no. I hadn’t heard that.”
Roman nods. “Well, consider yourself now in the know,” he says before continuing. “My brothers and I will be taking over the family business, which means there will be some changes.”
“How am I supposed to fit into these changes?” he questions. “I’m just a street dealer.”
“You’ve shown promise,” Roman admits. “Your ability to sell products is like none other that we have seen … at least not for a while. Taking over our father’s business means that we will be taking over his stock, and we’re going to need someone to move it for us.”
The dealer watches Roman through narrowed eyes, and I can see the gears ticking inside his head. “How much product are we talking?” the dealer questions. “There’s only so many connections that I have in this industry. I’m not sure how much more I could move.”
“Not even for a handsome bonus?”
Interest sparkles in his eyes and he takes a moment, throwing back what’s left in his glass. “I mean, that’s a full-time job right there. What you’re asking of me, I’m going to need access to planes, cars, shipping containers.”
Roman nods, understanding how smuggling drugs works. “That’s no problem,” he says. “Perhaps you could use the same ones that you’ve been using while working for my father.”