Part of Your World

I Don't Lose

"What—no," I growled into my phone, distracted as hell as I attempted to choose between fifty fucking swatches of paint colors to match the curtains, and the flooring, and all the cushions. How this task had fallen solely on me was still unknown, and I was pissed about it. I pinched the bridge of my nose, a bit hungover and tired as hell after last night, and the constant sound of power drills and hammering was doing nothing to help me.

"Why not, dumbass?" Niko argued on the other end. I threw the swatches aside, striding to the back of the club for a quieter space as a migraine reared its ugly head.

"Because—a whistle, really?"

He snorted.

"Well, she can't really scream, and you don't seem too keen to put a gun in her hands anytime soon, so a fucking rape whistle will have to do. You can't treat her like a child," he said. I sighed, resigned. We'd been talking all morning, sifting through options on ways to make Aria safer—ways to improve her communication if she was in danger. Niko was right, as he so often was, damn his methodical mind. I couldn't force Aria to accompany me on every job, and I knew if I kept following her like she was five, it would kill any sort of attraction she may be feeling toward me.

My cock jumped at the thought of her in my arms those precious few hours last night.

"Fine, buy it," I relented. The sound of clanking dishes on the other end of the phone met my ears.

"Is she fucking cleaning?" I hissed, livid. Niko chuckled.

"She told me she was only going to do her laundry," he said.

"And?"

"Unless she wears men's compression shorts, I'd say she lied to me."

I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes in annoyance. If I'd had been there, she would have listened.

"I'll talk to her in a bit," I growled, nodding as a few of my men walked by, arms full of two-by-fours. Serg appeared, glaring at me and tapping his wrist.

"Gotta go, I'll be home by three. I have a sign language lesson," I said, just remembering. I hung up, striding to the restaurant and bar portion of the sprawling space. I wondered how much my father had spent for this front, especially considering the swanky location. Serg had been gone all morning, papering the town with flyers about the grand opening on Halloween. We'd yet to name the place, but he'd said it would only add to the mystery of the place, saying we'd unveil it that night. I'd rolled my eyes and walked away before I had the chance to hit him.

"You have a meeting with the chef, head bartender, and the DJ for the opening night, back to back," he said, walking alongside me.

"Send them up to my office when they get here, please," I said, eyeing the bar and seeing the top of Feliks' head.

Shuddering in anger, I turned back to Serg.

"Tell him if he steals anymore fucking booze, I will kick his ass so hard he will end up back in Russia," I hissed. He gave a devious smirk, sauntering off, saying our brother's name in a sing-song voice just to be the asshole he was.

The front entrance bell dinged as someone entered, and I was surprised to see the young woman from the coffee shop, blonde hair pulled back in a conservative ponytail, twisting her hands in apprehension like Aria did so often. I strode forward as my men stopped their work and gawked, some's eyes glistening at the beautiful, unaware prize that had stumbled into their web.

She grinned at me, offering a small wave of recognition as I paused before her.

"Here for that job?" I asked, smirking.