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I let him look over me for about three more seconds before I stepped back. “What’s going on? Who was that man?”
He hooked his fingers in my belt loops and pulled me to him. “His name is Solomon Graves. He used to be my Pops’ right hand, like how Marco is mine. He took a bid for the family with the agreement that his people would be taken care of. Long story short, my Pops didn’t hold up his end of the bargain, now he’s out and wants blood.”
“Was he behind Orlando’s shooting?”
“Yeah.”
“This some kind of gang war?”
“We’re not a gang, Belle.”
“Criminal organization,” I said with air quotes. “Should I be worried?”
“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
I crossed my arms. “That’s not what I asked.”
He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want you to be worried, because I need you to trust that I'm taking care of it. It’s why Marco is with you. It’s why I need you to let him do his job and not run into the deli by yourself.”
Solomon had made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t get the sense he’d physically hurt me. He wanted to make a point to Dez.
“Why haven’t you told me any of this? I thought we were done keeping shit from each other.”
Something moved across his face. “There’s more to it than what I just told you. Things with my pops, the High Table—some of that ties back to the wedding. I’m not putting you off, Belle. I’ve just been trying to manage it.”
“Dez, I’m going to be your wife. I can handle the bitchy old hags and the cocktail parties, but shouldn’t I know if someone’s trying to come for you?”
“Say that again,” he said.
“What? That I should know what I’m walking into?”
“Nah.” His arm wrapped around my waist. “The other thing.”
His cologne hit me as his mouth found my neck. That familiar expensive woodsy scent had become my obsession since the first time he got close to me.
“What other—” I lost my train of thought as his lips moved below my ear. “That I’m going to be your wife?”
“Mm.” The vibration of his voice against my skin sent a current straight to my pussy. “Again.”
“I’m not about to keep repeating myself—” My eyes rolled back as he bit down gently on the spot between my neck and shoulder. “We’re in your office.”
“And that one time we were in a storage room,” he said as he started tracing along the skin above my jeans. “Say it one more time, baby.”
“I’m going to be your wife.”
He smiled against my neck.
When he pulled away his eyes were dark and hungry. He reached around me and picked up the phone on his desk.
“Tell Marco he can head out,” he said. “And cancel whatever I have for the rest of the day.”
He hung up without waiting for confirmation and loosened his tie. He kept his eyes on mine. “You finally okay with becoming Mrs. Montague?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“You don’t.”
He kissed me roughly and lifted me onto his desk. Papers scattered and something hit the floor.
