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Eddie could not be late.
He already fucked up at the last meeting he attended. Made more enemies than the Munson family could handle.
What could he say? Eddie came into this world with a big mouth and a passion for getting the shit beat out of him. But if he didn’t show some good manners at tonight’s dinner, he would know the size of Wayne’s shoe.
So, of course, their new supplier decided to take off with half their shipment an hour before Eddie left. Usually, he wouldn’t mind getting his hands dirty, but why did the middlemen always turn greedy when he had shit to do?
Son of a bitch!
His car screeched in the driveway fifteen minutes before Eddie had to shake hands with the heads of the West Coast mob. He cursed at himself and his blood-stained clothes, then shot a look at the mansion he drove to in a hurry.
This place was huge. Fancier than his repair shop in the Bay Area. It had fountains and columns and everything. All the shit that the people on top loved to climb on to look down on the likes of Eddie.
A house like that must have a shower somewhere, he bet.
His break-in days came in handy when Eddie slipped through a window, passed the armed guards. The real struggle was to sneak into the first floor without staining the carpet. Goddamn rich people! But as he clicked his hip chain down to the marble floor of a gigantic bedroom Eddie couldn’t help a whistle.
The noise of staff down the hall reminded him to put his last ten minutes to better use than drooling on the sleek furniture.
Eddie skidded from his rags to the shower and let the motor oil and the blood drip down the drain. He covered everything under two thorough washes. Soaking himself in mint and sandalwood from head to toes.
The warm water worked wonders on his nerves. Eddie stepped out of the spa sized shower with less knots in his back and more grin on his face. Maybe he’d manage not to fuck up this one.
“You’re late.”
Eddie froze. His hair dripping down his naked shoulders. Drops rolled down his ink all the way to the smooth towel around his hips. His hand had frozen by his right side, where his gun always rested.
A real beauty. Handcrafted, with a red grip, and the final lines of Paranoid engraved on the steel of the barrel. It happened to fit gorgeously in the palm of the man who caught Eddie half naked.
His gaze traveled from his darling gun to the see-through shirt that the stranger was wearing. It highlighted his broad shoulders and allowed Eddie to count every mole on his skin. All the way to the most mouthwatering chest Eddie had seen in forever. The little gold ‘H’ hanging down his plunging neckline set off the ensemble in Eddie’s opinion, but what did he know about haute couture?
A plush fur stole rested inside the man’s elbows. Although not as soft as his voluminous hair looked. He strutted up to Eddie, his silk pants swishing at each slow step. He didn’t match the usual dress code of any of the families. He looked expensive beyond what Eddie could afford.
“You’re new.” Eddie retorted at gunpoint.
It was a bad time to realize it turned him on more than he imagined.
Eddie held the hazel gaze of the stranger until he could smell the heady scent of a perfume he couldn’t name. His captor eyed him up and down and for a fleeting moment Eddie could’ve disarmed him. Pin him against one of those floor-to-ceiling mirrors and press his weapon under his chin–
“What are you wearing tonight?” The stranger caught Eddie thinking too loudly about overpowering him.
His window closed, Eddie licked his lips and searched for the old suit he snatched from Wayne’s closet before rushing to the dinner.
The man in fur and silk took one glance at the pile, even faster than he ogled Eddie, and pinched his glossy lips.
“No.”
His voice oozed with the haughtiness of people used to get what they wanted. He made Eddie wish he’d put him back in his place when he had the chance.
“Dry your hair.” The man ordered.
He walked backwards to an immense closet, starring Eddie down.
“Comb it with a small dose of the green bottle by the sink first, and don’t use a towel.”
Eddie gritted his teeth as he complied, his anger nowhere near gone when the man’s commands turned his mop of curls into a somewhat decent sight.
His two minutes of respite under the hairdryer were ruined when he came back to the bedroom. He found his stylist/hairdresser twirling his gun around his index with surprising ease. Eddie’s sweetheart flipped back down then right back up at his chest and his towel threatened to fall like leaves in autumn.
“Get dressed.”
Eddie’s gun pointed at the dark suit and the matching black shirt laid down the bed for him. Shit! Even the shiny leather shoes looked like something that would suit him.
Eddie moved, but the man didn’t.
He stood right where he was, waiting for Eddie to give him a show worthy of his generous help. Entitled asshole. Eddie hated his smugness. He hated his gun in the man’s hand and the effect it had on him. He hated most of all that this eye candy was right. He did help.
“What’s your name?” Eddie blurted out, his voice hoarser than he would’ve liked.
He earned a charming smile for his question. The man bit down his lip, appreciating the blush he spread on Eddie’s cheeks.
“What do you want it to be?” He returned.
His turn of phrase hit Eddie as something he’d heard at the window of his car before. The impression lasted a blink before Eddie’s eyes fell between his soft pecs where the ‘H’ pendant glinted.
“Anything I can scream, sweetheart. But I’d like yours better.”
Eddie hooked his thumb at the hem of his towel, his desire to get into this pretty boy’s pants stronger than his pride.
The answer didn’t start how Eddie expected.
“Steve,” he said as he leaned back on a dresser. Confident beyond what was good for him.
Eddie’s towel hit the marble floor next.
He stuck out his chest covered with tattoos that crawled down to his thighs. Badges and souvenirs of everything he’d done to earn an invitation to the upcoming dinner. Steve’s gaze ran over his life story now completely laid out, but there was no mistake what he was looking for.
Eddie had been rock-hard for the better part of the last seven minutes. His cock stood up, glistening at the tip, red and throbbing, and – he’d been told – thicker than average.
Either he’d been lied to, or Steve had seen his fair share of dicks. Whatever it was earned Eddie a lift of eyebrows and half-lidded stare. Weren't you doing something? Steve reminded him with a jut of his chin.
Fuck.
Eddie grabbed the dress pants in a white knuckled grip. He glared at Steve every step of putting them on and only then the fucker smirked.
The wool felt divine on Eddie’s skin, it fitted him snuggly when he fastened his pants, making a point to snap his belt shut and show Steve that he wouldn’t get anything. Steve kept smiling as if he knew Eddie’s pants would come off if he so much as opened his mouth.
Eddie kept coming back to his mouth and the air sparked with thoughts of smeared lipstick and breathy moans.
It lingered as Eddie passed on a dress shirt and a matching jacket, then he caught his reflection in one of the mirror walls. Eddie loved to dress the part of the scary dog, it often saved time and broken bones. The patches and the ripped jeans were as much him as the tattoos. But Eddie wouldn’t mind being the man looking back at him once in a while.
The heat of Steve’s stare called him back, and Eddie saw satisfaction grace his features for the first time.
He was not returning these pants.
Steve crossed the distance between them, prowled towards Eddie, his hums almost purring. He took his time to judge how Eddie’s necklaces fell down his open collar, and arrange one strand of hair away from his eyes.
They were the same height, but the high heels Steve was wearing gave him a couple of extra inches over Eddie that drove him mad. He almost burst at the warm breath that grazed his skin when Steve sighed.
“Yeah, you’ll do.”
As a final touch, he shoved his precious gun down Eddie’s pants. Metal and leather rasped together until the cold barrel pressed down Eddie’s groin, the grip resting over his belt for him to take. But all Eddie let out was a groan.
His lips stayed apart in surprise, but he jumped in on pure instinct, his tongue reaching out for Steve’s glossy mouth when another voice called in:
“Steve?”
Before Eddie committed another crime tonight, Steve stepped back between him and the steps closing in.
“Over here.” Steve answered once at an innocent distance from Eddie.
The guy who just made it to the top of Eddie’s murder list had dirty blond hair. His curls better styled than Eddie’s own. He glared at Steve’s heels when he stood his 5ft10 next to him. Then his piercing blue eyes landed on Eddie and a shiver coursed through him like he figured everything out in a glance.
“Munson.” Billy grinded his name between his teeth.
He bit down a grin at the state of Eddie’s pants. Convinced by the lack of disheveled hair that he arrived right on time. Fuck!
Eddie forced his gaze away from Steve’s chest, but the ‘H’ shaped pendant left a permanent image on his retina. Hargrove!
Eddie should’ve seen it coming. The son of Neil Hargrove, top of the food chain of the L.A. underworld, never missed a chance to show up with a new bombshell at his arm. Not partners. Accessories.
He paraded them around in his vintage sports cars. Shoved his tongue in their ear in the middle of parties. Boasted about the state in which he returned them.
Right in front of him, Billy grabbed Steve’s waist like a shiny new ride and Eddie felt sick.
“Our guest had a little accident.” Steve went on as if Eddie had actually puked.
“Good thing Steve was there, huh?” Billy pulled his arm candy close in case Eddie needed a reminder that he didn’t share his toys.
That meant not only Steve already belonged to someone else, but if Eddie only thought of touching him, he was a dead man.
“I found him in an ice cream parlor. Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Billy pressed, unsubtle about how Eddie’s blue balls had made his fucking night.
When he was allowed to look, Eddie met an entirely new Steve. His lips stretched out in a beautiful shallow smile. There was nothing of his earlier sharpness. The man who reveled in the control he took back from Eddie, the person who stripped him down and made Eddie anew was gone.
Steve played his role to perfection. And Eddie knew at this moment that he would not. Now that he saw what Steve looked alive and playful, Eddie would rather wrestle with hatred and desire for him than let Steve fade away into this lifeless doll.
But Eddie needed to be smart about this. It was all about the game, and how you played it, right?
“Sure.” Eddie mumbled, keeping his jaws tight for the sake of letting Billy win this round.
When he followed them to the dining room, where the other families had started to gather, Eddie had never been so hungry.