Ranger - Jericho's Boys #4 - ch. 4 (Patreon)

So you're girls an idiot. I didn't even notice the first part of the chapter was missing. I'm telling you guys, I am getting senile. I am not feeling super confident about this chapter. There's a lot of characters in here. Hopefully its not super overwhelming. I'm excited to write their story but I find myself second-guessing along the way. If you enjoy it, I am shamelessly asking for positive reinforcement.Seven2 weeks, 3 days and 15 hours after their one night standThe moment Seven entered the apartment there was a target on his back. The group rarely met up at Levi & Nico’s place anymore. It was cramped quarters with Shiloh & Mal living there too. He should have known something was up when they’d asked if he wanted to come over to ‘watch a movie’, but he’d been in a weakened state. He didn’t bother knocking before he walked in. On his right, Nico, Levi and Mal were sitting on the beat up sofa, smug looks on their stupid faces. Well, two of their stupid faces. Mal just kind of…stared. He was often just…staring, usually at Nico. Nico was often staring back. He wished they’d just admit they were dating. They were both too fucking weird for anyone else anyway. Movement in the kitchen snagged his attention. Shiloh stood there watching the microwave countdown like it was a ticking time bomb. When he caught Seven’s eye, he wiggled his fingers with a smile. He was way too good for Levi, but just damaged enough to understand him. “I heard you were having dinner with my boss tonight,” Levi said, voice filled with mock innocence. Seven pulled a face, then gave him the finger as Shiloh entered the small space with a huge bowl of popcorn. “Want some?” he asked, tipping the bowl in his direction. Seven was about to refuse when Nico started making grabby hands at the bowl. “Sure.” He plucked the bowl from Shiloh’s fingers then sank to the floor making sure he was just out of reach of the others. If they were gonna be assholes, they could starve. Shiloh shrugged and dropped down into Levi’s lap, looping his arms around his neck. “So…” Nico prompted, poking Seven’s calf with his bare foot. He heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Oh, we’re definitely gonna talk about it,” Ever said, emerging from the bathroom. Seven instantly softened when he saw the boy. He was only a few years younger than them—well, as far as they knew—but everyone spoiled him rotten. Spending most of his life in a closet, everything was always knew and exciting. And no, that wasn’t a metaphor. Ever had been kept in a closet for years with no identity and no name. He’d named himself. Ever looked adorable in a bubble gum pink Barbie crop top the same color as his hair and a pair of baggy jeans. Seven could just see his socks peeking out. They were blue and had waffles on them. Fuck, he was so cute. God, you’re so fucking cute.That’s what Enzo had said to him that night. He fought an involuntary shiver. He made an angry noise instantly regretting as Ever’s face fell. Seven shook his head rapidly. “That wasn’t directed at you.” He looked to the others, pointing his thumb in Ever’s direction. “Who let the baby out unsupervised?” To Ever, he asked, “Where’s your fiance?” “He volunteered to pick up the pizza. Fucking, losers wanted us to pay nine dollars for delivery plus a fifteen percent tip. What are we? Made of money?” Nico asked, sounding like an old man. Mal just continued to gaze at him like he invented the internet or something. “Stop trying to distract us,” Levi said. “It's not happening. What chain of events had to occur for you to be having dinner with your late-night hookup?” Exactly. That is what he’d like to know. He hadn’t been invited to dinner so much as summoned. It wasn’t a request. Ever collapsed, sitting cross-legged beside him. Seven took the opportunity, abandoning the vat of popcorn on the floor to plop his head into Ever’s lap. The boy giggled, then smooshed Seven’s cheeks. When Ever relinquished his face, Seven waved his hands in the air. “I-It’s…complicated.” “We’ve got time,” Ever said, his sweet smile upside down. Seven couldn’t get mad at Ever. Nobody got mad at Ever, like…well, ever. “Is it really that weird? We do work togther?” Maybe they’d leave it at that.” “No, its still really fucking weird,” Shiloh said. “Actually, that makes it even weirder.” Or maybe not. “Fine,” Seven huffed, then blew out an angry breath through his nose. “His mom…” He closed his eyes. He was never living this shit down. “His mom…called my mom.” Ever gasped. “Like an arranged marriage?” Shiloh asked, trying to hold back his laughter. Seven whined. “Don’t even joke about that. You think I’d marry that douchebag?” “Tomorrow,” Nico said. “Before he even finished popping the question,” Levi added. “You guys suck,” Seven shot back, sulking. “Stop teasing him,” Ever chastised. Seven gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.” “I’m sure its stressful meeting your future in-laws,” Ever added, making them all laugh. All but Seven. The sad part was, before the contract fiasco, he had managed his expectations fine. Okay, not fine exactly. But he knew seeing Enzo again probably wouldn’t happen again and, if it did, it would end up being another hookup. He was fine with that. Enzo had rocked his fucking world that night. He’d have probably done almost anything to have a round two. Until the dickhead had to go and ruin it by saying the quiet part out loud. It was one thing to know someone saw you as nothing more than a convenient dick appointment. It was another entirely to have that someone ask you to put it in writing. “Et tu, Ever?” Seven muttered. “Sorry,” Ever chirped, not sounding sorry at all. “Seriously, though. Why does Mama Conti want you to come to dinner…with your mom?” Nico asked. “She’s just torturing Enzo,” Seven said. “She thinks he needs to be humbled.” “By you?” Levi asked. Seven narrowed his eyes at his friend from Ever’s lap. “That feels like an insult but I don’t know why.” Levi rolled his eyes. “I just mean its weird, no? Like…she got you this job so he had to look at you every day. Now she’s inviting you to Sunday dinners with your mom. That just seems like more than teaching her slutty son a lesson.” “You know the woman better than I do. When she got me the job she just told me not to go easy on him and if I decided he was worthy of my time that I shouldn’t take him back until I…” Seven’s ears burned. “Until you…” “‘Walked him like a dog’,” Seven muttered. “Her words.” “Damn. How much of a player do you have to be when you’re own mother thinks you’re an asshole?” Nico mused out loud. A knife twisted in Seven’s chest. “The coward probably won’t even show up.” “What do you mean?” Nico asked. “You said he’s been following you all over the office.” He had said that. At first Seven had just thought it was a small office, but then it just kept happening. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking on Seven’s part. But what the hell was he wishing for? He refused to be paid for sex.“Wait, really?” Ever said, a terrifying smile spread across his face. “Dish.” “Shiloh is a bad influence on you,” Seven said, wagging his finger. Said bad influence stuck his tongue out at him. “Not, like, actually following me,” Seven said. “At least, I don’t think so. He’s just…always there. If I need to make a copy, suddenly so does he. If I’m getting coffee, there he is again. If I go to lunch with the other interns, he shows up at the same restaurant with one of his clients.”“So he’s…stalking you?” Levi asked, sounding slightly less amused. Seven groaned, kicking his feet dramatically. “I don’t know. The other day I had to skip lunch and when I came back from the bathroom, there was a protein shake on my desk. Yesterday when I mentioned my phone charger broke, there was another one on my desk when I came back from lunch.” “He’s a considerate stalker,” Levi corrected. “Oh, my God. He’s courting you,” Nico cried, clasping his hands together like he was fucking Snow White or something. “That’s definitely not what he’s doing,” Seven said, face heating up and some unseen force clutching his heart in their fist. Nico looked at Mal. “It’s like the red-sided garter snake, right?” Mal nodded solemnly. “What are you two babbling about?” he said, mood souring by the minute. “The red-sided garter snake leaves protein for its potential mate,” Nico said, acting like that was something swoonworthy. “Oh,” Ever said, getting swept up in Nico’s fantasy. “And penguins leave shiny pebbles for theirs,” Ever said. Seven shook his head adamantly. “No.” “What else could it be?” Shiloh asked. “I don’t know but—” he floundered for a minute. “—not…that.” “Maybe it’s an apology?” Shiloh said. “For what? Propositioning me?” Seven asked. “I already told him it wasn’t a big deal. The more he bugs me, the more it pisses me off that he tried to make me his sugar baby in the first place. I’d feel better if he just…left me alone.” Levi snorted. “Liar.” “He feels bad,” Mal said, his voice as monotone as always. “What?” Seven asked. “How do you know that?” Mal shrugged. “We’re…friends? I guess. He was my attorney, remember? That’s how you met.” “Oh, yeah,” Seven said. He hadn’t forgotten exactly, more like he just put it out of his mind. “This is low-key your fault.” Mal blinked at him. “When I had lunch with him last week, he wouldn’t stop grilling me about you.” “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Nico asked, looking hurt. Mal shrugged. “What’d he ask?” Nico pressed. “Be specific.” Mal heaved a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment before saying, “‘How is he? Is he eating? Is he sleeping? Is he getting to school okay? Did he say anything about me? Does it seem like he hates me? Is he dating anyone?’”Why would Enzo be grilling Mal about Seven? What did he want from him? Besides the obvious. “What did you say?” Seven asked Mal, feeling like someone had kicked him in the solar plexus. “That I barely know you?” Mal said as if the answer should be obvious. “Oh, right…” Seven said, deflating. Ever gave him a sympathetic look, petting him like a cat. “Why didn’t you accept his offer?” Mal asked, suddenly.There was no judgment. There was no anything, really. It was like he was just satisfying his own morbid curiosity. Or maybe Enzo had asked him that too.“Why didn’t I agree to let him put me through college in exchange for being at his beck and call?” Seven asked like the answer was obvious. Wasn’t it? “You did say the sex was, like, life-changing,” Shiloh reminded him. “Mind-blowing sex and not having to work some lame part-time job sounds like a pretty good deal.” When Levi hooked a brow at his boyfriend, he hastily added, “For you, I mean…obviously.” “I’m sure that’s not what I said,” Seven said, rolling his eyes. “No, that’s exactly what you said,” Levi said. “You were drunk on Jericho’s couch during movie night and very proudly told all of us that he’d made you come so hard you could now…what was it?” “Speak Italian,” Ever said, then giggled. “That’s right.”  “Damn, nobody has ever made me come so hard I learned another language,” Nico said. “That would have been handy for my language credit.” “Is that why you can speak Russian now, Ever?” Shiloh teased. Ever blinked at him, expression guileless. “No, I take classes twice a week.” Levi and Nico snorted. “Even so,” Seven said, dragging the attention back to himself. “That doesn’t mean I want to be his paid whore.” Mal shrugged, looking bored. “If I had to be a whore, paid is better than not paid…right?” he looked at Nico for confirmation. “Law school’s expensive.”Nico flushed. “Why are you asking me? Are you calling me a whore?” Mal’s eyes went wide, shaking his head rapidly, cheeks flushing. “What? No? I-” Nico was the only person who could pull that reaction from Shiloh’s brother like that. “I mean, if the stiletto fits,” Levi muttered, pulling a face at his best friend. “Eat my whole ass,” Nico shot back. “Before you met gumdrop there, you had more passengers than a New York City subway train.” Ever gasped, covering his mouth with his hand, looking at Levi with wide eyes. “Really?” “He’s exaggerating,” Levi muttered, looking at Shiloh who was now studying him like a bug under a microscope. When the laughter died down, Mal looked at Seven. “Would you do it for free?” “I-I honestly don’t know…” he admitted. “Calling a guy Daddy and being a contracted submissive are way different. I’ve read up on it a little, but I don’t really know, well, anything really. It seems really fucking intense.” “Doesn’t his brother own a sex club?” Levi asked. “Maybe talk to him?” Seven gawked at him like he’d grown a second head. “You think I should ask Enzo’s brother about being a submissive?” “You are having dinner with him tonight?” Shiloh said. “And our parents,” Seven fired back. Ask Enzo’s brother about being a submissive? That was fucking insane. That was weird. Wasn’t it? Did Seven even want to know what went into it? Would it matter? Would Seven ever want to play like that with someone else? He had liked the power exchange. Not having to think…being told what to do. He’d been floating on the ceiling by the time it was over. Nico had called it sub-space. Seven had tried to look it up but then he remembered there really was no point. Maybe that would have been part of Enzo’s ‘training program’. What the fuck had that even meant? Training him. That had bothered him more than anything. Had he not done a good enough job that night? Why had he even wanted a repeat if he wasn’t what Enzo wanted? Mal shrugged. “I’m just saying, you seem to have questions and, in a couple of hours, you’ll have access to someone who sounds like an expert.” Seven sighed. “I’ll…think about it.###“It’s not too late to run, mama,” Seven muttered under his breath, standing outside the Conti’s enormous Tuscan style mansion. Seven’s mother gave him ‘the look’. The one that told him not to push his luck. He huffed, scooting closer to her, preparing to use her as protection, if necessary. When he looked at her again, she was shaking her head like he was being ridiculous. Of course, she would think he was ridiculous. She’d helped sell him out. What could Francesca Conti have said to his mother to get her to go along with this? He knew the woman was persuasive but…his mother wasn’t exactly someone who was easily swayed. In any direction. Except when it came to his low-life father. Seven sighed inwardly, then looked down at his fitted black cargo pants and cream colored pullover, plucking an imaginary piece of lint from the fabric. If not for Felix, Seven would have arrived in his version of casual, his usual jeans and hoodie combo. Both his mother and Felix had balked at this idea. When his friend had heard he would be interning at one of the biggest law firms in the country, he’d sent over an entire new wardrobe, free of charge, because that was just the type of person Felix was. It wasn’t that Seven didn’t know how to dress himself when it mattered. He just didn’t have a lot of money to throw at things like fancy clothes. He had to help his mother with rent. He had to cover all the school expenses his grants didn’t. Maybe he should have just agreed to be Enzo’s temporary bed-warmer. His insides curdled at the thought. It wasn’t the sex. It wasn’t even really the money…though that did make him feel some type of way. It was how easily Enzo had used words like ‘trained’ and ‘submissive’. How he’d basically told him to have zero expectations. Seven had spent most of his life expecting nothing from a man who was supposed to care for him. He loved his mother more than anything in the world, but he refused to become her, waiting on someone who thought of him as nothing but a placeholder. He’d watched his father drain the happiness out of his mother for too long, leaving her a shell of herself. He glanced over at her. Despite everything, his mother looked effortlessly chic. Felix had offered to dress her, but his mother had refused. She found her pleasure in taking thrift store finds and turning them into one of a kind pieces, just like what she wore now. Her off-the-shoulder black silk blouse showed off her golden skin, the pleated balloon pants she wore would have looked ridiculous on ninety percent of the population, but not her. Her black hair was cut into blunt bangs and a razor sharp bob that rested just past her perfect jawline, accentuated by her dangly gold earrings. She’d finished her look with tons of gold bracelets, three necklaces and a scorpion ring that showed off her long, slender fingers. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even after all she’d been through. “You’re staring,” she said as she reached up to ring the doorbell. “Sorry,” Seven said. “You just look really pretty, mama.” She bumped her shoulder into his. “Thank you, habibi.” Francesca Conti chose that moment to fling open both of the double doors before them, clapping her hands together with delight when she saw them. “You’re here,” she cried, as if they were old friends. “Francesca,” his mother said, stepping into the foyer. The two women embraced, exchanging cheek kisses. Mama Conti held his mother at arms length. “You always look stunning.” Always? Did they…actually know each other. “Says you,” his mother countered. “I love that dress.” Francesca looked down at her white shirt dress. “It has pockets,” she said, then demonstrated this by shoving her hands into said pockets and twirling. “I found it at that vintage shop on Everly Street. The one with all the Jimmy Choo in the window.” “Oh, I love that place,” his mother said. “We should go together when we both have a day off,” Mama Conti said. His mother nodded, giving a genuine smile. “We could do lunch, too.” “It’s a date,” Mama said, as a man joined them. “Oh, there you are, amore mio.” The man had an expensive haircut, whiskey colored eyes and a black beard with two stripes of silver on either side of his mouth. He was, objectively speaking, smoking hot. “This is my husband, Dario,” she said, snuggling into his side. “These are the two I was telling you about. This is Seven and his mother, Neith. Aren’t they beautiful?” Husband? He didn’t look much older than Seven’s mom. And while Francesca was far from old, she was most definitely a decade older than his mother and, apparently, from her own husband. Or maybe he just looked young for his age. Either way, Seven bet it was Dario who was the lucky one. “Welcome to the chaos,” Dario said by way of greeting, sweeping his arm grandly towards the noise in the distance. “Most everyone is already here, but we’ll try not to overwhelm you.” He looked at his wife. “Right?” Mama laughed her bell-like laugh then waved him off like he was silly. That was when Seven remembered he was holding a bottle of wine. He thrust it towards Dario who took it with a nod and a blinding smile. Seven felt like he’d fallen into some kind of chick flick where everyone was hot and cultured. Once inside, Seven’s stomach growled as he was hit full force with the scents of olive oil and garlic. Fuck, he was starving but far too nervous to eat. Stupid fucking Enzo. If Seven hadn’t had to worry about him, he could enjoy what he was sure would be a feast. They only made it a few steps when another beautiful man emerged from a heavy wooden door with a rounded top. He carried several bottles of wine under each arm. He stopped short when he saw them. Well, more specifically when he saw his mother. Seven moved closer to her instinctively while the man stared like he’d been turned to stone. “Goodness, Rocco. Close your mouth. People are going to think you just got out of prison,” Mama said, shaking her head. “This is Seven, and his mother, Neith. This is my brother, Rocco. Sometimes he forgets how to be a human.” Dario snorted, taking some of the bottles from Rocco before disappearing further into the house with a shake of his head. Rocco seemed to collect himself. “Nice, uh, nice to meet you,” he said, once more, leaning in to kiss Neith’s cheeks, before giving Seven a handshake that morphed into a one-armed bro hug. Mama watched with amusement. Once Rocco moved on with one last lingering look at Seven’s mother, Mama said, “It’s such a gorgeous night. I figured we’d have dinner on the terrace.” “Sounds amazing,” his mother said. They heard the kitchen before they reached it. The din of pots and pans and people shouting about having hot plates, just like at a restaurant. Once they were standing near the wide open kitchen, Seven realized it was bigger than the restaurants. Two men and four girls all moved around with such grace it appeared almost choreographed. “Everyone,” Mama Conti called, bringing the whole operation to a halt. They all turned to stare at them with various expressions ranging from feral curiosity to barely restrained amusement. The two men appeared to be in their thirties, like many of the others, they had dark hair, dark eyes and facial hair that Seven could only dream of attaining someday. They were tall and broad, with grins just as wide. The four girls also looked similar, but one looked familiar.“I know you,” she said, seeming to recognize him just as he did her. “My brother brought you to the restaurant and pissed you off.” “Language, Carlotta,” Mama reprimanded, with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. She turned to a gorgeous girl with long chestnut hair. “This is my oldest, Allegra. She’s in her third year at Strawbridge. You and Seven go to the same school,” she said conversationally. Allegra smiled. “Law school, right?” How did she know that? “Yeah…have we met before?” Seven asked. She gave him a slow smile. “No, you’re just a really hot topic around here.” “Oh,” Seven managed, his pulse tripping at the implication. “Allegra,” Mama admonished, her tone sharp with warning. “And these are the triplets. They’re in their last year of high school at Vanguard. Carlotta, Carmilla and Claudia,” she said, pointing at each in turn. Carli rolled her eyes, looking exactly like her mother, then pointed to herself. “Carli.” Then Carmilla. “Karma.” Then Claudia. “Claude.” “Got it,” Seven said, with an affirmative nod, almost positive he didn’t have it at all. “And the two sous chef’s are my middles, Rafa and Gio. Say hello, boys.” They both waved in tandem, then turned back to their duties when prodded by Allegra. “Come, come,” Mama said, wrapping her arms around both Seven and his mother’s waists and ushering them further into the house. She led them to a…parlor of some sort? It wasn’t a living room or even a family room but some kind of…game room? The kitchen was still fully visible, as was the terrace. It appeared that there were usually some kind of sliding glass doors that enclosed the enormous space but they had been pushed back so that the house just spilled onto the patio. Outside, there was a sparkling blue pool surrounded by rocks, a waterfall and even a slide. Beside it was the biggest table Enzo had ever seen. Inside there were several comfortable looking sofas and chairs as well as a pool table, a row of arcade games and a huge flat screen television so large it had to be custom made. Two boys who didn’t look much younger than the triplets sat side by side, phones clutched in their hands, clearly in a heated battle of some kind, shouting and scream-laughing at each other. One had red hair and the other blonde. Both were beautiful, neither looked like anyone else in the room. “These are my baby’s,” Mama said proudly, when she saw Seven’s dubious expression, she chuckled. “I know. I know. They don’t look a thing like the rest of us. They decided to go way back in the genetics closet. They look like Dario’s great-grandfather who came from Aosta Valley,” she said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did to anyone who understood geography. Seven had failed that subject…twice. Once in sixth grade, then again in eighth, just for funsies. Mama pointed to the redheaded boy with his floppy hair and freckles. “Ansel.” And then the blue-eyed blonde. “Elio.” The two glanced up just long enough to say, “Hey,” and “What’s up?” But then we were right back into their battle. “Ten minutes, boys. Then you need to finish helping your sister’s in the kitchen,” she warned. There was some grumbling, but they didn’t put up much of a fight. Seven didn’t blame them. He knew better than to argue with his mother, too. “Hey, ma,” somebody shouted from deep within the house. Another tall man with broad shoulders appeared from somewhere within the bowels of the large house, sweeping his mother into a hug. “Did you make me tiramisu cheesecake?” “Dante, don’t be rude,” Mama said. “At least say hello to our guests.” He gave a friendly wave as Mama made the introductions for the hundredth time since they’d arrived despite it feeling very much like everyone knew who they were. Seven waved back. His mother looked at Mama in wonder. “Is every member of your family as gorgeous as you?” Mama flushed. “You’re one to talk. You and your son put the rest of us to shame.” Seven fought the urge to roll his eyes, fearing he’d get smacked from two women who were probably expert-level hitters. Seven stood there, zoning out while they made small talk, scanning the room for something…no, someone. But he refused to admit it. Even to himself. He’d only made it halfway around the room when he did see someone he recognized. The cop. Lucky. It was only when his gaze fell on him that he realized Lucky had already been watching him. When they made eye contact the other man smirked, then raised his beer in a mock salute. Seven returned the gesture, then turned away. As the conversation swirled around him, he learned that the oldest son wouldn’t be in attendance due to a conflicting engagement and that another would be arriving later. Was it Enzo? Would he show up? He wanted to know so badly. The question sat, burning a hole on the tip of his tongue, but he refused to give the man the satisfaction. Even if he gave himself an ulcer worrying about it. Before Seven could spiral too far down the rabbit hole of bitterness, dinner was announced. He took his assigned seat, his mother on his right and Carli on his left. The conversation seemed to swirl effortlessly with Seven answering everyone’s benign questions politely, his wine glass helping to loosen his tongue. The Conti family were easy to love. They were warm and friendly and seemed to ask their questions from general curiosity and not out of a sense of decorum. The siblings traded insults, volleying them back and forth as easily as the many dishes on the table. The air was cool but not cold, the breeze making everything feel a little like being on vacation. But there was still no Enzo. Seven hated that he cared. But there wasn’t only one empty chair, there were two. Vince was also missing. Were they both running late or was one of them not coming? Seven was almost as curious about Vince as he was about Enzo. What kind of person ran a sex club? “Sorry we’re late,” someone shouted over the din, earning a cheer from the family. Seven’s head whipped around so fast he heard his neck crack. His heart rate took off at a dead run. There he was. The bane of his existence. Enzo. Why did he have to be so hot? Seven jumped as his fork fell from his shaky hands to clatter onto his plate. He winced, his face catching fire as he saw other’s give him amused looks, like they knew exactly why his fingers were suddenly clumsy. It wasn’t Enzo who spoke, it was the man standing beside him. It had to be Vince. The club owner. The one his friends all thought he should talk to. Seven stared at the two open seats, one directly across from him and the other several seats down on the opposite side of the table. Mama made introductions quickly, guiding people like a five-star general. Seven breathed a sigh of relief when she commanded Vince to sit in the seat across from him. It was only when the other man gave him a polite smile that he realized that Vince and Gio were identical twins. Damn. Enzo was sort of hovering near the table when his mother said, “Carlotta, let your brother sit there.” Seven felt like he’d swallowed a hand grenade, his food threatening to make a reappearance. Enzo looked equally startled, locking eyes with Seven. Fuck. Why did he have to look so fucking good all the time? He wasn’t even dressed up. He wore white pants that moulded perfectly to his ass and thighs and a black polo shirt that—if Seven was being honest—was offensively tight. Was the man shopping in the children’s section?Carlotta—Carli—looked back and forth between Seven and Enzo, then picked up her plate, using it to gesture grandly at the chair. “I wouldn’t want to come between my brother and his betrothed,” she said wistfully. “Carlotta,” Mama warned, giving her daughter a look of reproach, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. As Carli passed her brother, he muttered something to her and her cackle echoed throughout the terrace. Seven watched Enzo approach from the corner of his eye, doing his best to not to look at him, lest he be turned to stone. Unfortunately, not making eye contact with Enzo left him only two options, stare at his plate or stare at Vince. He chose option two. Yet when he risked a glance at the club owner, he found—just like Lucky—the other man was already watching him, his amusement evident. Seven dropped his gaze but could see his mother smiling in Enzo’s direction as he approached. If it turned out his mother secretly somehow knew Enzo too, Seven was going to yeet himself into the sun…or maybe the swimming pool. Annoying Enzo wasn’t worth this level of anxiety. Seven’s breath hitched painfully as Enzo finally sank into Carli’s abandoned seat, his shoulder pressing against Seven’s, invading his space. Why did he have to be so…big? “Hey,” Enzo murmured. “Hi,” Seven mumbled back. When they both reached for the red wine in front of them, Seven pulled his fingers back like he’d been burned. “Go ahead,” Enzo said, gesturing to the bottle.“No, it’s fine,” Seven said, shaking his head a little too adamantly. Enzo sighed, then picked up the bottle. He filled Seven’s glass first, then his own. Seven mentally rolled his eyes. Who said chivalry was dead? Enzo was about to place the bottle back on the table, when Seven’s mother honed in on it, offering her own glass and a blinding smile. “Would you mind?” she asked, leaning forward around her son to make eye contact with Enzo. Seven’s stomach roiled as Enzo’s brows went up and he locked in on his mother. It felt like someone was tap-dancing on his insides. He really didn’t want to puke up all the pasta he’d forced himself to choke down in an attempt to look unbothered. He watched, his mouth a flat line, as his mother laughed at something Enzo said and Enzo laughed back. It couldn’t have been that funny. After he refilled her glass, they toasted right over Seven’s Osso Buco. “You must be Enzo,” she finally said. “I’ve heard so much about you.” “That’s terrifying,” Enzo countered with a laugh, easy breezy. “Anything my mother tells you is probably an exaggeration.” This time Seven did roll his eyes. So witty. Huh-huh-huh.He heard Vince snort and glanced up to find him still observing him.“You must be…” Enzo prompted, still ignoring Seven to flirt openly with his-“She’s my mother, you idiot. Who else would it be? We look exactly alike,” Seven snarked quietly. He yelped as his mother twisted his ear and tsk’d. “Where are your manners, habibi? Don’t embarrass me.” Seven huffed like a petulant child, then muttered, “Enzo, this is my mother, Neith. Mama, this is my…Enzo.”Enzo seemed to choke on his own spit, wheezing, “Your Enzo…” “That’s not what I meant,” Seven whispered, nudging him aggressively with his knee. When Enzo recovered from Seven’s alarming decree of ownership, he looked over him once more. “You’re his mother?” Enzo said. “You don’t look old enough to have a son his age.” His mother laughed. “I get that all the time. Excellent genetics.” “I’ll say.” ‘I’ll say’ Seven mouthed, making a face that only Vince noticed. The other man gave a barely there chuckle, shaking his head. Seven was pretty sure Enzo was closer to his mother’s age then his own. Was that why they were making cow eyes at each other? Were they flirting right there in front of God and everyone? Seven picked up his wine glass, downing it in one go as Enzo and his mother made small talk over his head like he wasn’t even there. “What do you do?” he heard Enzo ask. Before his mother could answer, Seven said, “ She just got a promotion. She’s the new finance director at her job.” “Oh, wow. Congratulations,” Enzo said. Seven rolled his eyes at the sincerity in his voice. His mother beamed, clasping her hands together with a bright smile. “Thank you. I love my job. I know people say that, but I really do. I’ve worked there since Seven was a baby.” Mama broke into the conversation. “That’s how Neith and I know each other,” she told them all. “She works with a non-profit called the Women’s Empowerment & Reentry Center. WERC for short. They help women in less than ideal circumstances get back on their feet by offering jobs, clothing for interviews, things like that.” “It’s true,” Seven’s mother said, nodding. “Francesca has helped me with fundraising events many times. We’re so grateful for everything you’ve done for us.” “It’s nothing,” Mama said. “I only wish I could do more.” She looked at her oldest daughter, brushing a hand over the girl’s long dark hair. “My Allegra is very passionate about social work. Neith has offered to let her shadow her during her school break.” Did all mother’s network like this? A sneak peek at Enzo told Seven he seemed just as surprised that their mothers were so well-acquainted. The conversation continued on, but Seven couldn’t concentrate at all. Enzo was practically sitting in his lap, their bodies touching from shoulder to thigh, the heat of his body soaking through Seven’s clothing directly into his core. He only tuned back in when he saw Vince pick up the wine and use it to fill Seven’s glass once more. Seven picked it up and tipped it in mock salute before downing it in one large gulp. “So Seven,” Allegra said, grabbing his attention from the alcohol burning its way down his esophagus. “What’s it like working for my annoying ass brother?” “For?” Seven echoed stupidly. “With,” Enzo corrected, quick enough for the others to look amused. “He works with me. Well, not with me. In the same office as me. Across the hall, actually. He’s in cybercrimes. With-With Owen. I’m in-you know what I’m in. We don’t interact that much at all…” he finished lamely. “Smooth,” Seven muttered under his breath. The entire table was silent, then the younger siblings tittered at their brother’s babble. Vince was smirking at him as well. “Wow,” Carli said. “I’ve never seen my brother dork out this bad over someone before. Wild.” When Seven’s gaze randomly landed on Lucky, he was watching Seven like he thought he might steal their good silver. “Carmilla,” Mama said, exasperated. “What?” Karma cried. “Everyone knows why you invited them over. You’re expanding the family in the gayest way possible. Literally. We’re all onto your scheming, ma. We won’t give you grandchildren so your just…recruiting.” Mama smiled ruefully over her glass, making eyes at Seven’s mother before she said, “I have no idea what you mean,” voice smacking with insincerity. “Seven’s way too good for Enzo,” Ansel said around a mouthful of pasta. Thanks, kid.There were murmurs of agreement from around the table. Seven was a little too buzzed to absorb everything happening around him. He was getting high off of Enzo’s cologne. It was the same one he’d worn the day they met in his office. The first time he’d called him a good boy. It was muddling Seven’s thinking. “We should set him up with Dom. Don’t you think, Uncle Rocco?” Karma asked. Seven felt like he was moving in slow motion as he turned to look at Uncle Rocco. Rocco was not looking at Seven. He was looking at Seven’s mother. When he noticed all eyes on him, he flushed, clearing his throat, then ducking his head sheepishly. “Uh, what was that?” Rocco asked. Karma giggled. “Wouldn’t Dom and Seven be cute together?” “Dom is a career criminal,” Enzo muttered. “Seven’s in law school. It’s hardly a match made in heaven.” “Oh, I don’t know. Sounds downright convenient to me,” Rafa said, clinking his glass with Dante’s. “Seven isn’t dating any of you,” Enzo snapped, picking up his wine glass and taking a large swig before leaning back to glower at his family. “He’s…busy. Law school is too high stakes for that shit.” Was he…sulking?“Stop teasing your brother,” Mama said, pointing her finger around the table at her children. “He’s a grown man, ma,” Dante said. “It’s not our fault he’s a giant man-baby. You coddled him too much. That’s why he’s sitting over there pouting like a petulant child because he thinks you want to take away his new favorite toy.” Was Seven the toy in question? He glanced at Enzo, then regretted it. The scowl on his face sent heat zipping through his lower body. Or maybe it was the wine. He shouldn’t have worn something this heavy. Seven didn’t know what that meant but he was too hot. Maybe he shouldn’t have worn a sweater. There was a nip in the air but the alcohol had closed the gap really quickly. “Excuse me,” he said suddenly, lurching to his feet and startling half the table. “I’m just gonna, uh, use the…” he pointed vaguely towards the house. He couldn’t escape without moving his chair, but when he tried, it caught on the terrazzo tile, almost catapulting Seven directly into Enzo’s lap. He shot a hand out to steady Seven, but immediately pulled it back when Seven glowered at him. He could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up his neck as Enzo stood and pulled the chair back so Seven could make his escape. Once he was back inside the house, he just kept walking. He had no idea where the bathroom was…or anything else for that matter. He was tempted to walk right out the front door and keep walking. But he couldn’t. Even if he did manage to make it back home, his mother would murder him for abandoning her. Though she seemed to be having a fine old time, selling him to the Conti’s. He weaved his way further and further into the house until he realized he was well and truly lost. He leaned against the wall, body overheated and thoughts softening at the edges. He had to get out of there. He jolted from the wall, hurrying back the way he came.  He rounded the corner and walked right into a wall. His hands shot out, landing on muscle. Not a wall. Enzo. He stumbled back, gasping when Enzo caught him around the waist and hauled him in, pressing their bodies together. It took longer than it should have for Seven to realize he wasn’t embracing him in a romantic way, but keeping him from falling on his ass. Seven huffed, slapping at Enzo’s chest weakly. When Enzo didn’t move, Seven risked a glance up at him and immediately regretted it. It was just like that night. Seven tried to will himself to push away but he was rooted to the spot, staring up at Enzo’s chocolate brown eyes, his heart in his throat, a swarm of bees in his belly. He held his breath, letting out a small gasp when Enzo’s gaze dropped to his lips.“Fuck,” Enzo muttered, a moment before Seven found himself swept into an alcove, a wooden door at his back. He closed the distance between them, one thick thigh between Seven’s legs, his head dipping to rasp, “You’re driving me crazy.” Seven’s heartbeat thumped like a bass drum against his ribs, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe. His world had shrunk down to Enzo, Enzo, Enzo. His eyelids fluttered, his fingers digging into powerful biceps as his head swam. Was it the wine or Enzo’s cologne? Seven wanted to bury his face against his chest, wanted Enzo to crush him in his arms and carry him to bed like he’d done the other night. He wanted to feel his weight pinning him to the mattress. He wanted to feel his lips. He’d never felt so dizzy and overwhelmed just from someone’s presence. “What are you doing?” Seven mumbled, head thudding against the wall just so he could continue to look at him. That proved to be a mistake. All it did was bring their mouths even closer. Seven’s chest burned aching to close the distance between them. “I came to check on you,” Enzo said, voice wrapping around him like a weighted blanket. “What do you care?” Seven asked, closing his eyes against the heat and the hunger in Enzo’s eyes. Seven’s breath hitched as Enzo’s nose brushed his throat. “Fuck, I miss the way you smell,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t realize he was speaking out loud. Seven stood there, shaking, afraid to breathe and shatter whatever fragile ceasefire they had happening. Enzo inhaled deeply, a low rumble leaving his chest. “I cannot get enough of you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Seven blamed the red wine for loosening his tongue enough for him to whisper, “I miss yours, too.” “Yeah?” He sounded so hopeful. What the fuck were they doing? They barely knew each other. They’d spent one night together. Now they were wrapped around each other, clinging like they’d been apart for years. But…it felt that heavy. When his friends inevitably asked what happened, Seven would blame it on the wine. But the truth was, pressed against the wall, Enzo’s thigh between his, his arms holding Seven tight…he didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want him to stop. Seven missed his lips. His touch. The way his head went quiet when Enzo took control. Maybe that’s why it just felt so natural to crash their lips together. Unlike their first kiss, there was nothing hesitant about it. Seven clutched at Enzo’s shirt, as he thrust his tongue past Seven’s lips. Enzo tasted like tart red wine and Seven moaned as he sucked it off his tongue. Enzo’s hands abandoned his waist to hold his face, moving him as he liked as he plundered his mouth like Seven belonged to him. Enzo flexed his thigh right against Seven’s now half-hard cock, then swallowed the high-pitched whimper that escaped. “Let me take you home,” Enzo whispered into his mouth. “I can’t. We can’t,” Seven panted, before fucking his tongue back into Enzo’s mouth. Enzo gripped his hips, dragging him down onto his thigh as he pressed forward, dragging another low throaty noise from him.Enzo huffed out a breath through his nose, abandoning Seven’s lips to drag his mouth along the length of his neck, his beard scratching in a way that had Seven’s eyes rolling in pleasure. Seven bit his bottom lip to fight back the sounds threatening to escape as Enzo rasped, “God you’re already hard for-” The sound of someone loudly clearing their throat, fractured the illusion like a hammer through a mirror. Seven shoved Enzo off of him, the tips of his ears on fire as he dragged in ragged breaths, trying to smooth out his clothing. Vince. He studied the two of them with interest, particularly his brother. Enzo didn’t attempt to hide his hostility over the interruption. Vince was unfazed. “Ma’s looking for you.” Enzo gazed at Seven with a look Seven could only describe as…frustrated longing, hesitating. Vince gave him an exasperated look. “Go. I’ll bring Seven back to the table after—” his gaze dropped to Seven’s crotch briefly. “—he’s calmed down.” Enzo looked at Seven once again. “I don’t-” “Just go,” Seven begged quietly. “Please.” Enzo gave him one last look, then shook his head, turning on his heel and heading back the way he came. When they were alone, the man said, “I’m Vince. We were never formally introduced.” “Seven,” he managed, the tips of his ears burning bright. “I know,” Vince said. After a moment, he asked, “You alright?” Seven huffed out a heavy sigh, then let his head thud against the wall. “Fuck if I know.” “He’s not as bad as he seems,” Vince said. “He dominates in the courtroom and—I’ve heard—in the bedroom. But, outside of that, he’s faking it.” “What does that mean?” Seven asked, frowning. “Faking what?” “All of it.” Vince reached into his pocket and handed Seven a card. It was black with an expensive matte finish. A golden apple pierced by an inverted baroque cross. Lost Eden. Vincent Conti along with a telephone number. “Here’s my card. That’s my cell phone number. If you ever want to talk, call me.” Seven shook his head, frowning deeper. “Talk? About what? Enzo?” Vince shrugged. “Among other things,” he intoned vaguely. “Like…” Seven asked, head still foggy from too much red wine. Vince arched a brow. “Like why my brother is so set on only playing with ‘trained’ submissives. He said you weren’t really part of the community. You must have questions, right? Don’t go looking for answers on the internet. Just call me. Or, if you’re really feeling brave, come see me at the club. Drinks are on me.” “Why would I do any of that,” Seven asked. “We’re never going to be a thing.” Seven wasn’t sure which of them he was trying to convince. Vince shrugged. “One, I know you’re curious. Two—and this is the most important one—it will drive my brother crazy to know you’re at my club without him.” Butterflies erupted in his stomach at the thought of making Enzo jealous. “Just think about it,” Vince said, then added, “Come on, let's get back before they start talking.” Seven nodded. “Yeah, okay.”