Page 140 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
“You are dead-set on annoying me …” she starts, huffing another sigh.
“I thought I hated it here,” I tell her, shaking my head and then laying back on the bed until I’m curled up against Fem’s side. He licks my hair before settling down, and Reba lies beside us. “Then I thought this is where I wanted to be. Now that I see this house, I can’t decide if I’m definitely making the right decision or if I should run—and not get caught by the mafia this time around.”
Reba stares up at the canopy above our heads, contemplating things.
“After the wedding,” she starts, her red hair as pretty as blood on the white surface of the comforter. “I want to go to the convent. Grey promised he’d find me a place.” She turns her head to look at me. “But I’m worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me?” I query back, reaching out to take her hand. We tangle our fingers together, and she smiles at me. “You just lost your parents, Reba. You … I’m the one who’s worried about you.”
“We’re worried about each other,” she agrees, nodding her head and sitting up suddenly. “We need a third opinion.”
“Oh no, please don’t,” I groan as she leans over me and digs my phone from the pocket of Beast’s jacket. I sigh heavily. I’d rather argue with Cat than Reba. He might kill ya, but at least the fight would be over. She, on the other hand, is stubborn beyond all reason. “I delete all our conversations after we’re done. Let me give you his number.”
Rather than text Grey, Reba calls him.
She video calls him.
“Gidge,” he says, blinking in surprise and then smiling when he sees Reba on the screen as well. “Reba.”
“This is a personal call, not a business one,” she assures him, and he nods, settling back in a chair and looking beyond exhausted.
“Good. I don’t have any business-related information at the moment anyway.” His gray eyes flick past her to find me. “I hope you’re practicing self-care. It’s important, whether you believe it or not.”
“Go fuck yourself, Grey,” I tell him, playing with Fem’s fur. “I have better things to do than floss, moisturize, and starch my underwear.”
He laughs at that, but only part of that sentence is a joke. Grey doesn’t starch his underwear; servants starch his underwear for him. Whether that’s on Giulia’s instructions or his, I never did find out.
“Gidget’s worried about me travelin’ to the convent after the wedding, and I’m worried about her because she’s in love with four men.” Reba doesn’t mince words, leaning one palm back on the bed for balance and holding the phone just right so that Grey can see us both. “We wanted to get your opinion.”
“On which part? I love the idea of you becoming a nun,” he tells her honestly, glancing over at me as if for confirmation. “I want someone by my side who I can trust, a religious figure to guide my actions.”
“As what? A pseudo-prisoner in your own home?” I quip, and he laughs, that smoky, sexy laugh that never quite did for me what Sin’s chuckle does, or Grainger’s irritating guffaw. God, love sucks serious ass. It’s irrational and annoying, and it makes you act like a crazy person. I’m pissed off because a guy bought a house, and I can’t have it? That’s dumb as fuck.
“As the future Don of the Grey Wolfe Mafia,” he corrects, and a chill travels down my spine. When he says it like that, I almost believe him. “And you will be the liaison for the club, at the very least. Because I will not deal with anyone else in it. So however those knuckle-dragging barbarians want to cast your role, that’s fine. But it’s a non-negotiable point.”
“You think the club won’t wipe its ass with your family?” I query back, genuinely interested in his response.
“I think my family and your club are fairly evenly matched; I think the war both sides are preparing for will destroy us all. Our city, and the remnants of our organizations, will become fodder for lesser criminals. A cartel perhaps? A Russian mob? Who knows? However it happens, it won’t be good for any of us. We need a truce, and that only happens between me and you. Only we can trust each other.”
“Y’all just promised not to talk business,” Reba complains, and I sit up, tossing my hair over my shoulder.
“Reba will be safe in the convent?” I ask, and Grey nods.
“Regardless of what happens between our families, she’ll be safe there. The convent is affiliated with my family, but it’s also an extension of the Catholic church as a whole. She’ll be alright.” Grey reaches up to swipe a hand over his hair. It’s cut short again, slicked back, his face clean-shaven. I would love to know every detail of what’s happened to him since he crawled into that pipe organ, but that’s a story for another day. “As for you? I don’t envy you, being in love with four men. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
