Hate Me (The Fox Family Crime Syndicate, #2)

by Summer O'Toole

Effie and I had known each other for years. We’re only a couple years apart, and our fathers run in the same circles. Those circles being the rich and dirty criminal underworld. But it wasn’t until we graduated high school a few years ago that we really started spending time together as more than two crime bosses’ kids. I had my brothers of course, but there was something freeing about spending time with another person who knew what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night to gunshots and eat breakfast to the smell of bleach the next morning.

Marriage for love is for princesses in the fairytales, not princesses in the Mafia.

Princess. That one word makes my stomach flutter more than anything else he’s said tonight. I convinced him to drive me to get ice cream once by saying, “I’m the Luciano Princess,” and he replied, “Well, who am I to deny a princess.” “I can’t believe you remember that.” “I remember every second I’ve spent with you.”

His eyes lock on mine as he teases the delicate skin above my waistband with his tongue making me shiver. “Every part of you is going to belong to me by the end of the night,” he whispers into my flesh and begins to undo my jeans with his teeth. Fuck if I’ve ever seen anything hotter than this man on his knees for me.

“I have one question before we begin—” “What’s my safe word?” I guess. “No.” His voice is shockingly cold, detached and starkly different to the tone he’s used all night and dread sinks into me. “What the fuck are you and those French bitches planning?”

She looks like a goddess, even on a bathroom counter, and I’ll fucking kneel at her altar.

Finn: Be sure to count how many times he makes you come. So I can double it. Effie: Goodbye, Finn. I have a date to get to. Finn: Hudson. Effie: Oh, so you do know his name. Finn: Just wanted to remind you of it. My driver arrives, and I slide into the backseat wondering what the hell Finn is on about. But then I get another text and nearly throw my phone out the damn window. Finn: Since you’re so used to screaming mine.

I didn’t realize how desperately I wanted to see her until those few passing seconds clutched my lungs. This is getting fucking ridiculous. Against my will, she possesses my every waking moment—and if I’m being honest, most of my sleeping ones too. I can no longer pretend it’s out of concern for my family and the war that is brewing. In the office at Peaches, she told me to get on my knees, and I fell like a sinner begging for salvation. Then something switched inside me when I saw her eyes well up in that dusty parking lot. I’ve always been possessive when it comes to her, but when I saw those scars I became protective too. Summoning back up old feelings that will do nothing but get people hurt.

I remove my hands from the ladder to clutch his face and demand he see my eyes even in the quickly fading light. “Fuck me and tell me how lucky you are.” He stills his thrusts and breathes heavily, taking in my words. “How lucky you are that after everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done, I’m still here, still wanting you.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have. It was fucked up and cruel.” I enunciate each word clearly to make sure he knows what I’m asking of him: Own up to your shit. The emotion on his face shutters closed, tucking everything away neatly behind a mask of cold apathy. A defense mechanism, but I see through it. He nods and heads downstairs and out the door. There’s a brief moment when I feel bad. The deep programming all women have to protect men’s emotions even at the expense of your own. I shove that feeling down, because fuck that.

Once the rounds of betting have occurred and the turn comes, she erupts in cheers, takes the remainder of the chips, and her brothers groan in defeat. She twists in my lap and grabs me by the face for a kiss that knocks all the air out of me. This singular public display of affection is the first time that I’ve ever felt like I truly belong to her——not even my cock inside her or the ring on her finger has made me feel this way. She’s always been mine, but now I’m hers, too.

“I thought I already ruined you,” I grunt as I withdraw and thrust back in, deeper, harder. I slip my fingers from her mouth and collar her throat “You did. But the only time I feel whole is when you’re breaking me apart.”

“Did we already get to the ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ part? Because I object on account that Euphemia Fox is already married. To me.”