Page 162 of Always Love You More

I’m used to the greeting because, just like my old man, Marcus doesn’t fuck around withwhat ifs.

Adrian steps away from the door, tucking his piece away and letting me pass.

I scan the room, clocking all the exits out of habit before striding over to Marcus. He’s sitting at a foldable card table, positioned in the middle of the room, cleaning a gun. He snaps his eyes up when the door slams closed behind me, the sound echoing through the cavernous space.

On my way to the table, I move past Jonah stripping a BMW and Marcus’s girl, Naomi, bagging pills. Their presence doesn’tmake me any less on edge. I’m more than familiar with how power structures like these work.

Marcus is in charge, so if he wants to fuck with me, nobody’s gonna step in.

I stop in front of him, grabbing the envelope from my back pocket. “Sorry, I’m—”

“Sit,” he commands, nodding to the chair opposite him.

I lower into the seat, sliding the envelope toward him. He sets down the gun and reaches for it, tucking it away without checking its contents.

“I give you a lot of free passes ’cause of who you are, but this is the second time you’ve made me wait on you.” When I don’t say anything, he asks, “Things at home all right?”

“Fine,” I answer. I’m not about to tell him shit. It’s none of his business.

“Your mother?”

My jaw ticks. “Her husband’s dead, but other than that …”

“Lucky she has you.”

“You got the product?” I ask. “I’m here to pick up, not for a therapy session.”

I wait for him to lose it, maybe pistol whip me or something for giving him lip, but he just tilts his head back and starts laughing.

When he looks back at me, I notice his dilated pupils. “You’re one cold motherfucker, you know that?”

“Just here to work,” I tell him.

He watches me for a minute before he shakes his head. “He really did a number on you, didn’t he, kid?” Before I can respond, he drums his hands on the table and shouts, “Naomi!”

She looks up from where she’s working and quickly starts toward us.

When Marcus started bringing her around, it was clear the only reason she was with him was drugs and money. Well, and maybe the ego boost of being with a man in power. She’s at leastfifteen years younger than him and the type of pretty he would never be able to pull if he wasn’t who he is.

Her hips sway as she saunters toward us, her skimpy outfit leaving little to the imagination. As she approaches, she runs her eyes over me appreciatively.

I look away, not wanting her to get any ideas.

When she reaches the table, Marcus yanks her toward him, and I shift, about to step in, but he drops his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he questions, his voice low.

“What do you mean? I—”

“You were practically eye-fucking him the whole way over here,” Marcus spits.

She turns toward him, running her hand down his chest. “I wasn’t looking at him any kind of way.”

“You sayin’ I’m lying?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I—”

“Do you want to fuck him?”