Chapter 1
605words
But reluctance was written in every pair of eyes around the table.
He shot me a glance, and I stepped forward.
"Dom's meaning is crystal clear. Those willing to follow him into legitimate business will be taken care of. Those who prefer the old ways—fine, do your thing. But if anyone blocksour path to legitimacy…" I paused, letting the threat hang in the air, "don't expect old friendships to save you."
When I finished, Dominic nodded with satisfaction and pulled me against his side.
His cold gaze swept across the room. "Are we clear?" His voice was flat as a blade.
Silence fell. Men exchanged nervous glances across the room.
Finally, someone broke.
"Look, Dom, you can decide to quit just like that, but the rest of us? We've been living on the edge our whole lives. This legitimate business shit—not everyone's cut out for it, you know?"
It was Marcus. Of course it was.
He'd never truly submitted to Dominic, always throwing his weight around because of his seniority.
Unfortunately for him, Dominic commanded more men and wielded far greater power.
And Dominic had always been ruthless. Brutally so.
No matter how defiant Marcus acted, with a family to protect, he still had to call him "Dom" like everyone else.
Normally, Dominic would throw the old man a bone—respect for the old guard and all that.
But right now, I felt the temperature around Dominic drop to freezing.
His lips still curved in that faint smile, his hand casually resting on my waist.
I reached for the teapot on the table. The water inside was scalding hot. Perfect.
I walked toward Marcus, catching Dominic's slight nod from the corner of my eye.
"Marcus," I said sweetly, "let's all play by the rules, shall we?"
Then I smashed the scalding teapot across his face.
Marcus crashed to the ground, howling like a wounded animal.
His boys tensed, hands twitching toward hidden weapons, but none dared make a move against me.
"Liv."
Dominic rested his chin on one hand and beckoned to me. "Easy there, tiger."
He glanced at Marcus writhing on the floor, his smile unreadable.
"My apologies, Marcus. Liv has quite the temper. Don't take it personally—you know how women can be."
With that, he slid his arm around my waist and guided me out.
Once outside, his lips quirked upward. "Damn, you're getting better at playing the boss's woman."
I lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. "Next time, find someone else to play the bad cop."
He plucked the cigarette from my lips and placed it between his own.
"Nobody does it like you, babe. Who else reads me so perfectly? If not you…" he exhaled smoke slowly, "then who?"
"You're my sharpest weapon."
I stared at his chiseled profile, something twisting in my chest.
He kept me close, let his men call me "boss's wife," not because he loved me that deeply.
But because I was the woman who fit his needs like a custom-made glove.
I didn't ask questions, pulled triggers without hesitation, and could read his every microexpression.
In this business, there were things a man in his position couldn't be seen doing.
But I, as his woman, could handle the dirty work without blinking.
No explanations needed—I executed his will perfectly.
That's why he couldn't function without me.
Yet even knowing I was just a tool in his arsenal, I still loved him. God help me, I did.
Because years ago, he'd saved me from a monster wearing human skin.
