Beyond Black & White Book 3: Rook
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A. Duncan
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39
Chapter 1
Book 3: Rook
ROOK
I can’t stop wanting her, but hating her runs in my veins.
I can’t stand her dry humor, her hostility, and her overall hatred toward all men. Her fake smile sends shivers down my spine, but damn it, that body can move with mine like a well-oiled machine.
We use each other, and it’s the biggest secret I’ve ever kept. One that could hurt the very person who always looked at me beyond my name and saw me for who I am from the beginning.
What would you do if you were keeping a secret from your family that could possibly split everyone apart? I should have known better. I did know better.
Promises were made but then broken. I promised her I’d stay away.
I agreed she was off limits, but in one disastrous night, all that went to hell in a bucket, and I’m left with the guilt of being the one who will take that laughter from her.
I know she will understand. But what I don’t want to see is the disappointment in her eyes when she looks at me.
I don’t want to feel the heaviness in my chest when I see her walk away, knowing she’s forgiving and loving but let down. I would be the one who let her down.
I don’t want to be that person.
How do you live with the guilt? How do you tell your sister you broke the promise you had every intention of keeping?
How do you take it back? How do you tell her you slept with the one person she asked you to stay away from, asked you not to play around with?
How do you tell her you slept with her best friend, and you’re continuing to do so? More importantly, how do you stay away?
When one time turns into something casual, the lines start to blur. The fun times get twisted into something possessive and argumentative.
One person gets upset over finding you with someone else, while the other gets so pissed that she leaves with another man for revenge.
Nothing was ever supposed to be set in stone. I’m definitely not a relationship person, and she’s as jaded about men as they come.
Yet throughout all this, we’re both still hiding the fact that we’re sneaking around. We’re addictive, yet destructive.
A beautiful, chaotic disaster from the start.
“Let’s go, Rook. Time to head out. This wedding isn’t like mine and Kallie’s,” Bishop calls out.
“Don’t I know it. Half these people I can’t even understand. King should have hired some interpreters along with those waiters.”
When a don gets married, it’s a huge occasion. Every boss from all over the world comes to attend, not just the US. Everyone is dressed in their best, trying to outdo each other with gifts galore. Laken will be opening them for weeks.
There are more designer labels walking around than the Macy’s Day Parade. Every don is showing off their woman like she’s a prize or the finest salmon caught on the shores of Alaska, all covered in the most exquisite diamonds money can buy.
It’s all ridiculous, if you ask me. King had to make sure one of the largest hotels we own stayed completely empty of clients for the week of the wedding to hold everyone.
Then he added more workers to pacify all the grown babies from overseas. Who really needs hot towels at 3 a.m.?
Laken would have been happy to have gone to the courthouse. King would have been too, but there are expectations that come with being the boss.
Like kissing ass when needed and overall mafia politics. The lucky one out of all of us is Remington.
He’s walking Laken down the aisle. But as soon as the ceremony is over, he has to leave and catch a flight with the Blackhawks to Canada.
So he’s on a strict time frame. Though I know for a fact they won’t leave without him.
Especially since he’s walking his sister down the aisle to marry the don of Chicago. She tried calling and talking to her parents.
They haven’t spoken in years, since they cut her off for changing her college major. She still fights with the racial and social upbringing she and Remington endured because of them.
Sometimes, she struggles daily, but we love her anyway and remind her who she really is. We, of all people, know some roots run deep that way.
All her mother was concerned about was how much money King has, what he does for a living, and what his social status is within the community.
She didn’t even acknowledge the fact Laken told her she now has a grandson. It pissed her off immensely. I walked in just as I saw Laken glance at King, turn red, and then tell her mother that King was a six-foot-four sewage worker who literally gets to walk around in other people’s shit, looking for clogged pipes.
She added that he also gambles away their money on the penny slots and cigarettes. But, she said, he has pretty eyes and a big dick, so that should count for something.
Needless to say, they’re not coming, and I don’t think Laken has lost any sleep over it.
Security is another story. It’s a complete nightmare.
We have all our men, plus some of Carlos’s guys, on surveillance, walking the area inside and out. Everybody else has to go through metal detectors before entering the building.
No weapons are allowed—that’s a given. Way too many mafia men in one room.
You’d think the president was here, with the way the secret service types are walking around, shotguns and sidearms in plain view.
Nobody bats an eyelash in this group. Luckily, Mikhail and Bishop’s son, Silas, are back at the house, protected by their own set of guards.
This is no place for small babies. Though many have asked King about Mikhail, he just smiles and tells them he isn’t stupid enough to bring his son to a gathering of this size.
“Shit, this damn tie is giving me hell today,” I mutter.
“Here, let me help you. Bishop, Kallie needs you for a moment. Something about looking fat. I already told her she looks like a million bucks. I mean, she gave birth what…two months ago?” Ellery says, walking in.
“I’m going before the tears start flowing.”
Bishop walks out, and Ellery yanks on my tie. “Turn around, let me fix this. King is already downstairs asking about you guys.”
“Let me guess, you’re going to leave with Jasper.”
“Who?”
“Alessandro’s nephew.”
She snaps her eyes up to mine. “It’s not what you think. Besides, what does it matter? We’re not in a relationship. You’re the one who said our hookups should end before someone found out.”
“You know what? You’re right. Fuck whoever you want. There’s enough pussy begging me for their time.”
She tightens my tie so much I can barely breathe. “If there’s so much of it going around, then don’t worry about mine,” she demands.
I make her release me and loosen my tie. “Damn, you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“Slip out the side door when the coast is clear after the ceremony.”
Both our heads snap to Bishop, who is at the door, clearing his throat with a not-so-amused look on his face. In fact, it looks downright lethal. “What I want to know is how long you two have been sleeping together, and which one of you is going to tell Kallie?”
