“As what?”
“His accountant. Apparently, Mr. Garrison recommended me.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” She sets her coffee cup on the white marble counter as her jaw practically dislocates. “You’re going to work for the Boston Wolfes?”
“What? No!” I screech.
No fucking chance in hell am I going to work for the biggest crime lord in town. That would be asking for trouble.
Specifically because I almost got lost in his green eyes, ready to hand over my soul if he’d asked me to as he pinned me down with his hypnotizing gaze.
Think about your spine, Kendall.
If I had to see those eyes every day? I would have no life left. I’d become a slave to the specimen that is called Franklin Wolfe, just like the rest of Boston. I’ll pass.
Besides, I’m still recovering from the last man who walked into my life. I don’t need another one messing with my head.
“No?” she repeats, shock evident on her face.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m sorry. Do they have another word for ‘no’ in Boston that I missed? Because I’m from Alabama, and we just stick to the word ‘no’. No. N period. O period.”
She places her elbows on the bar, pointing her finger at me with a skeptical look.
“So let me get this straight. You told Franklin Wolfe no?”
“You’re starting to sound like a fucking parrot. Yes, Josie. I declined his offer,” I snap.
I know it may be rare to hear that word out of my mouth since I’m a pleaser in general, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t start speaking French overnight.
She shakes her head while I drop the last bite of my donut in my mouth, still glaring at her.
“You don’t say ‘no’ to Franklin Wolfe.” The sound of her voice is resolute, as if she is stating a fact.
Okay, I know he’s the biggest fish in town, but surely he can’t make me work for him if I don’t want to.
Right?
An uncertainty creeps into my body, and suddenly, I don’t feel so sure of myself.
“I vowed I wouldn’t let a man control me ever again, so how about trying to help me keep that promise. You know? Show that I have at least some backbone left in my body.” I shrug, taking another donut from the box.
“And you chose Franklin Wolfe as the first man to show the new you?” Incredulity washes over her face. That or she’s thinking I’ve lost my mind.
“I’m not going to work for the biggest crime lord in town,“ I state carefully, wondering if this is the smartest decision. I felt confident about it last night, proud of my resolute stance, but looking into Josie’s worried face makes me think I’m more stupid than smart at this point.
“Oh, please,” she huffs, bringing her cup to her pink lips, her eyes filled with disbelief.
“What?”
“Yes, you will.”
“No, I won’t.” I cross my arms in front of my body in a defiant way, hoping to convince her of the new me, just like I’m trying to convince myself. She mirrors my posture, giving me a look like she knows it all. She may know it all, but I’m not the same girl I was a year ago.
This is the new me!
I think.
“Darling, he may have let you go with a ‘no’ last night, but he sure as hell won’t do it again.”
“I’m not going to let another man dictate my life,” I avow firmly, still trying to hold on to my attitude.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind letting Franklin Wolfe dictate my life.” She gives me a swoony look like the maneater that she is, hoping to soften my mood.
“Well, you take the job then.” I chuckle as I take another sip of my coffee.
“He didn’t offer me one.”
“Right. It doesn’t matter, anyway. ”
“No, because you will take that job.”
Her smug grin is pissing me off, and I want to slap it from her face. I know she knows exactly what goes on in this town, but I know enough to believe he won’t hurt me by simply telling him ‘no.’ He’s got a hand in basically every business in this town, but he also has a reputation of being just and fair. For treating women with respect and doing his best to keep his staff happy. I’m sure he won’t force me to work for him.
Right?
“I’m not taking the job, Josie. And I doubt he’ll put a gun to my head to tell me otherwise.”
“Oh, honey, bless your heart.” She shakes her head as she gives me a sympathetic look. “Your first mistake was thinking you can say ‘no’ to Franklin Wolfe. The second one is thinking he’ll let you walk away now that you’re on his radar. You will work for him, and he won’t even have to put a gun to your pretty little head. He’ll make you believe it was all your own choice.”
I stare back at her in annoyance, my lips thinning as I let her words sink in, wondering if maybe she’s right. If maybe my behavior put me on his radar and is now entwined with the wills and wants that are Franklin Wolfe.
Five
Franklin
I open the door to The Library, my eyes assessing the area with my chin held high. The bar is mainly filled with blue-collar workers having a drink after a day of hard work. I quickly scan their faces, making sure none of them is from a rival gang before I move my attention to the reason for my late-night visit.
My stern face relaxes a little when I notice the perky brunette from last night on her tiptoes trying to get a bottle of liquor on the highest shelf. Her jeans are hugging her curves, and she’s wearing a t-shirt that shows some of her light beige skin every time she reaches up. I quietly walk towards the bar, then take a seat on one of the barstools in front of her. She slightly rocks along to a country song coming from the speakers, completely oblivious to my presence until she turns around to pluck a clean glass from the shelf in front of her.
Her eyes widen in shock as she winces, almost dropping the glass.
“H-hi, Mr. Wolfe. Good evening.” She flashes me a timid smile before she sucks in a breath of air, pulling herself together.
My hand reaches into the pocket of my coat, and I pull out my pack of smokes, setting it on the bar after I take a cigarette out of the pack. I light it, sucking in the nicotine filled air, my eyes never leaving hers. I notice her swallow while she starts wiping the bar in a frantic way, and I can’t help but imagine how she would look swallowing me.
“Do I make you nervous, Ms. Ryan?” I ask, repeating my question from last night, despite knowing what her answer will be.
Her head darts towards me as she gives me a slight glare. I have to press my lips together to keep a straight face.
She’s cute when she’s pissed, a little endearing even. I wonder if she’s pissed at me or at herself. Seconds pass while she holds my stare, finally letting out a deep breath as she continues wiping down the bar.
“Yes.”
I cock my head, surprised by her honesty. When I had my hand covering her slim neck last night, I’d enjoyed the defiance that she tried to push through her insecurity. It had me thinking about all the ways I could push her further before stripping her naked. Surprisingly, her being honest turns me on even more.
A small smile twists my lips while I give her an approving look.
“A whiskey please, Ms. Ryan.” I take another toke of my cigarette while she nods and grabs a bottle of whiskey off the shelf behind her.
She splashes two fingers in a fresh glass, glancing at me before she screws the cap back on.
“Why?” I ask.
Her eyes find mine in confusion before she shakes her head and pours a second glass of whiskey, as if this situation is too much for her.
“Why what?” she fires back before pouring the whiskey down her throat in one gulp, making me chuckle inside.
“Why do I make you nervous?” The smoke of my cigarette lingers between us, like a smoldering curtain that blurs the features of her pretty eyes and the emotion that seeps through them. I put out the cigarette, feeling the need to see e
very single detail of her face before taking a sip of my whiskey.
“I see it now,” she starts, doing her best to hold my gaze even though I can see she’s having a hard time with it. “Why they call you the leader of the pack? It’s your eyes.”
“My eyes?” A hint of amusement etches my voice.
“Hmm,” she hums in agreement. “Your eyes are like those of a wolf in a dark forest, compelling. Drawing you in. You know that you have to run, but something has you freezing to the spot.”
“Are you saying I’m an animal?”
“No,” she replies with certainty, even though her eyes tell me yes.
Wrong answer.
I am an animal.
I’m not the kind of animal half of my boys are. I don’t feel the need to throw out a few punches on a Friday night just to release the tension. I rarely give people that amount of my energy, simply because my energy is worth more than beating up some morons. But push me too far, make me decide that loss of energy is worth it, and I’m the worst animal out there. I’m the animal that will tear you apart, leaving nothing other than pieces of flesh scattered around the particles that were once your soul.
“Do you wanna run, Ms. Ryan?”
She bites her lip at that question, stirring my dick to attention as I contemplate what her answer will be. She should run because I will destroy her. But maybe she’s smart enough to realize it’s already too late for that.
“Should I?” she questions, swallowing hard, as if she can read my mind.
“It’s up to you, Ms. Ryan.”
She holds my gaze before letting out a deep breath, a bit of the tightness releasing from her shoulders.
“Please, just call me Kenny,” she says, changing the subject as she looks towards the clock hanging above the door. “So, are you walking in at midnight to force me to work for you?”
Her look is stern, the small scowl on her flawless face forcing my respect while her fingers nervously tap the bar as she waits for my answer.
And to thank her for her effort, I give it to her.
“I thought about it,” I admit.
“What part?” Her face softens a little, and a string of her brown hair falls over her face, making her run a hand through her hair.
“Forcing you. My men were eager to show you there is no saying ‘no’ to the Boston Wolfes.”
She swallows hard, tension clearly entering her body again.
“Are you going to?”
I hold her gaze, not saying a word, just shamelessly staring at her while I think about all the things I want to do to her. She has a bright spark in her eyes that is filled with pride, making her put in her best effort to hold her own against me. It’s a spark that I want to set on fire. I can tell there is also a fear in her that is fed by insecurity, making me curious to find out what the root of her lack of confidence is.
“To force me, I mean?” she continues when my silence becomes too much for her.
“No,” I answer truthfully, bringing my eyes to my glass before lifting it to take another sip, glancing at her from above the rim of my glass.
She frowns in confusion as I tap the empty glass to request another.
“No?” She fetches the bottle and refills my glass.
“Even though I know there are many ways I can get you to work for me by tomorrow, I’m convinced none of those ways will give me ‘you’ the way I want,” I explain, licking my lower lip.
My gaze locks with hers, my eyes pinching to make it perfectly clear what I’m talking about. Her mouth opens slightly, shallow breaths leaving her lips while her cheeks start to blush.
Fuck, that’s sexy.
“Instead, I’m going to sit here,” I point my finger at the bar, “at this bar, every night, until the day you agree to work for me.”
“You can’t be serious?” she scoffs incredulously.
“I’m always serious, Ms. Ryan.”
She tilts her head as she examines my face.
“What if I never agree to work for you?” She cocks an eyebrow, presumably feeling more secure now that she knows I won’t hurt her.
Cute.
“You know I always get what I want, right?” I counter with a straight face.
“Must be boring?” She rolls her eyes while a small smile creases her face.
“You’re bold, Ms. Ryan.”
She huffs in response, “I’m definitely not bold, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Please, call me Franklin. And I beg to differ, Kenny.” I shoot her a wink, complying with her request, hoping it’ll be enough encouragement for her to do the same with mine. “You defy me, even though it makes you uncomfortable. That’s pretty bold to me.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
I let out a soft chuckle.
“Definitely good.”
Six
Kendall
He made good on his word. He’s been sitting at my bar for the last seven nights. Always coming in at eleven at night, not leaving until I close it down. I still get a nervous flutter in my stomach when he watches me work, but I’ve learned to ignore his staring eyes. Sometimes he comes in with other Wolfes, I think one of them is called Nigel. Sometimes he comes in alone, though it wouldn’t surprise me if he has some undercover back-up nearby. But he always focuses his attention on me, speaking to me any moment I’m not pouring drinks or waiting on the other guests. At first it was uncomfortable, feeling like he was grilling me every single chance he got, but now we just talk. Mostly about me.
Tonight is no exception, I realize, while he stares into my eyes. He weakens me with his burning gaze until I have no resolve and will answer any question he has.
“Where are you from?” he asks, his face stoic as ever.
“Why? My Boston accent need more work?” I taunt, taking his glass from the bar and pouring him his second and final glass. He never drinks more than two glasses before switching to sparkling water, making me wonder why that is.
“Your Boston accent is nonexistent, pretty girl.” He softly chuckles while his nickname for me warms me inside. Chances are he uses that for every woman he talks to, but I’ve caught myself pretending it was reserved for only me more than once this past week.
I grab my heart, feigning offense.
“How dare you, Mr. Wolfe? You break my heart.” My real accent is on full display, subtly telling him where I’m from.
“Ah, see!” He points his at me while still holding his cigarette between his fingers. “There it is. You’re a Southern belle. What brings you to The Olde Towne?”
The interested look on his face makes my stomach flutter, and I show him a genuine smile in response.
“Followed an old flame, eight years ago.”
“An old flame?” He cocks his head slightly, his lips pressed firmly together in displeasure for two seconds before his face goes back to its usual impassive expression. I wonder if that was jealousy I saw creeping in or if my mind’s playing tricks on me.
“How old?” he asks, taking a puff of his cigarette.
“Ancient.” I smile, hoping to relax him again.
He waves his hand, requesting more confirmation.
“Another lifetime. Forever ago, in the past.” I add, watching his green eyes sparkle as the words leave my lips.
“Good.” He looks content as he holds his eyes locked with mine. I wonder if he’s flirting with me. The thought alone has me swallowing that same curiosity away, feeling kinda scared that he really may be.
“You’ve been sitting here for seven days straight. Are you ready to give up yet?” I mock, crossing my arms in front of my body.
He gives me a bored look before the corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile, his eyes lighting up for just a second in a knowing way.
“I don’t know, pretty girl. I’m feeling lucky today.”
I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a playful glare.
“I thought you didn’t believe in luck.” I return, referring to one of our earlier conversations at
the beginning of the week.
‘Luck is for fools who refuse to put in the hard work. There is no such thing as luck,’ were his literal words.
He gifts me with one of his full smiles that I’ve learned are as rare as an eclipse considering the man barely smiles about anything. He’s always kind and friendly, but his face is free of expression ninety percent of the time, so making him smile every now and then makes me feel like I can achieve the impossible.
I realize I’m beaming at him, appreciating how incredibly handsome he is when he smiles. Don’t get me wrong, he is fucking handsome all the time. He’s a man who takes over a room with his presence, without saying a word. He’s an authority that you can’t deny, and his real secret weapon? He makes you not even want to deny it. He has this way of making you want to agree with anything he says.
Like a fucking magician, messing with your head without you even knowing it.
“True, but sometimes the days roll by with ease. Today is one of those days,” he explains with a wink while my face mirrors his in a wide grin.
I’m about to open my mouth when I notice someone walking through the door, looking up to greet my new customer.
“Good evening, Matt,” I drawl with a friendly smile, since he’s one of our regulars. His shaggy blond hair is covered in snow, and his face looks stern and troubled. I feel my brows lift while I wait for him to say something. Dread coils in my stomach when I notice the gun hanging loosely in his hand as his fury filled eyes focus on Franklin. Franklin follows my gaze to Matt, who slowly takes two steps forward, bringing up the gun to aim it at Franklin’s head.
“Matt!” I call out with uncertainty in my voice while Franklin moves his focus back to me, his face unaffected, as if a gun being pointed at him is the most normal thing in the world.
“Lucky day, huh?” I mumble sarcastically while I try to swallow my panic away.
“The day isn’t over yet, pretty girl.” He shrugs, the whole situation leaving him unaffected as if he’s blind to the man pointing a gun at his head.
I focus my attention towards Matt, who is practically foaming at the mouth.
Franklin: A Boston Mafia Romance (The Boston Wolfes) Page 3
