It was a mistake...

**ALEX**

I watched her sleep for a good hour or so before I locked the door to her suite and headed to my room to drown myself in a bottle of Jack. Stepping into my rooms I headed straight for my bar in the corner, pretending not to notice Stella sitting on my couch as I downed half the bottle to the head. Ripping my shirt open so that I could get a little air, I pulled out my gun and cocked it before spinning around to point it straight at her. "Get the fuck out of here," I snapped. "I don't want to see you in my rooms again."

"Alex!" she pouted, holding her hands up in surrender. Her face was flushed, her eyes red. *Had she been crying? I fucking hope so.* "I did nothing wrong."

"Oh no?" I laughed, taking another burning shot of my bottle before I faced her again. "How much did you give her?"

She trembled, flinching when I lifted my gun in her direction. "Just what you asked me to. Point five milliliters."

"Bullshit," I hissed. "You gave her more than that. She hardly even knew where in the fuck she was. She was burning up! Her body was so goddamned hot I could hardly stand to have her hands on me." "But Alex, I did what you told me! If I accidentally poured a little too much I'm sorry! But you can't-"

"Get the fuck out," I said again, stepping up to her and placing the barrel of my gun to her forehead. "I'm just drunk enough to do it. I'm going to close my eyes. You have five seconds to-"

bottle. What I'd done was bad enough. When I'd agreed to the deal with Enzo, I hadn't anticipated having Antony and Paul Romano to contend with as well. Apparently that extra ten percent that I had fendangled out of Enzo came with strings. Paul being one of them and Antony being the other. Now I held seventy percent of the most lucrative club in Midtown *and* thirty of its sister club along the shore. Antony's Club. *Fuck me.* The fact that they agreed to it much too easily never factored in. So when Antony and Paul arrived claiming part of the payment, there was little I could do. I thought *maybe* if Romany had a

out each time he plunged into her. It made me want to pull out my knife and castrate the bastard. But I didn't. Why? Because I am a greedy, selfish, son-of-a-bitch

swallowing the last of my liquor just as my doors burst open and my cousin

not say a fucking word to me. I want to hate myself in

like the devil come to take what I owed. Tiny stood behind him, his jaw clenched and eyes wary. Both of them had their guns out and I had to

me in my own house?" I giggled. "You

don't know that,"

kept my gun on him. "So what?

Why?" he growled, pulling Tiny inside

rug. "What I do, I do for

going to go on a rampage. He might even get himself

tell him," I

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