Chapter 21

21

Acloud of cigarette smoke assaults my sinuses, making my stomach churn as Drea drags me past a couple of hipsters posted up outside the bar we're meeting Cami at in the West Loop.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," I groan as we fall into the entry line.

Drea spins around, brows creased in concern. "Can I help?"

With my hands on my knees, I gently shake my head. "No." I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath. "It's passing."

Who knew something as simple as a smell could be my pregnancy kryptonite? It's not even just bad smells. It's random smells.

"Okay," I say, straightening and opening my eyes. "I'm good."

"Ya sure, babe?" Drea tilts her head to the side.

Humming in response, I take a few steps forward as the line moves quickly. I slip my phone from the back pocket of my ripped skinny jeans and fire off a text to Cami as we get closer to the bouncer.

Bowie told me earlier that Cami had been asking about me the other day, and I instantly felt guilty for the fact I hadn't even thought to shoot her an email. We've easily become work friends, and even though Bowie transferred over pictures and contacts from my old phone, sending out a mass new number text was the furthest thing from my mind.

"ID's," the bouncer states flatly.

Drea and I hand ours over and he inspects them, then us, eyes wandering further down than what our driver's license photos show. Studying the ground as I shift nervously back and forth on the balls of my feet, I try to ignore the heat of his stare. No matter how much Drea reassured me I look great tonight, I'm still self-conscious about the way the sage green long-sleeved cropped top shows off my midsection without some creep staring at it longer than necessary.

"Stamp their hands before I spoon your eyes out," Dallas spits, plucking our IDs from the bouncer's meaty tattooed fingers and handing them back to us.

I don't know if he senses how uncomfortable I am or is just miffed that someone was taking an extended visual tour of me and Drea's bodies. Either way, I'm low-key thankful for his big dick- so I've been told- energy, right now.

The bouncer's eyes shoot up to Dallas' and they engage in an intense non-verbal standoff. Even though he's sitting down, I know the two would be pretty evenly matched in height and weight if it came down to a brawl.

"Hands," the bouncer finally says after a beat, not breaking eye contact with Dallas.

All three of us offer up the backs of our hands as he presses the '21+' stamp onto our skin before waving us inside.

"Geeze, caveman much?" Drea tosses over her shoulder at Dallas as we weave through the small crowd right inside the door.

He grunts in response as he stays two steps behind us.

Feeling the vibration, I check my phone and slip it back into my pocket. "Cami says she's at a table near the stage by the hall to the bathrooms."

It's early enough that the place isn't packed yet, but there are still plenty of sweaty bodies to bump into as we cross the room

"Wren!" Cami shouts, eagerly waving a hand in the air. "Over here!"

The smile on her face falters, eyes narrowing just over my shoulder as we reach the table. "Ew, why is my brother here?"

My mouth hinges open and I dart a glance from Cami to Dallas and back, noticing the same eyes and cheekbones on both their faces.

"Good to see you too, Camillia," Dallas says boredly.

She scowls in his direction, then drops the look of annoyance and shifts her attention to me. "The bar can get really busy, so I went ahead and got us a round of shots and some seltzers. However, I didn't intend on my brute of a brother being here," she lifts her chin as she takes a seat, "So he'll have to get his own."

The seltzers are of course spiked, and even if I wasn't pregnant, I wouldn't drink them. I've never understood the appeal, they taste like drinking static while someone whispers the name of a fruit repetitively in your ear.

"Even if I was drinking tonight, I wouldn't touch that bitch beer," Dallas sneers, then looks at me. "Want me to get you a bottle of water or something?"

"I can get it," I say, glancing over at the growing crowd gathering around the bar.

His hand clamps down on my shoulder. "Sit. I'll go."

I roll my eyes as I sink down onto the leather barstool and he strides off toward the bar.

"Wren," Cami starts, eyes following her brother before finding me. "Are you sleeping with my brother?"

Drea barks a laugh. "No, she's sleeping with your boss. I'm sleeping with your brother."

Cami's mouth falls open with a gasp, hand slapping to her chest as she blinks rapidly. I shoot Drea a look and she just shrugs, throwing back the shot in front of her.

When I said I was going to fill Cami in on my situationship, I'd planned to ease into it casually, not go nuclear.

"Hold on," Cami sputters as she reaches for her own shot, tossing it back with a wince. "You and Mr. Sorrentino, and you and Dallas?" she clarifies, swinging her gaze between me and my friend.

I nod, and Drea winks.

"Oh my gosh," she gushes. "How? Since when? I need the details!"

"Well, at the Monarch Club, I was out on the dance floor and two strong hands gripped my hips, pulling me against an eager bulge-"

"Ew!" Cami pales, cutting Drea off. "No offense, but that's already more than I needed to know." Shifting her focus to me, she redirects. "You. Tell me how things started with Mr. Sorrentino."

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth while I contemplate where to begin and what details to include. If Dallas is Cami's brother, surely she has some knowledge of the less-than-legal activities he participates in, right?

Deciding to omit the attack and the baby aspect for now, I give Cami the cliff notes version and bring her up to speed.

"Wow. Just wow," she breathes once I fill her in, shaking her head in amusement and taking another drink of her seltzer. "Good for you. I mean, he's a total hottie and all, but there's too much of that same alpha male energy my brother oozes for my liking." She shoots Drea a look. "Sorry."

"Don't be," she smirks. "That growly thing really gets Wren and me going. Especially in the bedroom."

"Ugh, I'm nowhere near tipsy enough to hear about my brother's sex life."

"Here," I say, lifting my untouched shot and twisting towards her. "Bottoms up!"

Before Cami can take the shot, it's plucked from my fingers and a bottle of water is placed in front of me instead.

"I wasn't going to drink it," I huff defensively.

A stone-faced Dallas grunts, unceremoniously putting the shot glass and two more bottles of water down on the table. He lifts an eyebrow at Drea, some seriously hot nonverbal communication passing between them as a sly smile tugs on her lips.

"I'll be over there." He looks at me and tips his head toward the wall not twenty feet away. "If it gets too rowdy, we're outta here."

"Oh stop it, party-pooper," Cami interjects, shooing her brother away. "We'll be fine."

I know he's doing his job- one he's not taking lightly this time. So, I agree, and he slices through the crowd that's almost doubled since we got here. He positions himself at the start of the half-wall by the hall to the bathrooms, folding his arms across his chest. He swivels his head, slowly taking in the place before pulling out his phone to no doubt update Bowie.

Cami grabs for the shot glass Dallas confiscated. "You sure you don't want it?"

"I'm good," I smile, pushing the seltzer between her and Drea. "You guys can have this, too."

"Oh, boo. You don't actually have to listen to him. Your boyfriend is his boss, which kinda makes you his boss, too."

Huh, hadn't thought about that.

I add that to my mental list of things to discuss further with Bowie about his position.

"Really, it's okay, Cami," I chuckle, lowering my voice. "I'm pregnant. That's why I'm not drinking."

Her eyes round in shock. "Mr. Sorrentino's?!"

I nod.

"Aww, congratulations!"

"Thanks," I mutter, cracking the lid on my water bottle and taking a sip.

Motion from the stage catches our attention, and one of the bar workers taps the mic, instantly quieting the chatter around us. He makes a small speech, thanking everyone for coming out and talking a bit about the band before telling us to put our hands together for Communication Error.

"Whoo!" Cami yells, slapping her hand down on the table as Perry steps out, adjusting his guitar strap.

Perry gives her a lopsided grin as his bandmates take their places around him. The lead singer introduces everyone, various levels of cheering coming from the crowd for each of the four members. He motions with his hands for everyone to settle down, flashing a big smile that shows off his perfect, white teeth as he names the first song in their set.

He grips the mic as Perry's fingers curl around the neck of his guitar and strums with the pick, playing an easy riff as the keyboardist and drummer join in. The beat is slow and melodic, one you can't help but sway along to as the lead singer's husky voice locks us in a trance.

If I said I'd change, damn, would you turn the car around.

I'm too fucked up for perfect, and maybe you already knew.

Your silence pulls me under, I think this time I'll just drown.

But I'd trade my soul for one night, just one last night, with you.

I let the lyrics wash over me, getting lost in the emotions of this song and the next. Even though they don't mirror exactly what I've got going on, it speaks to something in my heart.

Drea gave me space when I showed up last night. She didn't ask questions, just let me and my keeper right in. Dallas even played the dutiful bodyguard well, checking to make sure the windows and doors were all locked before camping out on the couch. I was so mentally taxed that I fell asleep on top of the covers, fully dressed, heels still on.

This morning, though, space was not something Drea had to offer. After I convinced her to let me finish showering first, we took conchas, her coffee, and my tea to the roof. Dallas was close behind, doing a full sweep of the space before taking his post at the door. Once we settled into the loungers, I word-vomited everything.

I told her how Bowie was not only involved with the mafia, but he led it. All the things he had his hand in, the interaction between him and his apparent rival at dinner, and the way he looked at me as I stepped onto the elevator last night.

Unlike me, Bowie's a pro at keeping his face from reflecting what he's feeling. But his eyes… goddamnit if his beautiful hazel eyes didn't drive a knife into my chest. They were brimming with emotions, silent pleas for me to stay and wordless promises that he meant everything he said.

Surprisingly, Drea came to his defense, reminding me that he wanted out of the drugs and how he didn't approve of the shady endeavors Gabriel took part in. It was low-key annoying how quick she was to point out all the amazing things he's done for me, and that I kept it a secret that I knew he was my one-night stand the moment I spotted that butterfly tattoo scrolling across his chest. What really hit home was when she said he was the leader of the Chicago outfit before our relationship, during our relationship, and he'd still be it after- the only thing that's actually changed is me knowing.

Claps and cheers pull me back from my thoughts as the band announces intermission.

"Weren't they great?" Cami gushes.

I swear her irises have turned to hearts as she watches Perry disappear off stage.

"Totally," Drea and I answer, almost in unison.

"I'm so glad you guys came out. I've really missed you at the office, Wren."

"Aww, I'll be back Monday. We can grab coffee or lunch if you want," I offer.

"Eeek! That sounds great!" Her phone lights up with a message and a smile spreads across her face."You guys okay if I go see Perry before their next set?"

"Go for it, girl!" Drea encourages.

"Okay," she breathes, pushing to her feet. "I'll see you guys in like fifteen."

"She's fun," Drea remarks as Cami heads for the stage. "I totally approve of her being your work bestie."

"Yeah, she's a sweetheart," I say, sliding off the barstool and hooking a thumb over my shoulder. "I'll be right back, I've got to pee."

"Oh, me too." Drea pops up and links her arm with mine.

Of course, there's a decent line snaking outside of the ladies' room, and none leading up to the men's restroom. I can feel the weight of Dallas' watchful eye as I lean a shoulder against the wall covered in a collage of band posters.

"Does it bother you that Dallas may be involved in… you know..."

"Not really," she shrugs. "I don't think life is as black and white as we try to make it."

I quirk an eyebrow at her.

"I just think that it's okay to be gray. Like, people are so quick to jump to a moral high ground because that's what other people are doing, but that doesn't always make it right. From what I know of Dallas, it seems like his intentions are good, and until he does something that makes me question that, I'll ride it out."

"Damn, when'd you get so wise?" I nudge her with my elbow as we take a few steps forward with the line moving.

"Psh," she shrugs. "I always have been."

Drea's words end up on a loop in my head as the line keeps creeping forward. I think I've always known that there was something dark and dangerous about Bowie; that's part of his appeal. But, from what I've seen and what I know of him, he's not some nefarious bastard. He doesn't do anything without purpose. Hell, the first time we met he was quote-on-quote violent, but he was defending me. Maybe the line between black and white has been blurred for a while now.

"Stop thinking so much about it and just enjoy the night," Drea orders as we're washing our hands.

I roll my eyes in the mirror at her. "Yes, mom." Checking my reflection in the mirror, I adjust the button on the jeans that's digging into my lower abdomen, frowning. "You sure I don't look fat in this?"

Even though I've only gained a couple of pounds, all my clothes feel so much more restrictive than they used to. And I can already see that the little definition I did have in my stomach has faded. I guess this is just something else I have to get used to.

"Yes, babe. You look great, trust," she says, holding open the bathroom door for me.

"Okay," I sigh, talking over my shoulder as I step into the hall. "Mind if we stop at the bar, I could use another wat-" I cut off as I crash into someone. "Oops, I'm sorry," I start. "I didn't see… Trey?"

It hasn't even been that long since I last saw him, but the man looks rough. He's lost a bit more weight, his skin more ashen, and he seems to wear black eyes like his favorite accessories now.

"You look like hell." I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth.

Apparently, the run-in shook loose my filter.

He rakes his stormy gray eyes down my body, giving me a once over, and sneers. "You don't look so good yourself. Never was a fan of fat chicks."

His words shouldn't hurt this much, but they freaking do.

I blink away the tears that are pricking behind my eyes and stare at him dumbfounded. My bottom lip quivers, and I just stand there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open.

"What? Now you gonna cry about it, too?" he scoffs. "Dramatic bitch."

Before I can even think about it, the palm of my hand connects with his cheek, delivering a loud slap.

His eyes narrow, the stupid smirk he's wearing falls, and he takes a step closer with his hand raised, calling me a bitch again.

"Hey!" Drea shouts, pushing between us and stabbing a finger in his chest. "She's pregnant, asshole."

That seems to short circuit his anger, because his expression shifts to one of shock and he reaches around to grab me by the bicep. "Wren, is that true?"

"Yeah," I answer, tugging out of his grip.

"C'mon, let's get back to our table," Drea says, tipping her head.

I clock Dallas stalking towards us, but I only make it a few more steps before a hand clamps down on my shoulder and jerks me around.

"When were you gonna tell me you were having my kid?" Trey spits.

And now it's my turn to scoff. "It's not yours."

The jab he landed with his words just a minute ago has flipped around and reversed itself into a smoldering fire building in my belly.

Trey isn't as stupid as he looks, and I see the flicker of recognition in his eyes. "God, don't tell me it's his. You're screwing your boss?"

"You screwed the neighbor, so it's no longer any of your damn business what I do with my body. Now, if you'll excuse me," I say, taking a step to the side, shaking my head at Dallas who is hovering close. "I'd like to get back to my friends."

"You know he's in the mob, right?"

I freeze. But not because Trey's words shock me like he intended them to, but because I want to know how he knows.

Pivoting on my heels, I twist around and fold my arms across my chest. "And how do you know that?"

His lips part, and for a beat, no sound comes out.

"Doesn't matter," he shakes his head. "So, what'd he pay you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Y'know, you get knocked up. He gets an heir, keeps his throne… what's in it for you?"

"What in the actual fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, fuck. You didn't get anything?" He chuckles, scrubbing a hand down his face. "Didn't know you were that desperate for some semblance of family."

I ignore the pang of hurt in my chest, knowing that Trey is just trying to cut me down with his words. It's what he does, but this doesn't feel like one of his schemes.

"Fuck off, Trey."

"You should renegotiate," he suggests, glancing down at my belly. "Looks like you've still got time."

"Okay, I'll bite," I throw my hands up in an exasperated sigh. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about here."

"I thought you were smarter than this, Wren. You don't even know how valuable you actually are for once."

"You're just wasting my time. You don't know shit."

"Maybe I am. Or maybe the word on the street is that Bowie's old man put pressure on him to settle down and have a kid or he'd have to pass his title at the end of the year."

Just like he hoped, Trey's managed to sucker punch me in the gut with this reveal. Bile creeps up my throat as Gabriel's words from dinner echo in my head.

This was just a coincidence, right? You can't purposely knock someone's IUD loose and knock them up. But it could be the reason he wants anything to do with me. Maybe this is why he's happy about the baby, not that it's with me, but that he lucked into a fail-safe to secure his position.

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood coats my tongue to keep the hurt I'm feeling from being broadcast across my face.

"Whatever," I say with a roll of my eyes. "Bye Trey."

"You okay?" Drea asks, draping an arm over my shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Want me to break his hands?" Dallas grumbles, falling into step beside us.

"Easy killer," Drea laughs.

"He's not worth it, Dallas."

"If you say so," he murmurs, leaning back against the same spot he occupied earlier.

I pause beside him as Drea rejoins Cami at the table. "Think you could not tell Bowie about this?"

"Too late," he replies, his tone as nonchalant as ever.

"Of course you already did," I sigh.

Groaning, I kick off the covers and swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Last night, I passed out in seconds. Tonight, on the other hand, sleep is being a real fickle bitch.

I tap the screen on my phone to wake it up. 2:46, cool.

It was almost midnight when we got home. Perry's band finished their set and then spent the next hour or so playing cover requests from the crowd. Cami tried to convince us to go with her and Perry to an after-party, but Drea has to open the bakery in the morning, and at the time, I felt like I could've slept for a week.

How wrong I was.

The moments where my mind managed to stop spiraling and I could close my eyes and drift into a blissful sleep were met with the hyper awareness that the spot beside me was empty.

I've grown used to the way Bowie blankets my body with his or tucks me under his arm and lets me curl into his chest. Even on the nights he came home late, it was easy to fall asleep knowing that when I woke up, one of those corded and tattooed arms was going to be wrapped around me.

Whenever I wanted to snuggle against Trey, he complained. He was too hot or he didn't like my hair near his face or it tickled his chest for me to be breathing there. I eventually stopped trying and caring, another sign that the relationship was probably doomed. I didn't lose a wink of sleep in the first few nights sleeping here alone, but it's a whole other story now.

I hate that Bowie has this much of an effect on me.

Pushing to my feet, I quietly open my bedroom door and pad towards the kitchen. It's dark, but I don't bother with the lights. I know this place like the back of my hand, and I don't want to disturb Dallas. I fill a glass with water from the tap, taking a big gulp before turning around to lean against the counter.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"Fuck!" I shout, body jolting and the glass shattering against the hardwood floor.

"Don't move," Dallas instructs as he flips on the light.

Of course, I don't listen, stepping towards the fridge where the broom is and instantly regretting it as a shard I didn't see embeds itself in the soft flesh of the arch of my foot.

"Shit!" I hiss out in pain, lifting my foot and bracing myself on the counter.

Dallas lets out a string of curses in Italian as he grabs the broom and starts to sweep the broken glass into a pile.

"I told you not to move," he growls.

"I was just trying to help."

He shakes his head mumbling, "Stubborn woman. No wonder he likes you so much."

"He only likes me because I'm having his baby." The words tumble from my mouth in a bitter whisper.

While Dallas disposes of the remnants of the glass from the floor, I raise my foot to remove that piece.

Blood blossoms around the small cut and more bubbles out as I pluck out the offender and hop over to the trash can.

"Sit," Dallas instructs, tipping his head toward the barstool as he holds the first aid kit.

This time, I don't argue with his commands and take a seat.

He hitches up his slacks, crouching down and inspecting my foot. His brows furrow as he tends to my wound in silence.

"It's not true," he says, smoothing out the tape he wrapped around to hold the band-aid in place.

My brow arches in question as he straightens to his full height, reading the confusion on my face.

"About Bowie," he clarifies.

I heave a sigh. "How would you know?"

He folds his arms across his chest. "It's my job to pay attention. And in the years I've worked for him, he's never pursued a woman like he has you."

I'm pretty sure this is the most Dallas has ever spoken to me. Not that we aren't friendly or on good terms, he's usually just quiet with his stoic mask locked in place. I'd wondered if he even talked to Drea or if he just fucked her senseless, but I'm quick to push that thought from my mind.

"You think he'd care the same if I wasn't pregnant?"

"I know he would. There's been a stark change in his demeanor since you came into the fold." He runs a hand through his hair, and more and more, I can see the resemblance between him and Cami. "Look, Wren, for what it's worth, the kid at the club was right about Bowie's dad putting pressure on him. But Bowie would've managed to keep his spot regardless. So don't let his words get to you."

I let his words sink in, silently ruminating on them in the dark as Dallas puts away the first aid kit. After a beat, I slide off the barstool and hook a thumb over my shoulder. "I'm gonna head to bed."

He gives me a curt nod as I hobble off, trying not to put too much pressure on my foot. Pausing in the doorway, I swivel my head back toward the kitchen. "Dallas? Thank you, for all of that."

He grunts in response, a small grin playing at his lips as I head off for Drea's room.

Drea and I are both heavier sleepers, so it's no surprise to find her still fast asleep. Peeling back the comforter, I slip in behind her. Maybe if I'm not alone, I can manage to get a few hours of sleep tonight after all.

"Everything okay?" Drea asks, voice heavy with sleep as she turns over.

"I'm just worried that I'm just accepting things because Bowie gives me the same attention that Trey gave me in the start and I've confused that for love."

"He's better than Trey ever was," she comments sleepily.

"Yeah," I yawn, curling into the pillow and shutting my eyes.

"I think he's in love with you."

My stomach swoops and my heart thunders in my chest. Because I think I'm in love with him, too.