I’m leaning over the vanity, applying clear lip gloss and giving myself a thorough examination, when several girls enter the toilet block. They freeze when they see me. It’s as if I have a ‘kick me’ sign on my forehead. I glance at them sideways while continuing to check my hair and makeup. They whisper to each other before separating into different cubicles.
After adjusting my little baby-blue dress, I comb my fingers through my hair, puffing it up to add volume. I feel like a big fake. I don’t know why I care so much right now about being perfect. It’s just – I haven’t been out on a real date with Max in the District before tonight and everyone already thinks he’s too good for me.
The girl in the mirror looks happy though.
I am happy.
Sometimes I feel guilty that I’m so happy given the moral compass of the man who inspires it. But most of the time, I don’t. As nervous as it makes me, I accept my boyfriend is a gangster.
I accept the gun.
I accept what he does with it.
I trust in his character enough to believe he’ll make the right decisions for his family. Because in the end they are all that matter. His family and mine. Him and me. Max is beautiful, just a little broken at the moment, but I believe one day he’ll go straight.
As the girls leave their stalls one by one, scrutinising me so obviously, I sigh aloud. Collecting my gloss and purse, I leave them to gossip about me in peace.
I can feel Max’s eyes following me as I move across the room, so I catch his gaze. Feigning a flirtatious walk, I exaggerate my strut, my hips swaying pendulously and over the top. He laughs, and that’s why I’ll never be cool. He likes me as I am.
I slide in beside him on the booth seat.
So relaxed.
He’s dressed in a dark-blue shirt and black vest tonight, looking like a powerful young man. Resting his thick tattooed arm on top of the seat, he plays with my hair and neck as we watch the live jazz band on stage. I sip my port while Max nurses a whiskey. I’ve never been here before, but Max had thought I’d love it due to the music and, of course, the elaborate menu.
It reminds me of a 1950s club where live music and fine dining collide. It’s loud, active, vibrant, and classy. The Minister for Agriculture is sitting a booth over from us. It’s a scene.
It’s elite, I suppose.
And fun.
My favourite Frank Sinatra song comes on – ‘The way you look tonight’. Max keeps his fingers moving on my shoulder and neck and hair. I glance at him and he grins at me and mouths the words in time to the song. I’m in heaven. If I could feel any more love right now, I’d die of a heart attack.
Max’s nose touches my ear. His breath cascades over my neck, making my skin hot. While I’m trying to concentrate on the music, his tongue feathers the shell of my ear. My knees press together at the exact time he turns towards me. His left hand slides between my thighs and hikes my knee up onto the cushion. Fingers move inside my knickers. Up into me.
‘Max. No,’ I whisper, smiling and breathless.
I turn my back to the other tables, hiding his hand and my face from everyone’s view. He fingers me slowly, curling in the right spot. I try to pretend it’s not happening, but I want to drop my head onto his shoulder and moan.
His fingers move around, touching every sensitive spot as if he has a road map for each nerve ending. Oh God, I can’t restrain myself. Shamelessly, I roll my hips into his fingers, taking more of what I need from them.
I’m halfway through a soft moan when he jerks his hand from between my legs. His knuckles hit the underside of the table, rattling glasses. Startled, I look up at him, but he’s glaring over my shoulder. Cheeks burning, I glance over to see a man standing behind me, shuffling nervously beside our table. I hurriedly turn my eyes back to Max.
‘Sorry, Max,’ the man begins. ‘But there’s someone I think you’ll want to see in the cigar lounge.’
Max holds the arch of my neck. ‘Are you fucking crazy? Can’t you see I’m here with my girl?’
‘You’ll want to see him,’ he presses.
‘I don’t!’ Max puts the two fingers that were just inside me into his mouth and sucks on them, all the while glowering at this other man. I don’t know if the man knows what Max had been doing but I cover my face with my palms, smothering a mortified smile. I peak through my fingers at Max. He grins at me and I shake my head with a giggle.
Menace.
Max then dips those two fingers into his whiskey, swirls them around, and drains the glass. ‘I’ve got better things to do. Go get me another drink.’
Shuffling nervously, the guy presses, ‘You told me to look out for him. . . Remember? When you got back-‘
‘Yeah alright. Alright. Fine. Send Nina over here to sit with Cassidy.’
My heart jumps into my throat. ‘Max, no. Where are you going?’
He tries to scoot me from the booth so he can leave. ‘I won’t be long. Five minutes.’
I refuse to move. ‘Don’t. I don’t want you to.’ I prepare myself for a scolding, but instead he once again glowers at the man behind me. With quick steps, the man walks away, leaving us alone. Max’s expression is soft and playful now, and I have all of his attention.
His hand massages my neck and shoulder. ‘Five minutes, little one.’
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘What could you possibly need to do right now?’
He grins at me and tilts his head. ‘Little one, I’ll be five minutes. How much trouble can I cause in that time? Clock me.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Fine, menace. But then you have to dance with me.’
‘Do you think I wasn’t already going to?’
‘Really? You were going to dance with me? In front of everyone?’
‘Why are you surprised? I’m a fucking majestic dancer.’
I laugh and he slides out from the table. As he follows the other man into a room behind the bar, I sigh. He knows exactly how to work me.
A tall barmaid with burnt umber hair wanders over to me and sits on the opposite side of the booth. ‘I was told to sit with you. I’m Nina.’ She rubs her hands down her apron as she smiles sweetly in my direction. With a cute pleated upper lip and violet-blue eyes that are circled by dark lashes, she is very attractive.
I cross my legs. ‘Okay, well you don’t have to if you don’t want to.’
She nods. ‘Yes, I do.’
‘Okay.’ I bite my lip idly. ‘What’s back there?’
She tilts her head towards the door, questioningly. ‘There? The cigar lounges.’
‘Cool. Can anyone go back there?’
She leans on the table and taps her nails. ‘No. It’s just for VIPs.’
I feel a wave of excitement. ‘Can I go back there?’
Her lovely eyes shift around. ‘I guess. You’re with Max.’
A wicked grin takes over my face. ‘So I could get up right now and walk in there and you’d let me?’
She sighs. ‘Yes. I don’t know why you’d want to though.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s just full of businessmen talking shop. And skimpies. Not the right place for a girl like you.’
I blink at her. ‘Excuse me? A girl like me?’
‘Calm down.’ She shuffles slightly and her breasts move beneath her shirt, voluptuous and heavy. She’s striking. I imagine outside of her work attire, she’d be a showstopper. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you. You’re Max’s date. He’s not back there to see them. He’s out here with you. You’re better than them and he’s very protective of you.’
I try to listen to the intent and appreciate the words, but I can’t help but feel uneasy when a total stranger gives me insight into my boyfriend’s intentions and feelings. ‘I’m sorry, what?’
She smiles despite my tight face. ‘He will want to keep the world beautiful for you.’
‘What?’ I sip my port. ‘How do even know this?’
‘Because I can tell. I’ve known Max for a very long time.’
My brows draw together. ‘How long?’
She’s had sex with my boyfriend.
I feel sick.
She deflects my question. ‘When you see men drunk and surrounded by women who will do anything to get their favour, you see things that make you realise how perverted the world is. How sick men can be. He doesn’t want to taint you with that scene. But clubs that bring in an aristocratic demographic also need a private retreat for them to handle their business. That’s the cigar lounge.’
I roll my eyes and wrap my arm around my stomach protectively. ‘I’m not a delicate little flower. I know men.’
Her head tilts. ‘Do you?’
I swallow. ‘Yes.’
She smiles at me again. ‘You don’t know these men.’
My arm tightens around my stomach as it rolls with nausea. ‘How well do you know Max?’
‘Very well. I used to live next door to them,’ she states emphatically. ‘For many years.’
‘And?’ I stare at her questioningly. ‘You’ve slept with my boyfriend.’
She laughs. ‘No.’
‘Why don’t I believe you?’
She laughs louder. ‘I used to sleep with Bronson. Not Max.’
Suddenly, I can breathe again and the wave in my belly calms. Bronson. ‘Oh. Wow. What happened?’
She shrugs and tries to smile, but her forehead is tight as if she’s forcing it. ‘Nothing. He just never really liked me.’
‘Oh.’ I sigh and feel a tingle of compassion for her. The Butcher Boys are addictive. If my love for Max was unrequited – and maybe it is – I’d never be a whole person again after we split. I find her sad, but resolute gaze. ‘But you liked him.’
She laughs as she flicks her hair around. ‘Liked? I’m still in love with that crazy son of a bitch.’
‘In this case you actually can call her a bitch too!’ The words just tumble out.
We both laugh and share a knowing grin that only girls in love with a Butcher boy could understand. That love is consuming. I’m sure Bronson is just as intense to be in love with as Max. Just as overwhelming. ‘Go find him. He’s single!’
She releases a little sigh, but a smile still plays on her lips. ‘He’ll probably always be single.’
I nod. ‘I’ve noticed. He’s alone a lot.’
‘He’s a romantic and has never been able to see past Shoshanna.’
I lean across the table. ‘Who is Shoshanna?’
Her mouth drops open. ‘You don’t know about Shosh?’
Max clears his throat and his shadow is suddenly blanketing us. ‘Shosh is my brother’s business. And you, little one, owe me a dance.’
I look up and scrutinise him, searching for something that would tell me what he’d been doing. . . Like blood. But the dark colours he’s wearing camouflage any trace of an altercation.
Smiling, he offers me his hand. When I take it, he pulls me to my feet, bands an arm around my middle, and lifts me onto my tippy toes. I kiss him deeply.
Then we walk onto the dance floor. As the music turns slow and romantic, I envelop his waist with my arms, cuddling him as we sway.
‘What did you just do?’ I ask as I listen to his heart beating on the other side of my ear.
He holds me to him, both arms around my shoulders, a hand stroking the back of my head, his fingers running through my hair. ‘Remember that picture of us on Twitter?’
‘How could I forget?’ I say, breathing slow and heavy in rhythm with his heartbeat. ‘My brother had a nervous breakdown.’
‘Remember some of the comments? Specifically, the ones about you and other guys?’
I exhale in a rush. ‘Yes.’
‘I’ve been making sure that they don’t do that again.’
‘Max.’ I blink into his shirt. ‘You said to forget about it.’
‘No. I said for you to forget about it. I took care of it. Did you honestly think I’d let some random guys say the things they had and not have words with them?’
I have no answer to that question, but I’m suddenly reminded of the random text messages I’d received. It’s probably not a good idea to ever tell Max. . .
Sighing against him, I listen as the jazz band plays a smooth tune and the blonde girl on stage sings about Chicago in the fall. Her voice is sweet and melodic. A perfect match to this fairytale setting. Even after we’d made our relationship official, I’d never imagined moments like this. In the open. For all eyes to see. I’d accepted a kind of hidden, secret love affair with Max Butcher. This is so, so much better.
‘Have you had other girls tell you they love you?’ I ask even though I already know the answer. How could they not?
I feel his sigh through his chest. ‘Yes’
‘And did you ever tell them you loved them back?’
His fingers tighten in my hair slightly. ‘What are you doing, little one? Don’t you think if I had, you would have heard it as well?’
‘No.’ I squeeze his waist. ‘I don’t know.
‘Look at my actions, little one. I’m telling you every fucking day how I feel with my actions.’
Shaking my head against his chest, I grow disappointed in myself for bringing this up now. After what Nina had said about Bronson, I suppose I just want to hear Max say he returns my feelings. I want him to say he loves me. ‘Does it mean anything to you that I love you?
‘Of course it does.’ He holds me away from him, cradling my head with his hands. Lifting my chin, he looks into my eyes. ‘It means everything to me. Why are you asking me this shit?’
‘But you’ve heard it before,’ I say.
He smiles as if that is the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. Shaking his head, he pulls me back into his chest and sways with me. ‘From girls who don’t know me. They love it when I’m inside them. They love my cock, not me.’
‘You express a lot when you’re making love, Max. I feel sick when I think about you with other girls,’ I say as I cuddle him tighter.
‘They’d never meant anything. And I definitely didn’t make love to them.’
‘You still gave a piece of yourself to them,’ I say. Those words alone make me feel ill, but he doesn’t seem to understand. ‘Don’t you see that? Don’t you see me? Don’t you see me when we make love?’
I feel the rumble of his growl. ‘Yes, I see you. But I’m looking.’
‘They do too. They see you. What if you weren’t my first? This other person would have seen me like that. Wouldn’t that bother you?’
His back gets very tight beneath my fingers. ‘Come here,’ he whispers and entwines our fingers. He pulls me towards the door he’d entered earlier. The door shuts behind us and it must be soundproof because I can’t hear the girl singing anymore.
Curious, I look down the hall. A rich-red carpet leads to an ominous door. Mirrors hang on the walls. Max directs my gaze back to him as he presses me into the wall.
He lifts my chin, his eyes dilating as they fix on me. ‘What do you want from me? I can’t not have sex with all those girls. It’s done.’
‘I know.’
‘So what do you want?’
‘I just want. . .’
‘Let’s get really serious, little one. That’s really what you want, isn’t it? This is how I feel.’ He points at the door. ‘Out there you’re Cassidy Slater. Ballerina. You’re a fucking angel.’ Both of his palms press onto the wall on either side of my head. ‘But with me, you’re my Cassidy Slater. You do all the things you won’t speak aloud. You let me use your sweet little body for my dirty pleasure. And the other night, you fucked me, Cassidy.’ His hands flex on the wall as his lips meet my ear and I nearly stop breathing. ‘It does things to me, thinking about you being that Cassidy with someone else. I’m the only guy to taste you. To make you come. I filled you the other night and it felt like a goddamn religious experience. I may not tell you I love you, but I’m a scary kind of possessive over you, Cassidy. So do us both a favour and don’t ask me how I’d feel if you were with another guy unless you want me to lose my fucking mind.’
And my breath leaves me in rush.
Cupping his cheeks, I pull him close for a quick, soft kiss. ‘I’m sorry. I was unfair.’ We breathe slowly together. ‘I just wanted to hear you say the words. That’s all.’
He moves into my caress, tight-faced, teeth grinding. ‘It’s not that-‘
‘You’ve said everything I need to hear. Keep telling me through your actions, Max.’
Suddenly frowning, Max turns his head towards the door at the end of the hallway. I look over to see Jimmy standing with his arms wide and welcoming.
‘Cassidy,‘ he coos. ‘What a lovely sight you are. Max, you’ve been keeping her from us.’
Max stands up straight. ‘I’m not taking her back there.’
‘No, of course not,’ Jimmy states, appearing confused by Max’s tone. ‘It’s not suitable for your bedda girlfriend. But you have to bring her tomorrow night. You have told her about the auction, se?’
Max shakes his head. ‘She’s busy.’
‘Oh, Max. No.’ He walks towards us, his black coat swaying, the harness underneath peeking out slightly – purposefully. ‘I have the perfect piece for her to showcase. You know the one with the half carat Diamante rosa? Se. Bring her? Piffavuriii? Who could resist it after seeing it around her neck?’
I study Max’s stern expression as he says, ‘She’s busy, Jimmy.’
My feigned smile widens and I bat my lashes at Jimmy sweetly. ‘I have a family dinner,’ I lie.
He claps his hands together in front of him. ‘Nun m’anteressa. I really must insist.’
