Page 13 of The Gangster's Girl
And not just any woman. Clay’s woman.
Getting out of bed, I walk over to the closet and it’s already filled with things I’ll need. However it’s not my usual style. No tube tops or shorts, just demure dresses, pants and blouses. A smile crosses my lips. Is this Clay’s way of making sure my butt cheeks don’t hand out anymore?
Sniggering, I put on a flowy dress that strokes the carpet as if it’s a pet as I cross the hallway. Outside Clay’s bedroom, I can’t help myself and I take a peek even though I know I shouldn’t be spying on a sleeping man. To my relief, the door doesn’t creak and Clay doesn’t wake up.
He’s on his stomach, face down and with his arms spread to the sides as if he’s hugging the whole bed. I feel a stirring at the sight of him. His back is amazingly muscular and I flush when I remember how many times I used to piggyback on him and dig my legs into his side to get him to go faster.
Clay would always oblige of course, never saying no to me. He can’t say no to me, that’s the thing. Once Ronnie told me a man’s inability to say no to you means he loves you so much he can’t do anything that could potentially jeopardize the relationship.
And I bet that if I wanted to, I could walk straight out of here, walk back home and he wouldn’t stop me. Rules are rules but I don’t think they apply to me. Biting my lip, I close the door and leave him sleeping in peace.
Down in the kitchen, I pick out all the ingredients I’ll need to make waffles. I want to surprise Clay when he comes down even though I’m about as good at cooking as, well...Clay.
Whipping the batter, I taste some on my finger but nearly choke on it when the door silently opens. I just stand there, probably looking like a deer in the headlights when a guy wearing a baseball cap steps inside. I open my mouth to scream when I realize he probably knows Clay since he had a key.
He seems just as perplexed to find me here and his forehead furrows. “I didn’t know Clay had a daughter.”
Gulping, I shake my head. “I’m not his daughter.”
“Then who the hell are you?” He grins. “You’re too young to be his girlfriend.”
My face heats. “But I am. I am...his.”
The expression on the guy’s face goes from amused to terrified and he twitches when Clay out of nowhere marches into the kitchen, dressed in only a pair of sweatpants and it’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him.
The most furious too and I gulp.
“Uncle Clay who’s this man?” I ask as Clay’s eyes rage and the guy seems confused.
“Uncle?” he blurts before holding up his hands in defense. “Look I meant no harm. I was just dropping off your groceries as usual.” He puts the bag down, a little too roughly and an apple falls out, rolling across the floor. “Sorry.”
“Get out before I put you in a fucking coma,” Clay sneers and I gasp, my hand flying to my throat and I let out a whimper. Clay doesn’t hear it, stalking over to the guy and he takes a knife into his hands. The guy throws an anxious glance at me but he shouldn’t have because it only pisses Clay off. “Don’t look at her. You’re lucky the girl’s here or you would’ve been dead.”
A haze covers my eyes. I can’t believe he’s talking like that. That’sgangstertalk.
And my uncle is no gangster. Or is he...? Maybe those rumors were true.
Noticing my discomfort, Clay puts the knife away, jerking his head and the guy bolts out the door, definitely not looking as tough as he did when he walked inside. The door slams and my eyes hesitantly go to Clay.
He’s squeezing his fists so hard, his knuckles whiten and he takes a couple of deep breaths. I’m waiting for him to apologize. Say something along the lines ofI’m sorry you had to witness thatbecause that’s what he usually does. He always apologizes when he’s done something wrong.
Not this time though and when he looks at me his gaze pierces right through me and makes me run hot and cold. “Did you speak to him?” Clay asks in a low tone and I squirm.
“I answered his questions.”
Clay nods stiffly. “You had a conversation then?”
“Wouldn’t call it t...that.”
“But you allowed him to enjoy your presence?”
My jaw drops. “What would you have me do? Just leave the room as soon as another man enters?”
Clay’s eyes turn emotionless because apparently that’s exactly what he wants. “India, things are different now. You’re mine which means that as soon as someone of the opposite gender approaches you, I need you to scream for your Uncle Clay. Understood?”
In my mind that sounds so unrealistic. “I can’t do that,” I breathe and Clay tenses, his eyes hardening and I pant, “I mean yes...I’ll do whatever you want.”
He eases, the change in him instant and the edginess is gone.