Page 29 of Possession
Big dick energy to the power of Jesus.
It doesn’t get any bigger than that.
With the back and forth between the men at the table and through my tipsy state, all of a sudden, I can’t take my eyes off Eliza.
I didn’t see it before.
Until now, the talk has been about Damian. Between the brewing war between the Marinos and Lazadas, and the wedding fiasco, the Marino family is afraid to congregate again so soon. It’s been decided that the funeral will be in San Diego. Damian was, after all, a prominent businessman here.
Albeit an asshole, but he’s known to most of the world who doesn’t play in the dark shadows as a successful man who broke away from his father’s drug dealings. No one has been able to prove otherwise. My father talked about it all the time.
He was even jealous of how Damian managed to do it.
But Eliza Decker hasn’t said a word other than when we were introduced or to thank our servers. She’s not just submissive. This is different.
She’s downright fearful.
I shouldn’t care about Eliza Decker. It’s the wine. I know it is. I have enough on my plate to worry about her, but right now I do.
I can’t help but wonder if this is my future. I have a feeling it would have been had Damian lived, and I don’t know Boz at all. He could go off half-cocked at a moment’s notice.
I look into her sad brown eyes. “Are you okay?”
Boz immediately pulls me tighter to his side.
Ed tenses, and Eliza’s eyes flare as she whispers, “What?”
Ed does not whisper. He growls. “She’s fine.”
I don’t take my eyes off Eliza. “You haven’t looked fine all night.”
Eliza gives her head small, quick shakes. “No, I’m fine—”
“Is her pussy that sweet that you’re afraid to control your own wife? If you want to do this job, be a fucking man, Boz,” Ed thunders.
Boz doesn’t try to shut me up or control me. He gives me the tiniest hope that, if this is the life I’m stuck in, I lucked out with a husband who is nothing like Damian or the man sitting across the table from us who won’t allow his wife to speak.
My husband shifts in his seat, but never lets me go when he produces a handgun from inside his sport coat.
Eliza gasps when it hits the table. I tense, but Boz’s arm constricts around me even more, gluing my back into the crook of his arm and chest.
Boz palms the gun nonchalantly, but there’s nothing casual about his index finger that flirts with the trigger.
And the barrel is pointed across the table straight at Ed.
Ed tries to move quickly, but he’s older, rounder, and not at all spry.
I wonder if he ever was.
The butt of his own weapon stuffed inside his jacket peeks out, but before he can draw to match Boz, three men enter the room in a rush—two from the kitchen and one from the entryway.
All with guns.
And all are drawn on Ed.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Ed balks.
Boz’s tone is low and deep. I feel every word rumble through my body. “Say one more fucking thing about my wife, I’ll take you out into the Pacific myself, but only one of us will return. I gave you a warning, and you still ran your mouth. Try me again and you’re dead. I don’t want to know what goes down in your bedroom, so stay the hell out of mine. While I’m running the family business in the U.S., Landyn is the queen of this house, and you’ll fucking treat her like one.”
