Win or Lose?

EMMA

The journey back home feels like it’s stretching on forever. I’m itching to get back, not just because we’re all exhausted, but because I need to get the conclave sorted out.

This is new territory for me. I wish I could talk to Diablo about it, get some insight on how these things usually go—but I can’t.

Until the meeting is set, Diablo is a no-go zone. Only after that can I start dealing with the mess he’s left behind while I was away.

When we finally reach the penthouse, Levi and Alex head to their rooms. I retreat to mine and pull out my laptop.

I can’t help but check on Diablo. I know it’s not the best idea, but my worry gets the better of me. I switch on the tracker and see he’s at his apartment.

I open the camera app and there he is, sitting on the couch, busily chopping up lines of cocaine. A movement from the kitchen catches my eye, and I instantly regret my decision to check on him.

Carly steps out of the kitchen, wearing one of Diablo’s shirts. It’s pretty clear she’s not wearing anything else.

What the fuck?

She walks over to Diablo, takes a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill from him, and bends down to snort her own lines of cocaine.

After she’s done, she rubs her nose, turns to Diablo, and straddles him. They start kissing passionately.

I can’t watch anymore. This is not what I was expecting.

I knew about the drugs and alcohol. I even suspected he was sleeping with other women—but not Carly, my ex-best friend.

I’ve seen enough. I slam the laptop shut and toss it onto the floor.

I can only blame myself. He didn’t know what I was planning, but the fact that they’d stoop so low as to sleep with each other is beyond belief.

The tears I’ve been holding back for weeks sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. This is my fault. I’m the reason he’s acting this way.

I know Carly is doing this just to hurt me and Travis. It’s typical Carly behavior. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell.

***

The week flies by too quickly. Alex, Levi, and I have been working nonstop to prepare for the conclave this weekend.

On top of that, I’ve been trying to avoid telling Levi something, and trying to avoid running into Diablo and Carly. It’s all taking a toll on me.

It’s hard to avoid them since we live in the same building, but so far, I’ve been lucky.

Business is booming, so I made an offer on the restaurant across the street, which they accepted. The place needs a lot of work and a new menu, but that’ll have to wait until next week.

I bought some football tickets for the boys and me to enjoy next weekend.

They were thrilled because they were the best seats money could buy, right at the 50-yard line behind their favorite team, the Patriots. Even though it wasn’t a home game, they were still over the moon.

I also arranged for us to meet the team after the game—but I kept that part a secret. I want to reward my guys for all their hard work in my own way.

The team will also come to the club for a party afterward, win or lose.

“The Conclave”

I had to close the club to other customers for obvious reasons. Travis was a big help with the arrangements, even though he didn’t know why the club had to be closed or why there were certain dress codes.

Luckily, he didn’t ask any questions. He must have been through this with Diablo before.

I had a black dress made especially for this occasion. It’s a tight, strapless number that hugs my curves just right.

The bodice is made of lace, covering only certain parts of my breasts. The sides are also lace. The dress is so short it barely covers my ass. It’s incredibly sexy, and I love it.

I pair it with black stilettos and minimal makeup, with a pop of red lipstick. I curl the ends of my long black hair and let it flow down my back. I look and feel amazing.

Levi and Alex are dressed in their formal wear. Showing up in casual clothes would be disrespectful, I’ve been told.

We get to the club thirty minutes before the guests are due to arrive, and all three of us check that everything is in order.

As the hostess, I have to greet everyone as they arrive. Memorizing everyone’s names, including their spouses’—or in some cases, their mistresses’—is a daunting task.

Thankfully, I don’t mix up the wives’ and mistresses’ names. I had Alex put together a file for me just in case. I feel incredibly exposed and vulnerable.

Mason is the last to arrive.

The first thing I notice is how handsome he looks in all black. His tie is black too, which only makes his green eyes stand out more. The second thing I notice is that he’s alone, which is surprising.

When he stops in front of me, I have to look up at him to greet him. Even with my heels, he’s still much taller than me.

“Welcome, Mason.” I extend my hand for him to shake, but he has other plans. He leans down and kisses me softly on the lips. My eyes go wide.

“Mason, that’s not appropriate,” I tell him.

“Good evening, Emma. I hope you’ve had a good week,” he says, not bothered by my reaction. “I’m really glad to see you. I hope that after the business part of the evening is over, we can spend some time together to…talk.”

“Sure, Mason. I’ll come find you.”

I have no intention of seeking him out after the decision of who’s the top boss has been made.

As if he can read my thoughts, he simply says he’ll come find me. He walks away with a big smile on his face.

All the spouses and mistresses are escorted to the VIP room by one of the men hired to keep the ladies entertained while the business part of the evening is taken care of.

No point in putting off the inevitable. I pick up one of the microphones to start the meeting. I’m not a fan of public speaking; it’s one of my weaknesses. I clear my throat and start.

“Evening, everyone. Thanks for making time to be here tonight. I’m sure you’re all curious about why you’ve been invited.”

“There’s been some guessing about tonight’s purpose, so let’s put an end to the suspense.” I hear a few chuckles from the men, which I take as a good sign. They all seem to be in a good mood.

“You all know that Mr. Magaddino and I are currently tied for the top spot. You, our respected peers, are here tonight to vote on who gets to be number one.

“According to the rules, none of you knew the reason for this meeting. Your decision is final, and the top spot can only be challenged by the other or any third party a year from today—if there’s a challenger.”

“Following tradition, Mr. Magaddino and I will stand on opposite sides of the room. You’ll vote by standing behind the person you think should be number one for the next year.

“Mr. Magaddino, would you kindly stand on the left side? I’ll take the right. After the votes are counted, we can start the celebrations.”

I turn off the microphone and head to the right side of the club. Mason is already on the left. The other bosses are all standing in the middle of the room.

One by one, they start to move. The first few head straight to Mason, making my heart drop.

Suddenly, it seems like all the men are moving at once. When the middle of the room is empty, Mason and I switch sides to count the other’s votes.

I count the men on Mason’s side, and he does the same on mine.

As the hostess, I have to announce Mason’s count first. I’m dreading his answer. It looks like he has a lot more votes than I do, which doesn’t bode well for me or my plans.

“Mr. Magaddino has twenty-two votes.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the smirk on Mason’s face changes. His lips press into a thin line.

“Miss Taylor has twenty-five votes.”

What! I won? How is that even possible?

Mason walks over to his side, and I return to mine. We double-check each other’s numbers. The counts are correct. I’ve been chosen as number one.

I can’t stop smiling. Elation doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. I’m number one, and I can finally start implementing my plans.

The men disperse as the ladies arrive to entertain them.

I decide to confront the angry man glaring at me. My feet seem to move on their own, and I start walking toward Mason. He’s clearly not happy. I can see the fury in his eyes.

“Congratulations, Emma. You deserve it,” he says with the most insincere smile I’ve ever seen.

“Don’t patronize me, Mason. I know you’re not happy with the outcome, but the truth is, I wouldn’t have been happy if the roles were reversed.”

“Unfortunately, there always has to be a winner and a loser.”

I extend my hand for him to shake. He closes the distance between us, kissing me on my cheek.

“I’m not happy that you’ve dethroned me, Emma, but I’m not a sore loser. You deserve this just as much as I do. Our peers have spoken.”

He spins around quickly and grabs one of the women closest to him. I don’t have time to respond to his words. He starts kissing her aggressively. I can see he’s punishing her for his loss.

I move toward them, pushing hard on his shoulder to get his attention. He stops the kiss; the woman turns to me with a glare.

“What do you want?” he snaps at me.

“Mason, aggression isn’t tolerated in my club. If you want to continue with this behavior, get her consent and she can leave with you. Otherwise, calm the fuck down and have a drink.”

His mouth opens and closes, his loss for words evident. It’s clear no one has ever spoken to him like this before. Turning his back to the woman, who quickly scurries away, he focuses his full attention on me.

“Well, if I can’t have the woman I want, I’ll just have to settle for the next best thing, won’t I?”

“Who do you want, Mason?”

I dread his answer; I’m afraid he’s going to say he wants me.

“You! I want you, Emma. That night at my house when we kissed, it was electric, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. And don’t tell me you didn’t feel anything too.”

The sad part is, I ~didn’t~ feel anything when we kissed. It was nice, but I felt no sparks, no fire in my stomach.

“Mason, please don’t do this. Please don’t put me in this position,” I plead.

“Just admit it, Emma. You must have felt something.”

“I’m sorry, Mason. It was…nice, but I didn’t feel anything.”

His face hardens.

I finally understand the shocked look on his face when I left that night. Mason felt something I didn’t when we kissed.

This can only mean one thing.

Big trouble.