When He Desires: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 1)
When He Desires: Chapter 8

Flurries blow into the dining room, making the scene at the front of the restaurant look like the inside of a snow globe.

The door slams shut behind Rowan.

He brushes the snow off his leather jacket, stomps his boots twice on the welcome mat, and adjusts the black cap he’s got on his head.

I swallow and flatten my palms against the bar top. The man knows how to make an entrance.

He kept his word the evening he moved in. When I woke up the next morning to check the state of his front lawn, the trash was gone.

And he somehow managed to convince Elijah to keep the music down. I’ve gone over there half a dozen times to no avail, but one visit from Rowan, and it’s all sorted.

I mean, I’m not complaining, but I really don’t get how that man manages to wrap everyone around his little finger.

It’s been a few days since he moved in, and so far, he hasn’t done anything more to piss me off, but he also hasn’t crossed anything off the list.

Exactly like I expected. I doubt that fence is ever going to get fixed.

Rowan walks up to the empty hostess stand, and a few heads turn to look at the new visitor.

A table of women giggles. Rowan shoots them a grin and glances around the dining room, searching for a place to sit.

I roll my eyes. The way they fawn over him is pathetic.

Can I admit he’s a fine male specimen? Sure. He’s fit, tall, and attractive. He’s got the kind of smile that promises a good time—even if you’ll likely regret it in the morning—and his eyes light up and get all squinty when he laughs.

But looks aren’t everything.

Doesn’t it bother anyone that he goes through women faster than a kid through Halloween candy? Or that he’s slept with someone’s wife?

Clearly not, because they’re still giggling.

Carly hurries over to welcome him with a menu tucked under her arm and points at a small table by the window, the one I’ve seen him and his business partner sit at before. Rowan looks at it for a beat.

And then he looks at me.

My cheeks heat.

Carly asks him something, and he nods. She steps aside, and he walks past her and heads straight toward the bar.

Straight toward me.

I jump into action, meaning to look busy and not like I was staring.

Pick up the rag. Wipe down the service area. Organize the knives.

A stool scrapes against the floor. “Hey, Sunshine.”

His voice sends electricity zapping down my spine. It’s the most unnerving feeling.

I lift my gaze to him. “No.”

A brow arches. “No?”

“That is the first and last time you’re going to call me that.”

His lips twitch. “But it fits so well.”

“Don’t tell me you drove all the way here just to annoy me. Or did our street lose power too?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“You probably should have stayed home, then.”

He drags his palm over the scruff on his jaw. “Sorry to inconvenience you with my presence, but I’ve got nothing to eat at home. Haven’t had time to go grocery shopping.”

I ignore his snarky remark. “Busy with the house?”

“Very. But don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten your list.”

I hum in response and slide him a menu, certain he’s got my list somewhere at the bottom of his trash can. “You can order from me.”

He picks it up and gives it a quick scan. “I’ll have a bowl of soup, and the burger with fries.”

“You got it.”

“And a coffee.”

Melissa appears next to me. “We just made a fresh pot.”

The enormous smile on her face and the sugary tone fills me with irritation. Guess she’s moved on from Brett. Then again, she’s always been like this. Brett’s gotten angry with her on more than one occasion for flirting with certain customers while ignoring the other tables.

I go to the terminal at the end of the bar to put Rowan’s order in.

“Huh.” I breathe out as a realization hits.

Of course. Brett wasn’t just mad she wasn’t doing her job. He was mad because he was already sleeping with her. And stupid me went as far as to comfort Melissa when she got upset about his scolding.

Anger and humiliation thicken my throat for a long second before I force the feeling away. No need to relive it. But I do need to get the hell out of here before she tries to talk to me again.

I spend the next thirty minutes pouring beers and making drinks, trying to stay focused on the task at hand, but my gaze keeps drifting to Rowan. Carly brings Rowan his soup, then his burger. He eats fast, clearly hungry.

There’s something strangely attractive about seeing him devour his food.

I bite down on my lip and force my gaze away.

I blame Del for all of this. When I talked to her last night, she insisted on sharing more gossip from Aunt Lottie about Rowan’s exploits.

The words “fucks like a beast” may have come up.

When I told Del there’s no way dear old Lottie used that terminology, she laughed and said I should just replace out if it’s true on my own.

That girl needs to get her head checked. There’s no universe in which I’d sleep with Rowan Miller.

But she may have made me just a teeny bit curious. After all, Brett’s the only guy I’ve ever slept with, and our sex life was always focused on his pleasure. Whether I came or not didn’t seem important to him.

Would Rowan be rough or gentle? Serious or fun? Kinky or vanilla?

He removes his jacket, revealing a weathered, gray T-shirt that stretches across his ridiculously broad shoulders. There are tattoos all over his corded forearms.

Hmm. Definitely kinky.

“It’s finally slowing down.”

I jolt at Melissa’s voice. Jesus. I didn’t even hear her come up beside me.

“Everyone’s got their orders,” she says. “They’re just going to linger here until the electricity comes back on.”

That’s my cue to leave. I undo my apron. “Hopefully, it won’t be long.”

Melissa lowers her voice. “Since we’re both stuck here for a while, I think this is a good time to talk.”

Oh. My. God. Why can’t she take a hint?

I ball the apron in my hands. “There’s nothing—“

“Look, I want us to be friends again. It’s totally over between Brett and I. Honestly, I don’t know why I even slept with him. He’s so not my type. I was just lonely, I guess, and I wasn’t thinking. And he said you two were having problems and—“

“Melissa, stop.” Not only do I not want to talk to her, but Rowan is sitting right there. I don’t want him listening in on my business.

Melissa’s bottom lip juts out. “You used to be nicer.”

Yeah, and all the good it did me.

“I’ve got to go,” I mutter and hurry to the back before she can try to stop me.

I need to tell Brett I’m done, and then I’m out of here. When I walk into his office, he’s watching some action flick on his laptop. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I thought he had work to do.

“Everything’s calmed down. I’m leaving.”

He startles. “All done?” His gaze moves to the window. “It’s pretty crazy outside, B.”

“I’ll manage. Good night.”

I walk out of his office and reach for my phone to check the weather, but it’s not in my pocket.

Shit, I think I left it somewhere behind the bar.

Brett follows me back into the dining area. “If you stay until we close, I’ll drop you off.”

Five more hours around Melissa? I’d rather shove an ice pick through my eye. “I’m good.”

I step behind the bar and glance around. Rowan’s still eating, and our gazes snag for a split second before I remember what I’m here for.

Where the hell did I leave my phone?

Ah, there it is, right by the sink.

I grab it and turn around to leave, but Brett blocks my way. “You don’t have snow tires on.”

Annoyance pulses at my temples. He’s right, I don’t. Which is extremely stupid when you live in Missouri, but I thought I had at least another week before the first snow, and my tire chains are sitting uselessly in my shed.

Still, I’ve got to get home. The weather forecast, which is playing on the TV right above me, keeps saying it’s only going to get worse as the night goes on.

“It’ll be fine. It’s only a fifteen-minute drive.”

“It’ll be close to an hour in this weather,” Brett insists. “That is if you even make it in that tiny Honda of yours.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Brett’s brows pinch together. “B, this is crazy, you can’t—“

“I can drive you.”

My head snaps toward Rowan. His expression is unreadable, but when he looks at Brett, there’s something in his eyes that makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand straight.

Rowan presses a paper napkin to his lips, crushes it in his fist, and slides off his stool. “C’mon, Blake.”

Heat skates over my skin. I can’t accept a favor from him. “No, that’s okay.”

“We’re going to the same place.”

He’s…got a point. We live next door to each other.

It’s just a drive. Don’t overthink it.

Pushing away my apprehension, I give him a nod. “Okay. Thank you. I just need to clock out and grab my purse.”

“Take your time.” Rowan grabs his jacket from a hook under the bar and starts putting it on.

In the back, Brett accosts me again. “That guy is not taking you home.”

I put in my locker combination. “Yes, he is.”

“Did you hear what he did with Abigail? The guy’s an asshole.”

I scoff. “You really think you have any moral high ground here?”

Shock flashes across Brett’s face.

What? He didn’t think I’d call him out like that? It’s probably not the smartest thing to do given he’s the one signing my paychecks, but I’m too angry to hold my tongue.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s gotten into you? Your behavior is getting out of hand.”

My behavior. My behavior?

I take a breath. “I’ve just had to work side by side with the woman you cheated on me with. You promised me I wouldn’t have to see her, and you lied. Again.”

“I. Had. To,” he seethes. “Look, I’ll just take you home right now, okay?”

“No, Brett. Rowan is taking me home.” I grab my purse out of the locker and walk over to the timesheet taped on the wall.

Brett hovers behind me as I scribble in the time. I hate how close he’s standing. “You don’t even know that guy.”

“He’s my new neighbor.”

“What? Blake—“

I push past him and through the door to the dining room and—

“Oof!”

I fly straight into a wall. A very firm, very muscular wall. Big palms wrap around my biceps.

“You all right?”

I tip my head back to look at Rowan. He’s so freaking tall that I swear my neck ends up arching up ninety degrees.

God, he smells incredible. Leather. Oak. A hint of smoke, but not the kind that comes from a cigarette. Has he been by a bonfire? A fireplace, maybe? I get the most ridiculous urge to bury my nose into his T-shirt.

He’d definitely reconsider his offer to drive me home if I did that.

“Yes.” My voice comes out like a squeak, and I take a step back. “Sorry.”

His dark hazel eyes spark. “Ready to go?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s your coat?”

I gesture at the rack by the entrance. “Over there.”

“Hold on a second. Blake, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

I step aside and turn to look at Brett. His voice is on the edge of a shout, loud enough to get the attention of a few patrons sitting at nearby tables.

My face starts to burn. Why won’t he drop it?

Rowan steps closer, his shoulder brushing against my own. “Is there a problem here?”

Whoa. I’ve never heard him use that tone before. It’s the kind of tone that warns there better not be a problem, or else.

Impotent anger flashes in Brett’s eyes. I see how he sizes Rowan up, and my neighbor’s definitely got the size advantage.

“No,” Brett snaps.

Rowan smiles. I didn’t think a smile could be threatening, but his certainly is. “Good. Then we’ll be on our way.”