Chapter 28: Acceptance (Ace's POV) I sat in the chair across from Wilson, catching my breath. I looked down at my knuckles, which were still bloody, and then looked up at his face, which was twice as bloody. Tonight I thought, let's give what my wife said a try, let's play nice. Again. And what do you know, it worked for a while. But when the questions got too difficult for the asshole, he started lying. And I started getting angry, so then I started hitting and beating. Then I stopped. After just a few punches, I stopped myself. But the questions were now different. The questions were: Why the fuck were you at my wife's office? How dare you show up at my wife's office? And who told you that you could go to her office? And this, stupid gentleman here thought the right answer was he was looking for me and could go wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted to whoever he wanted. His exact words were, "Why? What's so fucking wrong with it, Ace? I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want to whoever I want. Even your pretty little wife. I bet she'd do it too since she's too stupid to understand our world." And if he answers me like that, then why would I stop the punches and kicks that I was throwing at him? So, I didn't. I would have blown his brains out with a bullet if I could. I didn't though. I just settled for a shot in the leg. I grabbed the black towel from the bowl of cold water and wiped my hands clean, tossing it on the floor once I finished. "Now, Wilson. Let's come back to my money. You, sir, have one more week. And you already know what happens otherwise. All the people we're still protecting you from, all the people we're paying for you, all the people we're protecting your son from… It'll stop, my friend. Your son is no little child, he's a grown, twenty-five-year-old man. You pulled him into your mess, learn to protect him on your own. And give me my money on time. Your brains or your son's, I really don't care. You're free to go." He scoffed dryly, standing up while trying to balance himself. He limped out and went downstairs where I knew Nicholas was waiting. Nicholas is our family doctor if you will. Business doctor, maybe? He takes care of my dad and me in case of any injuries but also of the people I beat the shit out of. Because I still need my clients alive and healing so I get my money. That's what matters, at the end of the day. I sighed, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling while I heard the door open and Owen walk in. "Will you head home now? I'll have the mess that is this room cleaned." I could smell the bleach in the janitor's bucket. I stood up, grabbing my jacket but not bothering to put it on. I sat in my chair, looking at the bruises and cuts on my knuckles and the blood from them which was mine, not Wilson's. "Go ahead and clean. I never leave the office to you, tonight isn't different. I'll be the one to lock up. Go ahead. Clean." I shrugged. Owen came and sat in the chair across from me and the cleaner of our club started cleaning. I winced a little, stretching my fingers. "Do you want a first aid kit?" "No, I'll be fine. What is it, Owen? Spit it out." I looked up at him. "Look at you." I looked down at myself. The black button-up I had on was concealing stains of Wilson's blood, my sleeves were rolled up to elbows, keeping it out of the way, and I had some of my own cuts and bruises on my hands and forearms. "What?" "What does Mrs. Allister think about this?" He leaned forward, spinning the glass ball paperweight like a Beyblade. "Mrs. Allister isn't part of this world and I want it to stay that way." He chuckled dryly. "Then I'm afraid Mrs. Allister married the wrong man." I clenched my jaw, glaring at him. "How is she going to deal with it, Ace? She hates this life, doesn't she? I cannot believe she married you." "I think you forget I'm your boss." "I think you forget I only manage your club, that's my official job, and sir, the club is now closed. It's almost five in the morning. And we close at four o'clock." I rolled my eyes, glancing at the clock. "Are you coming in tomorrow?" he questioned. "I'll be here later. By noon." "All right. Can I ask, were you expecting her to drop by today? Or did she surprise you?" "She surprised me. Why?" He shook his head, putting his paperweight back where it belonged. "I just think she really likes you. And I think she's learning acceptance." "Acceptance about what?" "About who you really are and what you really do." He eyed me carefully. "But you haven't let her in yet, have you? So she doesn't know who you really are. Am I right?" "Absolutely. It's too soon. She could be after me with a motive." "What motive? Because you killed her brother? Please, she doesn't hold it against you, you're blind to not see it," he scoffed. "She was nineteen, way too innocent and naive to understand what was really going on, and anyway, she doesn't have a clue what her brother did to you." "And she won't know, Owen. Don't let anything slip out of your fucking mouth." "Don't tell me what to do, Ace. I'm a club manager, that's it." "You're my fucking friend, Owen. And you were there when it happened." "So was she. And she saw what her brother wanted her to see. And she knows what you want her to know. If she comes to me asking for the truth I have every right to decide for myself. She deserves honesty, Ace. She's trying her best. Respect that, man." "All clean, sir." We both looked up at the cleaner. "You can leave," I nodded. He left and we followed with me locking up the office behind me. "Let's open late tomorrow. Ask all the staff not to come in before noon, okay?" "All right," Owen sighed. I left after that, getting in the car and driving back home. I parked the car and dialed the code, letting myself in and tiptoeing up to our room. I pushed the door open quietly and closed it just as softly, but when I turned around, she flicked the bedside lamp on. I froze, putting my forehead against the door, cursing under my breath. "Welcome home, hubs," she sang, clearly as a taunt. I turned around, leaning against the door, and watched her. She chuckled, grabbing the book and glasses off her nightstand and putting them on, holding the book. "I made a bet with myself saying you'd be home before six. And I won." She smiled at me before looking down at the book, reading. She was wearing bright pink pajama shorts with a black camisole. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun and she had on reading glasses with thin, round, black frames. She pulled one knee in, resting her elbow on it while holding the book in her other hand, biting her cuticles as she read. "Oh!" She slammed the book shut. "I put a change of spare clothes in the bathroom and heated the water for you. You should shower. I'm guessing you're bloody." I watched her in confusion. She's being awfully understanding about my job all of a sudden, it's weird and suspicious too. "What?" she asked, kneeling and then crawling to the foot of her bed, still on her knees. She sat there, her glasses still on. "Nothing. You just seem awfully okay with what I do, considering I just came home bloody." "I hate what you do but I have no right to ask you to change it or stop. But I don't want my husband getting anywhere near me or in our bed bloody or with all that tension and grumpy mood. So shower, wash it all off, the blood and the grumpiness, and then get in bed." She's my wife, but she's telling me what to do and I can't decide if I like that or not. "And if I don't?" "Then I'll leave and sleep in another room, hubs," she sang, grinning. "Really?" I walked over, stopping right in front of her. Her nose scrunched up and she looked down at my clothes. "At least the black hides the blood." Her eyes stopped at my knuckles and she frowned, grabbing my hands and bringing them forward. "Clean those." "It's not necessary." "Yes, it is. It'll get infected. Clean it. Before I douse them in alcohol." I watched her carefully, biting on the inside of my cheek to keep my smile hidden. "No?" She looked at me daringly. I shook my head, my lips forming into a smile. She walked around me, climbing off the bed and going into the bathroom, squatting and grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink. She put it on the counter and grabbed cotton balls and antiseptic. "Come here," she mumbled, ripping the cotton into smaller pieces. I walked over, standing beside her, leaning on the counter so I was facing her. "Take the shirt off. You're going straight in the shower after I clean those." I started unbuttoning the shirt and then shrugged it off, tossing it into the hamper. She grabbed my wrist hand first, gently dabbing the cotton over the cuts. Then I winced loudly, just to scare her. She jumped, barely catching the cotton before it fell. "You!" She hit my arm, a frown on her face, her brows furrowed above her glasses. I laughed, grabbing her by the waistband of her shorts and pulling her forward. "That's not fucking funny, Allister!" She scolded through gritted teeth. "But it was," I teased, leaning in. "It was not!" "It was," I smirked, leaning in further. "It was not," she said slowly, grinding her teeth. I smiled, "But it was." I leaned in further, my nose nearly brushing against hers. She pressed the cotton onto an open cut firmly and it burned like a bitch but I didn't react. She stopped immediately. "That had to hurt." I nodded, my smile still intact. "It did." "Sorry," she pouted, bringing my hand up and cleaning it nicely, blowing on it as she did so, making it burn a lot less. After cleaning both my knuckles, she tossed the cotton and closed the first aid kit. "There. Go shower now. Try not to get soap on those, but I bet you will, so…" She sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose in an adorable way. "Good luck. Bye." She turned to leave. I grabbed her arm, quickly pulling her back and spinning her around. "Yes, Allister?" She stared up at me, biting back a smirk. "Are you smirking at me?" I chuckled. "No," she shook her head innocently. I grabbed her by the throat but my grasp was as gentle as it could be. "You're into weird shit," she laughed, shaking her head while I brought my lips to hers. "Don't act like you don't fucking like it, Phoenix," I grinned before my lips met hers in a kiss. She grabbed my arm, kissing me back just as quickly. Acceptance or not, I don't know what she's doing. But I like it. . . . . . Chapter 28