Mafia's Ex Wife

Chapter Four

Jackson

When Lizzie walks in Swank's, a part of me wonders if hell has frozen over. Years ago, when she left, that was the condition she gave for ever setting foot in this place again, and yet here she is.

Back in my life. Back in my club. Back like she never left at all.

Lizzie glances over her shoulder anxiously, probably hoping that no one saw her walk in. If I was her, I would be, too. This place doesn't exactly fit into the bougie-country-club-princess life she's grasping to, and I can only imagine what her high-and-tight husband would think if he found her here.

If he only knew what she was like back in the day. All unruly curls and wild ideas and a body sweeter than sin. A beautiful and all-consuming storm of passion and impulse. Opinionated and feisty and fiercely loyal to those she loved. An absolute force to be reckoned with. She's still as gorgeous as ever, but the Lizzie that's here today is nothing like that girl, and damn, do I miss her.

She looks around the club for me, but in the shadows next to the stage, I'm fairly hidden and I decide to let her sweat a bit. As our hostess approaches her, I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the wall, my eyes set on Lizzie.

The jeans she's wearing cling to every dangerous curve she's got and a black t-shirt hangs off of one shoulder, letting the black lace of her bra peak through. Her dark curls fall over her bare skin, cascading down her chest in perfectly defined spirals—not the tangled mess I remember. She's tense, but even behind those designer shades, she can't hide the captivation in her eyes. There's a part of her that's excited to be back here, and I fucking love that.

"Lizzie." I call out, emerging from my hiding spot. My voice startles her and she jumps.

"Hi." She nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. When she moves her arm, I see the scars just behind her elbow and a wave of fury washes over me like I'm seeing them for the first time. Lizzie follows my eyes and quickly puts her arm back down to hide them, but it's too late. "Sorry I'm late. I had a few errands to run this morning."

By errands, she means that she went to the cemetery. We had Emily's headstone bugged months ago just in case the people responsible showed up and confessed something. Lizzie's been there many times over the last few months, and I've watched her every time, listening to her talk to Emily's grave about old memories and how much she missed her. That's how I knew she'd show up today. No matter how she felt about me, she still loved Emily and this was killing her.

"Why don't we sit down?" I nod to an empty table by the edge of the stage, and Lizzie follows me toward it. I pull a chair out for her and then take a seat across from her. She's nervous, just like she was the first time she showed up at my club eight years ago. Part of me wishes I could go back to that day.

There is so much animosity between us now that it's hard to even imagine the kids we were back then. When I think about who Lizzie and I used to be, it's like watching a movie of someone else's life and I hardly recognize us. It's easy to say that she's changed, but the truth is, so have I. Maybe for the better, but probably for the worse.

"Can I get you guys something to drink?" Gina appears at the edge of the table, balancing a tray of cleaned shot glasses on it.

"Whiskey? Champagne? Blow job shot?" I wink at Lizzie.

She doesn't appreciate my humor, and rolls her eyes. "Whiskey, neat. Make it a double."

"Anything for you, Daddy?" Gina bats her eyelashes at me and I cringe. I'm sure Lizzie is going to love that.

"I'll have the same." I give her a tight smile, not even making eye contact.

Lizzie smirks, arching an eyebrow at me when Gina leaves. "Daddy?"