Pretty good response to the last chapter. My views/reviews ratio is still pretty low. I need y'all to get your shit together.

Also, I got a good DM question the other day: Where is Titan City? Imagine there's an island similar to Manhattan just north of there. It's like New York City's "twin", like Metropolis and Gotham. It's of comparable size and population.

Also, Seth Rollins sucks. Not in this story. In real life. He's a garbage promo with no charisma. Just so y'all know.

Finally, there are rumors that Dean Ambrose is leaving WWE. That will not affect this story. I hope he goes somewhere that understands what a star he is.

Chapter 8: Under New Management

Alberto Del Rio was a man who'd gotten used to a certain level of respect from those in his employ. His driver, Ricardo, was a kid from the same small town outside Puebla, Mexico, that Del Rio himself had come from, and who'd made the long trek to Titan City with him. Most men in Alberto's position wouldn't treat his driver with the respect Alberto treated Ricardo with, but then most of them didn't go back as far as Alberto and Ricardo did. Alberto considered him family, and treated him as such.

As his crew gathered in conference room "A" of the Tunney Hotel, Del Rio took a mental roll call in his head. Rusev had just arrived, nursing what appeared to be a rather fierce hangover from the night before. Del Rio chuckled wryly. He'd never figured out what Rusev had done right to end up married to a woman as beautiful as Lana. Alberto himself had tried to date her some years back, when she was a prima ballerina with the Titan City Ballet, but the exquisite blonde would have none of it. It was sometimes hard for the extremely vain Del Rio to get over the fact that Rusev had something that he'd wanted, but the handsome Latino managed to console himself with the company of any number of exotic dancers employed by his gentleman's club, Destiny.

Behind Rusev was Colin Cassady. He was the Bulgarian man's second in command, handling the inventory and distribution of all the narcotics Del Rio trafficked into Titan City through its expansive dockyards and shipping operations. Colin was still sporting the remnants of bruises all over his face and body, the trophies of an encounter with one of TCPD's finest, though Del Rio never got the full story. Based on the way Colin conducted himself the night before, cavorting with at least two high end prostitutes, Del Rio guessed he'd finally broken it off for good with his wife. "I might give her a call," Alberto mused to himself inwardly.

Next to Cass was Enzo Amore. Alberto rolled his eyes at the sight of the bleach blonde, extravagantly dressed caricature. As much as Alberto hated Enzo personally, however, he needed the flamboyant young italian. Enzo was what was known in Alberto's organization as a "Floor manager," who at times would operate one of the strip clubs or supervise one of the street corners narcotics were dealt on. All the corner boys feared Enzo, and he organized them with ruthless efficiency. As bad as Del RIo would love to run Amore over with his limo, the short guido provided a valuable service to his organization, and Alberto begrudgingly respected it.

Several other assorted men of some notoriety in Del Rio's organization sauntered through the doors to the conference room in the next few minutes. Brodus Clay, Matt Bloom, Mojo Rawley, all men who'd shed blood and spilled the blood of others for his syndicate.

"Gentlemen," Alberto began, drawing the attention of everyone in attendance. "Today marks the beginning of a new year." His heavy Spanish accent became more noticeable with every syllable. "In the last eight months, our small enterprise has become one of the most prominent movers of product in the nation." As was the case with all purveyors of illegal goods, Alberto never actually said what it was he was selling, or how much he made selling it. "And because Wade and his associates are moving into less...how do I want to put it...perishable goods, I don't see any reason why we can't take it even farther this year."

A small cheer broke out from amidst the ranks of his men, followed by some clapping.

Alberto continued, clearly feeling himself from the cheers he was getting from his associates. "Which is why we will be opening a second gentlemen's club on the west side of Titan City. Right here," he continued as he pointed to a giant map behind him. Enzo Amore, who often mumbled in a stream of consciousness, couldn't help himself.

"Destiny West….Westiny?...Breastany?...Breast Western!"

The meeting broke up into laughter at the last suggestion. Even Alberto, who found himself less and less patient with the antics of his crew, chuckled at the remark.

"Enzo, my friend, you have a way with words." Alberto cleared his throat, signalling to the assemblage that it was time to focus again. " I trust you will help me audition some dancers for my new establishment?"

"How you doin'?" Enzo replied enthusiastically. Alberto snickered amicably, knowing that that phrase was one the tiny Italian used to purvey enthusiasm or otherwise answer in the affirmative. Del Rio chortled again before returning to his speech.

"We will be using Destiny West, or whatever name we decide on, as a base of operations for that half of the city. Some of you will be coming with me tonight to help with the sale of Barrett's product to us."

"What is he getting in return?" Broadus Clay piped up from the back of the room.

Del Rio chuckled again. "In return, we will be buying our product, raw, directly from his supplier. He will still get a percentage of everything we do, and we will buy weapons and ammunition only from him as well."

Heads around the room nodded. "Is there anything else?"

After another moment, and some insignificant small talk, the meeting dispersed. Everyone had their assignments. Enzo, Cass, and Matt Bloom took a ride to the west side of Titan City to take a look at the building they'd purchased, while everyone else set about their tasks with grim determination and a dogged sense of purpose. Alberto Del Rio was a ruthless, hardened criminal, but working for him did have its' privileges, and one of those, an upcoming stripper audition, was exactly why they toiled the hours they did for the cutthroat ganglord.

Commitment wasn't something Dean Ambrose had expected to take up so soon in the new year. He'd actually actively avoided it altogether until December, when the fiery haired Irish dynamo had set his world on fire. And she had set him on fire. In every conceivable way except the literal sense. Even now, while she laid sound asleep under his arm, he could feel his heart skipping beats.

She'd promised she'd "blow his mind." And she'd more than delivered. They hadn't even made it to the bedroom. They'd engaged in intense foreplay in the elevator on the way up to Becky's suite, then fumbled with lights and clothing for several minutes. She'd asked him to figure out how the gas fireplace worked while she slipped into something "more comfortable." Initially, Dean snickered at the outdated cliche for "putting on 'fuck me' clothes," but upon gazing his eyes at the result, he'd decided that Becky could call whatever she just did anything she wanted, so long as she looked as alluring and appetizing as she did at that moment..

She sauntered back into the suite's sitting room just seconds after Dean had gotten the fire to a satisfactory roar. The second he set his gaze upon her, his breath left him. Her body was adorned with a black corset and matching underwear. This particular article of clothing set off her hips and legs, which Dean had decided earlier in the week were his favorite thing about his girlfriend's body. It took hours of running his hands over all eligible contestants for Dean to come to this conclusion, but he'd come to a somewhat firm decision on that.

And speaking of "firm," Ambrose couldn't help but notice how every section of Becky's figure appeared positively exquisite in the glowing firelight. She slowly strode towards him, leveling him with the most molten gaze Dean had ever seen in anyone's eyes.

"You like?" She asked, not particularly interested in any verbal answer he had to offer in response.

"I love," Dean managed to choke out, before Becky simply devoured him, her lips feasting on his as soon as he could get the words out.

Their first night of intimacy together exceeded any reasonable expectation Dean might've had. She'd given her new mate what she called the "royal treatment." Her head had bobbed up and down enthusiastically in his lap as he leaned back as far as he could while seated on the plush ottoman in front of the fireplace. It was not an act the ravenous beauty had performed very many times, but she relished the opportunity to quantify her affection for Dean in a purely physical sense.

Before the young man could release, however, Becky raised herself into a straddling position facing Dean. Their bodies ebbed and flowed together, raising and lowering with increasing speed until both released within a minute or so of one another.

When it was over, she even thanked him. In her breathy, hoarse Irish brogue. She nibbled his ear, nuzzled his neck and intimated vocally how long it'd been since she'd felt that good and how she couldn't wait to experience him again.

And she didn't have to wait long. The two lovers bathed together, carefully washing each other before making love again, Becky bent over and braced herself against the tiled back wall of the hotel's rainforest shower setup. Her moans were louder and more enthusiastic the second time, and she begged her man for more with every thrust. Dean wasn't sure he'd ever been with a woman who seemed to need him as badly as Becky did, but he sure didn't mind.

They stayed in the shower, each soaping and rinsing the other, intermingling completely, for almost an hour. Dean particularly enjoyed kneading Becky's pert, full breasts, even stopping to enjoy how her nipples felt between his fingers. Finally, the two exited the white porcelain enclosure, playfully drying each other off and continuing their inaugural expeditions of the others bodies. Becky somehow ended up seated on the sink counter adjacent to the shower, her legs spread enough to allow Dean to stand between them. She'd wrapped her shapely, smooth legs around his back, inviting him as close as could be physically managed, while her hands linked lazily around his neck as she urged him on with vocal sounds that weren't words, exactly, but affirmed to Dean that he was doing exactly what she wanted in exactly the way she wanted it done to her.

Once that particular encounter culminated for both of them, the pair found themselves lounging in the king size bed the hotel suite offered. Becky drifted off to sleep fully entwined in Dean's arms, her back flush against his chest. She couldn't remember a time her heart felt so full, and she also thanked the universe she'd renewed her daily birth control routine a few months back when she'd briefly dated an orderly at the hospital. They never ended up consumnating their relationship, but the practical young doctor stayed on the pill, as going on and off constantly could have an adverse effect on the body. She smiled, thought Dean couldn't see it, sighed happily, and drifted off to sleep.

Dean Ambrose was making it his life's mission to be as silent as possible while getting ready for work. He'd managed to get out of bed, shower, and find his work clothes without waking up the exquisite woman still asleep in the next room. Brushing his teeth quietly took some doing, as he was used to leaving the water running. Finally, he reluctantly decided that he was ready to face his day.

Searching for his keys, Dean found his way to Becky's side of the bed. Sure enough, there on the nightstand sat his overfilled keyring, wallet, and cell phone.

"Must've set them down here when I was distracted earlier," he mused inwardly. Slowly grasping his possessions, he hoped to complete his temporary escape without doing anything to stir his new girlfriend.

"Girlfriend," Dean thought to himself. To Dean, it felt a bit fast to commit so much of his life to someone he'd known barely a month. But as he stared down at the mess of wavy orange hair splayed out on the green pillowcase like a forest fire, the young officer knew if that's what she wanted from him, that's what she'd get, without any complaint or reservation.

He tiptoed out the door, guiding it all the way back into place, before hearing it lock behind him. He hoped Becky knew that he was just going to work, and that he'd be back later that evening to spend more time with her. "Today, tomorrow, and...hell, who knows?" The notion did make him smile, and there hadn't been nearly enough smiles in Dean Ambrose's life for the last year.

So, this was graphic and short. I know. I've been stuck on this chapter for a while. Life, other stories and whatnot. I think getting it done and in will help me move things along.