by CR Robertson
Ash kept nodding as if on autopilot.
“Let’s go.” I grabbed his elbow and navigated him to the area we normally climbed in and out through the ropes.
Walking to the door, Ash stopped, leaning forward suddenly to brace his hands against his knees. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said so low I barely heard him.
Jordan placed his hand on his back. “None of your other brothers were in that meeting. Not one of them will ever know the truth of what is about to happen. The only way to get through it is to pretend to be one of them.”
Ash looked up at him from under his hair. His skin was pale and clammy and the possibility of him vomiting was real. “I don’t know if I can.”
Jordan grabbed him by the front of his T-shirt and slammed him against the wall. “The only family I have in this godforsaken world is you and Zee. Don’t be a dick and make them sign the paperwork that tells me to eliminate you, Ash. Do you fucking understand?” He shoved him into the wall again to hammer home his point.
Ash’s hands slowly came up in defeat. “Yeah, I understand. You really need to work on your social skills, man.”
Jordan released him, his stance still taut and ready to strike. No one could ever accuse Jordan of being relaxed, his body language constantly tense.
“Guys, we have enough enemies waiting for us out there,” I said, moving forward to place a hand on each of their shoulders. “Tonight, we celebrate Michael’s life. We forget what we heard in that meeting and we party like rock stars. Okay?”
“Fine,” Jordan huffed.
“I’m not that good an actor,” Ash grumbled.
“You better hope for your dick’s sake that you are, considering the way you’ve been looking at my cousin. Uncle Lucas will demand to see a marriage licence and a ring or will cut off any appendage that could violate my cousin.” I wandered out of the room with the sound of Ash cursing and Jordan chuckling.
***
The collar of my shirt felt like a lead tightening around my neck. A long time ago this aspect of my life was who I was, a socialite heir who partied hard. That ended the night Jordan and I were ambushed by kidnappers. They never anticipated who they were attacking, and by the time Jordan was finished, there was no evidence of where they disappeared into the afterlife.
That day changed both our lives.
The hellraisers matured overnight and we no longer snuck out to attend all-night parties. I actually started to study toward my degree and changed my life. The men who walked into Michael’s birthday party were who we'd created for the world to see. The only time our real personalities appeared were at Uncle Lucas’ and the Midnight and Twilight Rooms.
Cas had met the real man instead of the mirage.
She’d left him anyway.
Those last moments had replayed in my head countless times over the past two days. The tears on her cheeks, the way she clung to me, her breathless voice as she said goodbye.
Fuck! I would give anything to turn back the clock and say to hell with it and walk into that elevator with her. I knew I could probably find out who she was as I could access the records as owner of The Midnight Rooms, but that would break her trust.
I was desperate, not a creep.
Waiters dressed in black shirts, ties, and trousers moved seamlessly between all the guests with trays filled with delicacies and glasses of champagne. I lifted a glass to give me something to do with my hand, the other shoved deep into my pocket. It was a technique to stop over-eager females touching my hand as they talked to me.
Jordan prowled the room, his gaze roaming like a predator ready to pounce on unsuspecting prey. My friend was the most dangerous creature in this room, a master of numerous martial arts that could kill you in a few seconds. Jordan lost his conscience a long time ago and would kill any person in the room if he was given the order. Ash and I were the only ones who would probably survive.
Michael stood with his hand on the waist of a tall blonde woman. She didn’t look like a police officer, but then, who did anymore? Jordan’s men discreetly surrounded them, blending into the crowd. Every one of them wore signal jammers to stop any recording equipment she had on her. Nothing was getting out of this room via radio waves or on a recording device.
Ash arrived beside me, his body rigid and his grip on the glass stem threatening to snap it in half. His gaze was fixed on Michael as if he was trying to engrain every aspect of him into his memory.
“Breathe, Ash, just breathe,” I muttered under my breath.
“Mum’s out there organising the cake,” he replied, his jaw tightening.
“I can try to speak to Dad again…”
He shook his head to stop me. “If it was anyone else, I would condone what was about to happen.” He turned to look at me with haunted eyes. “A man like me doesn’t deserve someone like Lucrezia.”
A slow grin spread over my mouth. “You said you weren’t interested.”
He returned his attention to the crowd. “I lied.”
“Uncle Lucas will roast your balls.”
“I’m not interested in letting Lucas near my balls.”
“Saving them for Lucrezia, are you?” I chuckled.
Ash eyeballed me and wrinkled his nose. “She’s not like other women.”
That sobered me because there was someone I felt that way about, and she was gone.
“When did you know?” I asked, pretending to scan the room.
He shrugged, pouring the glass of champagne down his throat. “Probably the first time I ever met her. There was something about her that brought out the caveman who wanted to protect her.”
“The fact that she’s stunning doesn’t hurt,” I said dryly.
“This sounds crazy, but I don’t think it would matter.” He lifted another glass from a passing waiter. “Lucas is right about one thing—men like us spend so long analysing our enemies, we know the moment we meet the person we want to share our lives with.”
My top teeth bit into my bottom lip. I dug my feet into the floor to stop myself from going to our membership department and demanding the contact information for Cas.
What if it wasn’t even her real name?
The thought left me shaken. No one knew me as Zee except Jordan and Ash.
Members of the Council arrived sporadically, their fake smiles and feral appraisals leaving me feeling shaken and vulnerable. They would have no problem voting for my death or that of my closest friends. It was the reason we were trying to dismantle many of the old networks and protocols they used.
Jordan sauntered up to stand with us, a crystal glass of whiskey in his hand.
“Where did you get that?” I pointed my champagne flute at his glass.
“I don’t drink that horse piss. Ash’s dad keeps his liquor in his reading room.”
“He locked that room earlier to stop anyone wandering in,” Ash started, then stopped. “What was I thinking? When did a locked door keep you out?”
Jordan lifted his glass to him in a silent salute.
The lights dimmed, and a chef wheeled an elaborate trolley with a massive cake covered in candles on it into the room. Ash’s hand formed a fist at his side. Everyone moved forward to surround the cake and watch Michael blow out the candles to make a wish.
Jordan and I took our positions on either side of Ash, both here to support our brother by choice instead of blood. He would go through nothing on his own, even if we had to sleep in his apartment.
“Maybe I should wish to be king of this family,” Michael joked, but the gleam in his eyes told me that nothing he said was in jest. Matteus stiffened, his features tightening until he resembled a bird of prey. If looks could kill, Michael would be lying dead on the floor right now.
“That title belongs to Ash when I’m no longer here,” Matteus replied with regal grace. “You will always be a prince in my kingdom, but Ash will one day be king.”
It was, in that moment, fear flashed over Michael’s features. His father always indulged his j
okes and comments in the past. This was the first time he’d been put in his place publicly. Michael frantically searched around the room until his gaze fell on us, moving over our group one at a time. He swallowed when he reached Ash, and there was no doubt sympathy and grief were in his brother’s eyes. My face was impassive, but Jordan raised his glass in silent toast to him.
We stood as judge, jury, and executioner; our sentence: death.
Our world demanded total loyalty, anything less meant you weren’t worthy of a position. Disrespect earned you a visit from an enforcer. Treachery or betrayal earned you a body bag.
Michael had committed the greatest of sins, and his fate was hurtling toward him with the force of a high-speed train. His mother rushed forward to encourage him to blow out his candles, demanding he close his eyes and make a wish.
His usual smugness had disappeared, a haunted expression appearing in its place as he attempted to smile and joke with his mother.
I hadn’t noticed Jordan disappearing until he handed Ash and me shot glasses, a bottle of ice-cold vodka in his hand. The liquid burnt going down, but I didn’t care, holding my glass out for another. There was a lot I needed to forget, and top of that list was a woman who’d left her red lace panties behind. They were currently in my bedside cabinet at home, tempting me to find her.
The room erupted into cheers when Michael blew his candles out.
Jordan held his glass up. “To the women who torment us.”
I swear he could read minds some days.
“To our future wives.” Ash clinked his glass against Jordan’s.
Uncle Lucas was going to kill him if he hurt Lucrezia. My cousins were the sisters I never had, so I would probably be in the queue too.
“To the ones that got away and took our humanity with them.” I raised my glass.
Jordan studied me with those eerie, deep grey eyes that saw too much. “We really shouldn’t let the ones we care about get away when life’s so short,” he said in a tone that sounded more as if he was talking to himself.
We downed our drinks at the same time, my eyes squeezing shut at the burning sensation that accompanied it.
Michael stared at us from across the room as his ‘girlfriend’ whispered furiously beside him. His gaze narrowed on us and it darkened as his mood soured.
We were born into this life as our father’s heirs. None of us asked for the position, but we would protect our families. Most families would exile a troublesome relative, but we dealt in extremes of behaviour.
Jordan poured us another drink and I raised it in silent toast to Michael. Ash and Jordan joined in. “May God have mercy on his soul,” I whispered.
“And the devil be lenient,” Jordan said.
“Amen.” Ash concluded.
***
Chapter Eighteen
Cassandra
My life currently ran on autopilot, with me working behind my closed office door. I’d made my decision, but it hurt like someone was stabbing me in the chest. For the first time in my life, I found a real connection with someone, but circumstances dictated that I couldn’t be with him.
Life sucked.
Hours ticked away while Sasha and I worked our way through boxes of files filled with contracts and deeds of properties. Every one of them was scanned, attached to the relevant digital folder, and stored. It was laborious, but there was no way I would waste my time constantly hunting through paper files when I could find them under their relevant names from my spreadsheet.
My door rapped, and Al poked his head in. “I haven’t seen you in days. Normally your door is open. Is everything okay?”
A fixed smile appeared on my face. “I just needed some peace and quiet to digitise all these files. If I leave the door open Megan tends to find a way to distract me.”
He lavished one of his fatherly looks in my direction that bestowed his pride on me. “Mr. Bartholomew is arriving tomorrow morning for a meeting with his team. Will you be ready?”
“Should be,” I replied. “That’s the last box that needs to be put on my system. It means I can find anything we’re looking for with the push of a button. I already have teams looking into the deals they are currently considering.”
Al stared at his feet before finally meeting my eyes. “All the partners will be there tomorrow. I know you’ve been busy, but…” His gaze moved down.
“I’ll be dressed appropriately tomorrow, Al,” I interrupted him before he got any more embarrassed. “I’ve been working with dusty files, and it’s a nuisance to get out of silk.”
For the past few days, I’d lost interest in my appearance with my hair dragged back in a ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a loose jumper.
He nodded enthusiastically, retreating from my office with a thumbs up signal.
My phone pinged on my desk. Every single day I received a text message from the pest in the bar. He was relentless. My only option left was to get a new number, because blocking people didn’t work as they could contact you from a different phone.
His messages bordered on threatening, his pictures disgusting. The last one had been a full-length photo of him masturbating. Why would anyone think that was appropriate to send to a stranger?
My fingers skimmed over the keys as I chewed the inside of my mouth, replying for the first time: PLEASE STOP MESSAGING ME. Ping! My phone sounded a few minutes later.
Give me a chance… Drinks tonight?
Me: I’M BUSY.
A reply arrived almost instantly: Tomorrow?
Ignoring my phone, I changed the settings to silent. Tomorrow, I’d get a new SIM card.
“Ready for home?” Megan stood nervously at the door.
“We’ve another box to go through,” I replied, nodding at the last box sitting on the coffee table in the corner.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Go back in time and not hand my number out or give me horrible advice about dumping the man of my dreams? I thought snidely.
“Nope. Sasha and I have it under control.”
Never in our friendship had I gone this long without forgiving her for her actions. To keep the peace, I generally pretended everything was fine. Only this time, my ability to pretend had been drowned in the pain I felt.
It was stupid because I knew nothing about him, but I really liked Zee. He was the type of person I wanted to have a relationship with, someone who would listen to me and hold me when I was vulnerable. The fact he was the first man who’d made me orgasm definitely added to his allure.
He’d made me feel like I was no longer alone in the world. That sounded strange, but it was the only way I could express the sensation of security he gave me.
Megan slumped in the seat on the opposite side of my desk. “I said I was sorry.”
Opening my phone to the messages section, I slid it across the desk to her. She lifted it and her eyes widened. This was the point that she was supposed to be horrified. Instead, a grin played on her lips. “One drink wouldn’t hurt you. His pictures are of him because you can see his face in this one. Not bad, not bad at all.”
I snatched my phone from her fingers. “I need to get these files ready before tomorrow,” I grated out in a cold, acidic tone.
“Cassie…” She stopped when I glared at her in disdain. “Everything in the Midnight and Twilight Rooms can become too intense. The men are fully trained Doms and that means they can fuck with your head by demanding your submission. You’re not used to that scene and could get hurt.”
The pressure that had been building for days in my chest erupted. “Never once did he try to fuck with my head. Do you know what he did do?” I demanded, my pulse pounding in my temple. “He listened to me.”
Megan’s mouth fell open.
“He didn’t tell me what I could or couldn’t do, or how I should feel. We lay for hours just talking about everything and nothing. I’ve spent months in meaningless relationships with men who didn’t even know a fraction of what he does about me.” I pursed my lips tog
ether, my head falling into my hands as my anger dissipated. “I can’t talk about this right now, just go.”
Megan sat motionless while she stared at me. “You can talk to me about anything.”
My eyes closed for several seconds before I brought them up to meet hers. “No, I can’t. How many months or years did you go to that club and you never once mentioned it to me? You only tell me what you want me to know, you only include me in what suits you. I found a real connection in the darkness, Megan. I miss him.” My voice broke on the last word.
Silence engulfed my office, both of us with nothing to say. Megan segmented her life, she always had, each of us in our own separate category like the files on my computer. It never used to bother me because I’d been happy in my isolation, until Zee showed me that there was freedom in sharing your thoughts and experiences with people.
Now, I realised just how lonely my life had been.
Megan sat up, illustrating that she’d thought of a winning argument.
“I’m tired, Meg,” I said in a low, defeated tone. “I need to get this finished, then I’m going home to soak in a bath and pretend that I didn’t throw away something valuable as if it meant nothing.”
She stared at her hands. “I never realised that you felt like this.”
“What?” I challenged wearily. “Used only when you needed me? Megan, you know exactly what you’re doing. You took me there because you wanted someone to lean on. If you’d been happy to go alone, I would never have even heard the name ‘Midnight Rooms’.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she protested, which meant I’d hit the nail on the head.
“Please, I need to get these files finished for this meeting tomorrow. Can we discuss this at the weekend when we’re not in work?”
She stood stiffly, her back straight and regal. Without another word she slowly walked out of my office with her head held high. Even though I was in the right, she made me feel like the villain in this story.