by Caitlyn Dare
We're dressed head to toe in black—a requirement, apparently—but unlike when we went on that job, this time, we're wearing dress pants and button-downs.
"Right then. It's party time, boys," Cade announces, rubbing his hands together while his eyes sparkle with wicked intent. It does nothing to settle my unease about tonight.
The second we come to a stop, someone opens the door for us, and we climb out in turn before Alex and I trail behind the others toward the main entrance where two men are standing—also dressed all in black.
Cade nods at them and they greet him by name—as if he's actually someone worthy of it—before we all file inside. The hallway is deserted as usual, and I breathe a sigh of relief as we pass the ornate double doors that lead to the room where my initiation began. Instead, we continue forward, past the door we walked through for the meeting with Q and farther down into the darkness before a door opens for us by another security guard to reveal a set of stairs.
The small, enclosed space is lit with only candlelight, giving it that eerie look that Q seems to be obsessed with. Cade once again nods at the man who opened the door for us and we descend, going deeper into the darkness.
"Well, this isn't creepy at all," Alex whispers to me a second before the sound of men talking and low music hits our ears.
As we turn the corner and the room reveals itself, I can't hold in my gasp of surprise.
Laid out before us is a state-of-the-art casino, complete with every kind of game imaginable. But it's not the tables or the wealthy men sitting around them in their finest suits sipping vintage whiskey that catch my attention… because that would be the women.
I didn't need to ask to know tonight was going to be a male only event. I guess I should have guessed there would be a reason, because the women walking around are only here to serve one purpose.
With every woman I spot around the room, their outfits get smaller as they walk around with trays in their hands, delivering drinks to the men who shamelessly eat up every inch of them.
"Whoa," Alex mutters, clearly as taken aback as me by what we've walked into.
"Trust me when I say it only gets better," Ashton says with a hint of excitement. "You think these women are good? Look up."
Reluctantly, I follow orders and tip my head back to find a series of suspended ornate cages hanging from the ceiling, each containing women who are dancing to entertain the men below. There are also podiums with long poles, barely-dressed women twisting and twirling their slender bodies around them.
It's every man's fantasy, and I'm hardly surprised by any of it, seeing as Quinctus and the Electi seem to be full of depraved and twisted men.
"Right then, boys. Let's get this motherfucking party started."
Cade, Ashton, Tim and Brandon head off into the room. Cade is immediately called over by an older, important looking man at the blackjack table, and I watch as he shakes the man’s hand as if they’re in a business meeting.
"It's something, right?" Channing says, hanging back with Alex and me.
"It really, really is."
We stand there watching as thousands of dollars get won and lost on the tables and even more get poured into fine crystal glasses.
"Why do I get the idea that Ashton's warning is only the tip of the iceberg?”
"You’re a quick learner." Channing laughs, but it sounds strained. "This place is a playground for the rich and powerful. Anything you want tonight, you can have. Literally anything. Every drink you could possibly imagine is behind the bar, and every drug you could desire is somewhere in this room. Any girl you want is yours. There are side rooms set up ready—or, as you'll soon learn, you can just make the most of the voyeurism.”
Alex stands beside me with his mouth hanging open. "So Cade's little sex fests back at the house…"
"Are nothing compared to this," Channing finishes.
“Is that the commissioner?” Alex asks, nodding toward another group of men.
“Sure is. Anyone of importance in this town is right under this roof, ready to act out their wildest fantasies.”
"Fucking hell," I say, scrubbing my hand down my face.
"You might want to plaster a smile on your face or find something to take your mind off whatever it’s filled with right now, because you're here to enjoy yourself."
"And if I don't want to?" I ask, because this… it isn’t me, and I want no part in it.
"Tough. Consider this… a rite of passage."
"As if we've not already been through enough.”
“Holy shit,” Alex murmurs, his attention on the other side of the room. “Is that District Attorney Hal Bailey?”
“Yeah, Fawn’s father.” Channing grimaces at the sight of him with his hand up one of the server’s skirts as she flirts with the table of men. "Being an Electi is just a gift that keeps on giving," he deadpans.
"Here." Channing hands us both a stack of chips. "You want more, you need to reach into your pockets. Where are you starting your night, boys?" He winks before slipping into the room and heading for the poker table.
"We're here now," Alex says, “may as well embrace it." He shrugs and takes off, leaving me little choice but to follow unless I want to stand here looking like an outsider for the rest of the night.
Alex sets himself up on the roulette table and places a few of his chips down, which, predictably, he swiftly loses.
"Here," I say, handing mine over.
"Don't you want to play?" he asks, his brows knitting together.
"It's fine. Go on."
"Cheers. My luck has to change sooner or later, right?"
I smile at him, wondering if we're destined for perpetual bad luck now we're a part of all this.
"Here," Ashton says, suddenly appearing between us. "Something to take the edge off."
"Thanks, man," Alex says, taking the small square of paper from his hands without a second thought and popping it onto his tongue.
I stare at him in disbelief. After what they did to us down in that vault, how can he take that quite so easily without even questioning what it is?
"Don't be a pussy, Easton. It's not DOM." Ashton smirks.
"I don't give a fuck. I'm not taking anything from you."
"Fine. But I can promise you that you'll enjoy tonight with or without it."
I don't want to enjoy the fucking night, but I keep that thought to myself.
Exactly as Channing warned, as the night goes on and the drink and drugs flow freely, things only begin to get wilder.
The dancers shed their already nonexistent outfits and the men seem to forget that they've got wives and families at home waiting for them. The whole place transforms into one big orgy, of which Cade, Ashton and Brandon are right in the middle of, having the time of their lives.
I, however, just want to leave as soon as possible.
Ignoring the chaos behind me, I head to the bathroom, hoping for a little reprieve. The shots of whiskey I've had are doing little to numb anything right now, and I'm desperate to have something stronger, but I also know that I need to keep a clear head.
If I let my guard down, even for a second, then that asshole is going to exploit it. I've seen him watch me, watching and waiting for me to do something that I'm sure he'd take great pleasure in reporting straight back to Mia, but it's not going to happen.
She's mine. And as far as I'm concerned, she’s the only girl in the world. I don't care about the women out there flaunting what they've got for all to see. I am not interested in sharing them with any of those assholes.
My fists curl as I push through the men's bathroom door, but unlike I'm expecting, it doesn't close behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I find a man has followed me inside. There's something familiar about him, but it's hard to pinpoint with the whiskey fogging my brain.
"Bexley," he commands, and my body immediately does as it's told.
"Do I know you?" I ask, turning to look at him.
"No. Not yet. But I understand that you k
now my daughter."
Realization dawns the second those words fall from his lips. "You're Mia's dad?"
Reaching behind him, he flips the lock on the bathroom door. But unlike most of the men on the other side of the door, he doesn't make me nervous despite the fact that he probably should, seeing as he's just followed me in here.
"I am," he confirms.
Silence falls between us as we stare at each other.
"I'm working security here tonight as Phillip was short a few men."
"O-okay," I stutter, trying to figure out what he really wants.
"Mia's Coglio is next weekend…" he starts, as if I need a fucking reminder. "And I know you're both suspicious." My brows rise. How the fuck does he know this?
Who the fuck is Mia's dad?
"But you have to let things play out as they've been planned. You have to allow it to happen."
"But—"
"Bexley, please. I know this is hard. Trust me, I do.” His brows pinch, and he seems genuinely uncomfortable. “But this is bigger than you and Mia. Your time will come, I promise you that, but right now is not it."
My lips part to respond, but he continues. "I know that she's been sneaking around, poking her nose where it doesn’t belong, and I need you to stop her. She's already in enough danger right now. If she pokes too deep, I'm afraid that I will no longer be able to protect her."
I scrub my hand down my face as his words start to sink in.
"You have to let this play out, and I need you to do everything you can to keep her safe."
"Jesus, Mr. Thomp—"
"It's Garth. I know you don't know me, but I know you care about my daughter, and I know we're on the same side. I promise you I will do everything I can, but I can't do it alone."
"I need you to give me more information. Why is she even in this position? Did you have something to do with it?"
He hesitates before he answers, making me think that deep down, he really wants to tell me the truth. But when he finally speaks, I realize it's going to take a little more to get the details I need.
"I've already said too much. If anyone knew we even had this conversation, then…" He trails off and I'm grateful, because I really don't need any ideas about what could happen should Q know that Mia and I have been sniffing around to find the truth.
"Please, Bexley. I'm begging you, just look after my little girl." Pain etches into his expression and dread floods me.
"I'll do my best."
"You have to trust that everything is happening for a reason."
"Even at your daughter's expense?"
He pales, guilt shining bright in his eyes and telling me everything I need to know about his involvement in this.
"You're not just Phillip's security, are you?"
"That's my main job, yes."
"But not your only one?"
"Bexley, you're going to make a great leader one day. You'll be a part of making this town great again, I have no doubt. But for now, you need to play the game. There is an end, and we all just need to pray that it comes sooner rather than later."
"For Mia's sake?"
He releases a heavy sigh, a dark look crossing his expression. "For everyone's sake. Enjoy the rest of your night." He nods at me and has disappeared back through the door before I've even registered that he’s gone.
What the hell was that?
Locking myself in one of the stalls, I drop down onto the toilet and lower my head into my hands, replaying the entire conversation over in my head.
So he knows about Mia and me, and he knows we've been digging.
Why do I get the suspicion that he knows just as much as Q and James?
If not more.
Has his entire life been a lie, a cover-up for his true part in Q? And should we have been looking closer to home for the answers this whole time?
My cell burns a hole in my pocket. I desperately want to call Mia and tell her, but I can't. She's spending the night with Annabel. The last thing I want to do is ruin it… more than I'm sure it already is, knowing who I'm spending mine with.
26
Mia
“Oh, that one is stunning,” Mom says as I emerge from behind the velvet curtain. “Isn’t it beautiful, Annabel?”
“It’s something, Mrs. Thompson.”
“Oh, please, I’ve told you time and time again, call me Temperance.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Thom—Temperance.”
“How do you feel, sweetheart?”
“It doesn’t scratch like the last one. But isn’t it a little too… much?” The dress is a simple sweetheart neckline, but the back plunges to the bottom of my spine. Virginal from the front and sexy from behind. It would be ironic if it weren’t for the fact that we’re choosing a dress for me to wear for my union to the devil himself.
I suppress a shudder.
“Mia, darling?”
“I like this one.” I admit defeat. If I don’t pick one soon, she’ll insist I try on another six, and I can’t bear the thought of it. At least this one doesn’t suggest I’m going to be his sweet little submissive fiancée.
Although knowing Cade, it will only encourage his wandering hands. I suppress another shudder. The thought of him anywhere near me makes my stomach churn. Especially after the other day in the mausoleum.
Inhaling a deep breath, I steel my spine and face myself in the mirror. I look beautiful. I look like a bride getting ready for her big day. My hair is braided in a crown around my head, tendrils spilling around my face. Mom insisted I try the dresses complete with shoes, so I’m at least four inches taller.
Annabel is right: the dress really is something.
But I feel nothing but dread wrapped in silk and lace.
“Are you sure? It’s a big decision. Your Coglio is one of the most important events in your life. Except, of course, your wedding.”
“Mom,” I hiss.
“I know you’re nervous, sweetheart. But this is a huge honor. I get chills every time I think about my little girl marrying a Kingsley. It really is something—”
“Why don’t we go and look at jewelry, Temperance, and give Mia a second to collect her thoughts.” Annabel shoots me a sympathetic smile.
“Thank you,” I mouth, relief washing over me as my best friend leads my mom out of the fitting room.
The girl staring back at me no longer looks like me. She’s hardened. Older. Wiser. The naïve sparkle in her eyes has been dimmed by the dark world she now inhabits. But she’s also stronger. She won’t go down without a fight. But time is running out, and I’m still no closer to coming up with a plan to stop the Coglio.
Cade and the Electi celebrated last night. Some kind of debauched bachelor party, I imagine. Bexley texted me this morning to reassure me that a) he was okay and b) he hadn’t done anything bad. I can’t deny that I wonder if he’s lying. I know the kind of parties Cade throws. What he demands of his friends. We are but pawns in his game, and as I’m learning, the price of dissension is sometimes far greater than the price of submission.
I love Bexley and he loves me, though.
It has to be enough.
My breath catches. I want to believe it’s enough, that we’ll find a way through this. But once Cade makes me his… what if Bexley doesn’t want me?
I wouldn’t blame him.
It killed me seeing him with Brook, and that was only once.
Tears prick my eyes, but I force them down. If I’m going to survive the Coglio, then I have to turn my weakness into strength, my tears into weapons. Cade might hold all the power, but even the greatest kings fall.
And if Quinctus killed Gregory Kingsley, I have to hope they have a plan for Cade.
“Mia, sweetheart, can we come back in?” Mom’s voice startles me.
“Sure, Mom.”
They come back into the room and help me out of the dress. “We’re meeting Sasha and Brook at the country club in thirty—”
“Sasha and Brook?” I balk.
“Well,
yes.” Mom stumbles over the words. “I asked Annabel who your friends from college were and she said Sasha, and I know she and Brook are stepsisters, so I thought… oh gosh, sweetheart. Did I mess up?”
“No, Mom, it’s fine,” I concede, because although part of me wants to refuse, she’s still my mom and I’m still her daughter, and the need to give her this sits heavy in my stomach.
“I didn’t know,” Annabel whispers to me, and I shake my head.
“It’s fine. It’s just one lunch.” Brook is in my life whether I like it or not. Perhaps it will do her good to be reminded that I’m not going anywhere.
“Oh good.” Mom beams. “I’ve been so excited for today. I miss you, sweetheart. The house just isn’t the same without you.”
I wonder how she can be so clueless. How she can’t see the pain behind my eyes. But that’s Gravestone for you, and like every other verus woman, my mother is entrenched in its ways.
“I’m sure it’ll be great, Mom.” I grimace, pulling on my jacket.
It’s not like it can get much worse.
Gravestone Country Club is the pinnacle of the town’s wealth. Maseratis, Bugattis, and Aston Martins litter the parking lot like sparkling gemstones nestled in a luscious green sea.
“Ah, Javier,” Mom greets the bellhop. “So lovely to see you.”
“Mrs. Thompson. Your guests are already inside.”
“Thank you.”
We follow Mom into the lavish reception room. Everything is coated in gold, from the door handles to the chandeliers, the vases, and even the bell on the check-in desk.
It’s a rich man’s paradise, and despite not possessing even a fraction of the money some of the people here do, my mom feels completely at home.
But that’s Temperance Thompson. She’s always enjoyed the finer things in life, seduced by the glitz and glamor of Gravestone.
“Mia,” a voice calls, and we turn to find Sasha and Brook waiting for us.
“Girls, you both look beautiful. I’m Temperance, Mia’s mom. I’m so happy you could join us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Thompson.” Sasha smiles, but it’s strained.