by Stella Hart
He sniffed. “Well, as long as we still have an understanding.”
“We do,” I replied. “What are you doing here, anyway? And where’s your wife? Shouldn’t she be here, following you around and doing whatever you command?”
Edward dropped his gaze. “Deborah is actually quite ill at the moment,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
A pang of guilt bit at my guts. “Oh. I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I hadn’t opened my big mouth.
“It’s our anniversary tonight, and we had plans to come here for dinner on the rooftop,” my grandfather went on, obviously feeling the need to explain why he’d left his sick wife at home alone. “Of course, I wanted to cancel everything because she’s been feeling so unwell lately, but she insisted that at least one of us should have a nice time tonight, so she arranged for me to have some drinks with a few friends of mine instead.” He paused for a second and craned his neck, looking at something over my shoulder. “There they are now, by the bar. I should get over there.”
“Right. I’m sorry about Deborah,” I said. “I hope she feels better soon.”
“Me too,” Nate added.
Edward gave us a curt nod. “Thank you,” he said. “Nice to see you again, Nate. Please do consider making an appointment to see me about that situation of yours. I know a few surgeons who have tremendous skill in scar reduction techniques.”
“Sounds good,” Nate said, extending one hand.
Edward shook it before turning his attention back to me. “Alexis,” he said stiffly. “Next time we run into each other somewhere… let’s just pretend we didn’t.”
My upper lip curled. “Fine by me.”
He stalked away, heading toward a group of gray-haired men.
“He really doesn’t like you, does he?” Nate said, lifting a brow as he watched him go.
I pursed my lips. “Nope.”
“Because of your dad, I assume?”
“Yeah. He and his wife don’t want anyone to know they’re related to the Butcher, even though it’s through marriage.”
“I’m surprised people don’t know about it already.”
“It’s because my mom ran away from home and changed her last name when she was quite young, so no one associates her with the Paxtons,” I said. “Plus they’re rich enough to pay off any media people who come sniffing around.”
Nate frowned and stared at my grandfather’s retreating back. “I wonder if he’s one of the guys we’re looking for,” he mused, rubbing his jaw. “Did you check to see if he was wearing any of the symbols? I forgot to look.”
I shook my head. “He’s not one of them. For one, he thinks my dad was actually the Butcher, and he’d know better if he was in the Golden Circle,” I said. “Also, he was wearing the same pin on his jacket that he wore last time I saw him. It’s a snake twisting around a staff. Very common symbol in medicine.”
“Right,” Nate said with a slow nod. He turned his head to look at the crowd of people near us. “Did you see anyone else yet?”
“Nope. You?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I’ll go back to my side.”
As he strode off, I returned to exploring the right side of the terrace, picking through the crowds of well-dressed members to no avail. Dammit.
My phone vibrated in my purse a few minutes later. Heart pounding with excitement, I grabbed it and switched the screen on, assuming I’d see a message from Nate telling me that he’d found the eleventh family.
It was my sister instead.
Sascha: Hey! A bunch of us are going to a club after my art show tonight. Can you come? I know you’re super busy with all your studying, but I haven’t seen you in ages!
It felt so good to hear from her that for a second, I could’ve sworn she was standing right in front of me, asking me to go clubbing with her in person. The image faded fast, and I was left with the sharp pang of missing her.
With a heavy sigh, I tapped out a reply. I hated lying to my sister, but I couldn’t tell her the truth about what I was up to with Nate. It was too risky, and I couldn’t stand the thought of putting her in any danger.
Me: Sorry, I totally would, but I’m stuck at a stupid Blackthorne networking event :(
Sascha: Damn. We need to do something soon. I miss you!
Me: Me too. We’ll definitely organize something soon. By the way, you’ll never guess who I ran into here tonight.
Sascha: Who?
Me: Our grandfather.
Sascha: OMG. Did you talk to him???
Me: Yup. It went about as well as our last meetup with him and Deborah…
Sascha: Ugh, really? I was hoping they would’ve changed their minds about us by now.
Me: I know. Sorry. It sucks, but what can we do? They’ve made it clear – they don’t want anything to do with us.
Sascha: Don’t worry. I have a feeling they’re going to come around to our side and start talking to us soon. You just have to believe! :)
I smiled at her positivity, even though I didn’t believe for a second that the Paxtons would change their minds about us. Even if I managed to prove my father’s innocence to the whole world, that still wouldn’t be enough for them. They were too stuck-up and set in their ways.
Me: Yeah, you never know. It could happen.
Sascha: It will. I guarantee it! Just wait and see. Anyway, I better go. My hair is a disaster so I have to fix it before I head to the clubs.
Me: I’m sure you look amazing. Have fun! Xoxo
I put my phone away and went back to checking out everyone’s jewelry. Nate returned to me a few minutes later, lips stretched into a broad grin. My heart soared. “Did you find something?” I asked, eyes wide.
He nodded. “We can add the Adamson family to our list.”
A rush of adrenaline went through me. “Awesome. Only one more to go.”
We finished exploring the rooftop restaurant and headed down to check out the nightclubs on the first floor. It was past ten o’clock now, so we could safely assume they were teeming with people.
The atmosphere in both venues was dark and sexy, and the music was loud and frenetic. Despite the writhing, gyrating bodies on the crowded dancefloors and the long lines up and down the bars on the sides, we didn’t see a single person who matched what we were looking for. It was mostly people under the age of thirty.
After Nate and I left the second nightclub, we returned to the casino yet again, seeing as it was one of the busiest spots in the Mayfair. There was no one useful there either.
Once again, we’d hit a wall.
“Shit,” I muttered once another hour had gone by with no new discoveries. “Maybe no one from the twelfth family is here.”
“Looks that way,” Nate said with a grimace. “But this place is so big. We could’ve missed something.”
“Yeah.” I sighed and glanced at my new Fitbit watch. It was almost midnight. “Should we call it a night and leave?”
“Let’s go and check out the top floors first,” Nate said. “Just in case.”
We took an elevator up to the fourth floor, where half of the private suites were located. It was much quieter up here, and the halls were mostly empty. Over the next half-hour, we only saw three people—two room attendants in crisp white shirts and black pants, and a member poking her head out of a private suite to collect a room service order.
With a deep exhale of annoyance, I headed back to the elevator with Nate in tow and pressed the gold button for the fifth floor. It looked the same as the fourth floor. Delicate sconces on the walls, intricately-patterned carpet runners over hardwood flooring, and gold numbers on each door.
“Maybe we should call it a night, like you said earlier,” Nate said when we’d gone through half of the halls without coming across a single other soul.
“Yeah,” I said, shoulders slumping. “I guess it was stupid of me to get all hyped up and think we could find all the families in one night. We’re honestly lucky we managed to find as many as we did.”<
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“It wasn’t stupid. It was a good idea. That’s why we managed to find so many,” Nate said, glancing over at me as we turned a corner into yet another quiet hall.
I was about to reply when a pinging sound traveled down the corridor, followed by the soft whirring sound of an elevator sliding open. I turned my head to see an elegantly-dressed couple stepping out of the golden doors. They appeared to be in their seventies, and the man had a thick silver ring on his right hand.
I arched a brow at Nate, and we headed down the hall. The couple was coming in the opposite direction. I quickly glanced at the man’s hand as we drew closer. A stab of annoyance went through my guts as I saw that his signet ring was patterned with a fleur-de-lis. Damn.
I glanced over at the white-haired woman and gave her a polite smile as we passed each other. When I caught sight of her necklace, my stomach clenched, and I drew in such a sharp breath that I had to disguise it as a cough to avoid receiving strange looks. At first it appeared to be a letter necklace with a white gold ‘M’ pendant, but the extra curving tail on the right end made it clear to me that it was a Virgo symbol.
I nudged Nate as we passed the couple, and he nodded and leaned down to my right ear. “I saw it too,” he muttered.
“Do you know her name?”
“No.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
I was about to ask him what we should do when he turned on his heel and called out to the elderly couple. “Excuse me. Are you staying on this floor?”
They stopped and turned to look at us. “Yes, we are,” the woman said primly, raising her thin brows. “Why?”
Nate gestured for me to follow him, and we stepped right up to the couple again.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Nate said, giving them a friendly smile. “But we’re staying on this floor too, and we found a credit card that someone dropped. We were about to take it down to the reception desk to see if they can return it to the owner, but it has a woman’s name on it, and it just occurred to me that it might be yours.” He paused and reached into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. “Would you mind telling me your name so I can check?”
I smiled inwardly. In most cases, it would be considered strange or rude to ask a complete stranger for their name, but the ‘I found a credit card’ angle was a clever one that made it seem normal. The person who supposedly found the card wouldn’t want to read the name off it to a stranger, because that stranger could easily say ‘yes, that’s mine’ and take it even if it didn’t belong to them. Getting their name first made sense.
“I’m Adeline Marin,” the woman said.
Nate pulled out a random credit card from his wallet, glanced at it, and flattened his lips. “Damn. It’s not yours,” he said. “I guess I’ll have to take it down to reception after all.”
Ms. Marin smiled. “How gentlemanly of you.”
“It’s no big deal,” Nate said. “Anyway, sorry to bother you. Have a good night.”
The couple bade us goodnight before turning back around. Nate and I contained our excitement long enough to reach the other end of the hall and turn a corner. Then we stopped and stared at each other in shock and awe.
“I want to scream so badly,” I said, trembling with exhilaration. “I can’t believe we actually did it. We got all twelve!”
Nate’s eyes locked with mine as I spoke. There it was again, the arc of electricity between us that never seemed to quit. My heart began to pound even faster, and I tilted my chin up and kissed him before he could respond to me.
He kissed me back without hesitation, hands tangling in my hair. He was warm and tense, muscles bunched beneath my hands as I ran them over his back and shoulders.
When his tongue slid into my mouth, fighting for dominance over my own, my knees went weak, and I let out a low, blissful moan. My mind was muddled and I couldn’t think straight, just like every other time I let myself fall for the wild attraction between us. I didn’t care, either. Every ounce of fight in me had vanished.
“Excuse me,” came a sharp voice from somewhere near us.
Fear skittered up my spine. Someone must’ve caught on to what we were doing here.
I dropped my hands from Nate’s shoulders. He did the same, taking a step back.
We stood there, chests heaving, and we turned our heads to see a room attendant standing a few yards away from us. In our excitement, we hadn’t noticed him step into the hall.
“Sorry to disturb you,” he said with a polite smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted me to book a private suite for you.”
Relief cascaded over me, and I turned back to Nate and looked up at him. He didn’t need to say anything. His answer was gleaming in his eyes.
I looked back at the attendant, lips curving into a smile. “Yes.”
14
Alexis
Five minutes later, Nate and I had our own private room in the Mayfair.
Without another word, I kicked off my shoes and rushed to him. He did the same. Our lips crashed against each other as our bodies collided, and he grabbed my ass and lifted me up, letting my legs wrap around his hips.
My fingers tangled in his hair as our lips met again and again. Then Nate turned and dropped me on the bed, letting me sink into the soft velvet coverlet at the end. He stared down at me, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and the top of his pants. I bit my bottom lip and hoisted the skirt of my dress up before shimmying my panties down my legs and kicking them to the floor.
I was still sore from earlier, but I didn’t care. I wanted Nate to use up all the frenetic, excited energy within me. Wanted him to claim my body as his and kill all my doubts and confusions about whatever the hell we had.
I spread my legs, letting him see how wet I was.
“Fuck.” His gravelly voice raised my arousal to new heights. I squirmed on the bed, desperate for him to join me. Then I slid one hand between my thighs to stroke the swollen bud there.
Suddenly Nate was on me, grabbing and caressing and biting and kissing. We went at each other like wild animals, groping and feeling every inch of each other’s bodies as we twisted and turned on the bed, fighting each other for dominance. I was so turned on, so fucking desperate for his touch, that I thought I might find my release before his cock was even near me. I felt my muscles pulsing and clenching, like it had already happened, and a low moan escaped from deep within me.
“Please,” I said breathlessly as Nate pinned my wrists above my head on the coverlet. I needed him inside me. Now.
He moved his hips forward and sank inside me with a low groan, movements intentionally slow and controlled just to torment me. He knew I wanted it hard and fast right now.
I begged him again, feeling zero shame in doing so. “Please, Nate…”
His lips crushed mine, kissing me feverishly to match the rhythm of his thrusts as he sped up. I squeezed my muscles around him, making him groan into my mouth as he sank deeper. “You’re killing me,” I thought I heard him mutter, but it was mostly drowned out by my own voice as I moaned and whimpered beneath him.
Our skin made loud, wet slapping sounds as Nate rolled his hips and moved in and out of me, fucking me brutally hard and fast. I wrapped my legs around his waist and let out a juddering moan as pressure built in my core. One more thrust and I was done, legs shaking and lips spilling endless loud whimpers. The wet heat of my orgasm set Nate off, and he came with a low growl, collapsing on top of me and panting against my chest.
While I was still catching my breath a moment later, Nate went into the bathroom to clean up. I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the familiar old feelings of doubt and regret to creep back in.
And there they were, slithering into my mind with cold intensity, questioning my rationality and judgment. Why do you do it? Why do you keep fucking him when you know you’ll feel bad about it every single time?
I kept doing this, going around and around in the same circle. It brought to mind a saying I once heard. The definition
of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.
That was it. Nate made me crazy. He made me want to throw away all of those past regrets in the hope that everything would somehow be different the next time, but then it never was. So why did I keep falling for it?
The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
For weeks, I’d told myself it was just comfort; that we were using each other’s bodies for pleasure while we still could. There were no feelings there. Just pure, unbridled lust stemming from physical attraction and nothing more.
But that was no longer true. Somewhere along the line, I’d started to fall for Nate.
“Oh, no,” I muttered, scrunching my eyes shut. “No, no, no…”
I couldn’t have feelings for him. Couldn’t let myself sink that low. Couldn’t let myself be that weak and pathetic.
It wasn’t that I thought having feelings was a sign of weakness. It was that I thought having feelings specifically for Nate was a sign of weakness.
How could I possibly love someone who’d done such heinous things to me in the past? It wasn’t even the distant past. It was so recent that some of the scars he’d left on me were still fresh and pink.
Clearly, my mind was sick. Twisted and broken. Or maybe it was Nate’s fault this was happening.
Yes, that was it. It was him.
Over the last few weeks, he’d made me feel undeniably alive every time he touched me, even though I was waiting to die at his hand. That was the most fucked up part about it—how he could give me so much when he intended to take everything from me. It sent my mind spinning with confusion every time.
But now… Nate wasn’t actually trying to kill me. He was helping me. That only added to the confusion. What the fuck was going on between us? Was it even real?
I sat up and took a deep breath, trying to rationalize my feelings.
It wasn’t love. Simply couldn’t be. I was probably just mixing up my emotions because of the trauma and upheaval I’d experienced over the last several weeks. Not just from my captivity and torture, but from my search for answers regarding my father and the Golden Circle. Nate was helping me with that search, because it was just as important to him now that he knew his own father had fallen prey to their evil machinations, and obviously, our work together was sending all sorts of mixed signals to the primal parts of my brain.