Silas
Page 12
Before we are even seated, Grace and Kalina start cooing over the dogs already racing on the track below. Neither of them has ever been to a greyhound race, so everything is interesting and exciting to them.
To me the whole thing’s just a bit sad.
When I was younger, we had an off the track greyhound, Condor. He was the most timid thing ever and I always wondered what, or who, made him that way.
The waiter has barely taken our drinks order and is explaining to the girls how the betting works, when another waiter appears by his side.
“Excuse me,” he butts in, “but the Benson table is asking if your party would care to join them?”
I twist my body to look behind me at Diego. I deliberately placed myself with my back to him, so that he wouldn’t think I’m here for him. Which, of course, I am. He knows it. I know it. But there are rules.
He’s talking into his mobile while he makes eye contact with me and beckons us over jovially. I turn to Kalina and Grace.
“You okay with that?”
Grace narrows her eyes at me.
“Who is he?”
“My boss.”
As I answer, it suddenly dawns on me that I am about to drag her into my world. The last eleven days hanging around with her, letting her decide what we’re doing, just being, have been such bliss and so far removed from my ‘normal’, I conveniently let myself forget that she doesn’t have a clue about my real life. Sure, she’s figured out what I do, but there is a massive difference between knowing in theory and suddenly being introduced to arseholes like Diego.
“At the club or the other boss?” she asks dryly with a surreptitious side glance at Kalina, who is still engrossed in watching the track.
Or so we think. Until Kalina turns her head to me and pins me in a dare-stare.
“Both,” she says.
What the fuck?
“How do you know?” I ask her, and she shrugs as if it weren’t a big deal.
“Your mum and I talk,” she says casually.
Hang on, what?
Mum knows about the fightnights?
I stare at Kalina, or rather Kalina’s profile because she’s turned back to the track despite the fact there aren’t any dogs on it at the moment. And suddenly I feel so stupid, it hurts. Of course my mother knows. She is Sheena O’Brien. She might be hiding in housekeeping at the Palais, but even if she ended up cleaning the toilets on the pier, she’d still be old Brighton.
She’d still be Sheena fucking O’Brien.
I’m officially a total moron.
Before I can dwell on it any further, Grace makes a move and gets up.
“Right, let’s go.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, looking up at her.
“It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” she answers wryly.
She ain’t daft, my woman.
Grace
I don’t show it but I’m absolutely seething.
He could have told me.
It was obvious from the moment we walked in that we were here because of the guy who is right now being introduced to me as ‘Diego’. He looks about as much as a ‘Diego’ as ... but apparently that’s what we are supposed to call him.
I was surprised to learn that he is Silas’ boss and the organizer of the fightnights. He looks about the same age as us. And the way they are together, I would bet my bottom dollar they’ve known each other since kindergarten. It’s just something about them. Like they aren’t really the people they are but playing parts in a make-believe game. Although I know it’s all deadly real. The bruises on Silas are all I need to remember that this ain’t no game.
Introductions are being made while we are still standing.
The two women Diego has with him are called Brooke and Kim. They are both pretty brunettes with nice smiles but neither appears to be the sharpest tool in the shed. Diego bids us to sit down. Silas hesitates for a moment. He nods at the empty space opposite Diego.
“Who’s your invisible friend?”
Diego smiles, and it’s an odd smile. It tells me Silas has just somehow insulted him, but I don’t get how. There is so much fucking history between these two, it’s palpable.
“It appears, you are,” Diego answers, and it makes Silas smirk.
I’ve never seen this side of him. He feels different all of a sudden. Not like the guy who will cuddle Luna on his lap, not like the guy who will snuggle up against me at night, not like the guy who packs picnics and buys me soft ice creams with 99 Flakes in them. He feels...dangerous to know.
It’s hot.
And scary as fuck.
I look at Kalina, but she seems fully in her element, eyeing up our host. She kinda pushes Brooke ─ or Kim, I’ve already forgotten which is which ─ along into the next seat with one small raise of her eyebrows and sits herself down next to Diego. I happily go sit on the other side of the other brunette because it means I get to be next to Silas who is taking the empty chair of unknown significance.
Once we’ve all got our asses parked somewhere, Diego asks if we want champagne and lobster. Kalina answers for all of us when she says yes, as if it were her god-given right to have champagne and lobster, and how silly of him to ask. I look at this eighteen-year-old and have the sudden epiphany that she could wipe the floor with me where street smarts and dealing with shady types is concerned. What the fuck happened to the innocent girl in the dungarees?
Diego smiles at her indulgently.
“Kalina?” he asks. “Is that a Russian name?”
She snorts derisively.
“Polish,” she answers, in a way that settles matters way beyond what nationality she is.
Diego nods respectfully.
And, honestly, I don’t even want to know.
Silas
I look at Grace and feel like a complete arsehole.
I can tell she feels majorly uncomfortable at Diego’s table. She looks so pretty, and she so doesn’t belong here. She belongs in some cool American jazz bar with some billionaire boyfriend whose dealings are a hundred percent legit and who whisks her away in his private magic jet carpet to Paris for the weekend. Or some shit like that.
Instead, she’s sitting in the Coral, with two Brighton lowlifes, a couple of dumb bimbos and a Polish gold digger. Betting on dogs.
Way to go, Silas.
And yet she looks at me with those eyes.
Hungry.
Like she wants me.
All of me.
Grace
As the evening progresses, I find myself loosening up a bit.
The champagne helps, I have to admit. But so does the knowledge that Silas isn’t drinking. It makes me feel safe to know that at least one of us has their shit together. When Diego tried to fill his flute, Silas put a hand over it and told him he was in training. Diego smiled at that but didn’t comment. Something about that frustrated Silas, but I don’t know what it was. There is so much subtext between these two it’s unnerving.
“Excuse me, I need the bathroom,” I say after we’ve trashed the lobster and I stand up.
I’m a little shaky on my legs. I’ve only had two glasses, but they’ve gone straight to my head. I look at Silas.
“Would you show me where they are, please?”
“Sure,” he answers and gets up. Smiling, he takes my elbow and guides me away from the table. “I’m sorry,” he says, as soon as we are out of earshot, moving his hand to the small of my back.
“What for?”
“Dragging you into this,” he states factually as we step out into the corridor behind the restaurant.
We near the restrooms and stop by the one that has the ladies sign on the door. I turn to look him in the eye, swaying a tiny bit. His hands come up and he steadies me by laying them firmly on either side of my neck, his fingers cradling the base of my skull. It’s instantly grounding. God, I love his hands, I love the way he holds me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine,” I say and give him my best kitten
smile. “Better if you give me a kiss before I go in.”
His eyes light up and he backs me up against the wall next to the door, putting a leg right between mine. And then he kisses me, one hand sliding up from my neck to tangle gently in my hair as his tongue and mine ravish one another once more. Any lingering trace of anger at having been dumped in this situation dissipates as we kiss and when he withdraws, my heart is pumping fast and my sex is dripping.
This man.
Silas
I apologise to Grace for messing up her hair. Then I let her go into the ladies’ room and find the gents. I have to wait a minute for my dick to go down before I can even think of going for a piss, so I stand by the sink and let cold water run over my hands. I’m looking at the stream flowing over my wrists, cooling my pulse, when I hear the voice behind me, like thunder rumbling in the distance.
“Well, hello, little brother.”
My head jerks up and I meet his dark eyes in the mirror. I hold their gaze as I give him the customary reply.
“I’m not your brother.”
He laughs at that.
“Maybe not but it turns me on to think you are.”
“You sick bastard.”
I want to turn around and punch him there and then, but I don’t. Because I know that’s what he’s after. And I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
“I watched you come in,” he says, stepping up to my side.
If I turned sideways, I could look at him directly, but instead I keep staring at him in the reflection.
“With your two chicks,” he carries on. “They’re hot. You always did have good taste. And there was me, thinking all this time you didn’t like a threesome. I guess it just wasn’t the right combo.”
Then he laughs that filthy laugh of his and my blood runs cold. The impulse to fucking murder him is strong, but I think of Grace and manage to keep it together.
“Fuck off,” I tell his reflection, and he grins. Then he leans over and whispers in my ear, so close I can feel his hot breath fanning over me.
“See you on the sixth, little bro.”
I watch his bulk retreat through the door.
And then I zone out.
Grace
It takes me a while to fix my hair back in place, so when I come out of the bathroom, I expect Silas to be long finished and waiting outside for me but he’s not. I give him a few minutes until it becomes evident he’s not gonna reappear. I go back to the table, fully assuming he’ll be there. But he’s not.
I sit down, confused, and want to get up again immediately, but Diego reaches across the table and holds down my arm against the white linen cloth without so much as looking at me. His palm on my naked skin gives me the creeps and I wriggle but he’s strong. He is also fully engrossed in a conversation with Kalina, completely ignoring his two escorts, who look bored out of their brains. Only when there is a break in the flow between Kalina and him does he turn to me, his hand still forcing me to stay in place.
“Stay seated,” he demands, looking at me through storm-gray eyes as if there were no other person at the table. “Silas came here to find answers.”
A loaded smile spreads across his face.
“He’s busy finding those answers.”
When he sees the horrified expression on my face, he starts patting my arm instead of holding it down any longer. Doesn’t make it any less creepy.
“Don’t worry, he’ll be back,” he says and as if on cue, he turns around to jut his chin out at Silas who’s just entering the restaurant again. “Look there he is.”
He’s right. And he’s not.
Because the man who’s coming towards our table may look like Silas, but he’s pure fury.
Silas
I make a beeline for Diego and pick him up out of his chair by the collar. He’s built, he goes to the gym to maintain his image, he even used to fight a bit back when we were way younger, but he is no fighter. Never has been. He can still hold his own in a brawl, but he doesn’t stand a chance against someone like me. Too slow. Too afraid to get hurt. And that’s exactly the fear I see in his eyes right now as I get in his face.
“What the fuck, George? Rowan? Really? Why? You lied. You said it was some bloke from London.”
In the corner of my eye, I can see the waiters get all huffy and I’m sure I’ll have about ten seconds before security will get here, so I let go of Diego again and watch him stumble back against his chair. I got to hand it to the fucker, though, he doesn’t flinch, just grins at me and then signals to the two bouncer guys who, lo and behold, turn up right then, not to bother. They don’t exactly leave but neither do they come any closer, just remain hovering to see how this pans out. I’d do the same.
Diego sits himself back down and looks up at me with a neutral mask on his face.
“Technically, he did come from London. I knew you wouldn’t shake on it if you knew who it was, but it’s the old man’s sixtieth and I’m expected to do something special for him.” He shrugs. “Just so happened that your brother─”
“Stepbrother,” I interrupt him.
“Stepbrother, then, don’t see what difference it makes.”
You have no idea.
“Besides, far as I know, your mother officially adopted him when that fucker of a dad ran off, did she not? That’s why she’s paying off his debts, isn’t it? Must be galling. Well, you should be grateful ‘cause it could be a whole load worse if it wasn’t for me. He came down, asking me for a loan to pay back some cunts he borrowed off in London. I thought it’d be nice for Pops to finally get the chance to watch the clash he and Cecil always fancied laying on. The Snake against the Python. Went to Cecil with the idea and he fucking loved it. Prepared to put the prize money up at a hundred thou. Of course, Cecil’s backing your stepbrother. Dad, I bet, will be backing you.”
He studies my face, gauging my reaction, but I remain blank.
“Not sure yet who I’ll put my money on.”
I take a step back.
“What if I don’t fight?”
He gives me a condescending look.
“Don’t be stupid, Silas. That’d be your mum’s loan on the house repaid, right? In one evening. No more fucking around at TripleX. Of course you’ll fight.”
He grins knowingly, while I sit there stunned about how well he still knows me, how much he still knows about me, how much he can calculate my calculations. Especially when he delivers the kicker.
“And you will love every fucking second of it. Cause you hate him.”
Can’t argue if a man is right.
Grace
We don’t stay after Silas and Diego have their exchange.
Silas bungs a wad of cash onto the table and says, “For the lobster,” then indicates to Kalina and me that we’re going. We’d figured as much, so we’re out of our chairs as quickly as our dresses will allow.
Diego takes Kalina’s hand and kisses it as she politely says goodbye to him. He doesn’t dare do the same with me when I glare at him but still tells me that it was nice to meet me. You gotta love the British and their manners.
On the way back home in the taxi, Silas sits next to me in silence, while Kalina is riding shotgun, chatting to the driver. His English is about as broken as hers, so I don’t know how much they are actually communicating but at least they are trying. Unlike some other people back here I could mention.
I turn to look at Silas’ stoic profile. Gone completely is the chatty, funny, bright guy of the last few days. He has been replaced again by the man I first met outside the bathroom door. Sullen, broody, tense. That coiledness is back, the feeling that if I touch him unexpectedly, he’ll strike me first and ask questions later. Like a snake. I’ve not seen him fight, but I have a pretty good idea where his fight name comes from now. Still, I want some answers. He fucking well owes me that much. Just to be on the safe side, though, I scoot over a bit more to my side of the backbench before I talk to him.
“Who the fuck is George?” I ask.
“Diego,” he answers, looking away again. “His real name is George.”
“Right,” I say.
I have a million other questions.
Like what’s the deal with the stepbrother you never mentioned and all that hatred pouring out of you?
And, is that the guy that came to the house?
And, this fight, is it to the death?
Because, honestly, at this point I wouldn’t put it past these people. They look like cute British movie gangsters on the outside, all bark and no bite. But I saw the bloodlust in Diego’s eyes when he said, because you hate him. These guys ain’t pretend. They’re the real deal. Who the fuck else would pay a hundred grand to see a couple of guys beat each other to a pulp as party entertainment?
So, yeah, I have questions. But I don’t know how to talk to this stony version of Silas.
It hits me like a sucker punch that I still barely know this guy.
Silas
I watched you come in. They’re hot.
He saw her.
He fucking saw Grace.
He’s not worthy to be on the same planet with her, let alone lay eyes on her.
I watched you come in. They’re hot.
The words keep going round and round in my head.
I watched you come in. They’re hot.
He’s going to want to put his hands on her.
He’ll know exactly which one of them is mine.
I need to keep her safe.
Grace is asking you a question, my brain informs me, she wants to know who George is. What? Oh, right. I laugh because it’s such an unimportant detail.
“Diego,” I answer and look away again.
I can barely look at her without guilt choking me. How could I be so stupid and put her in harm’s way like that? I should have kept her miles away from everything to do with the Bensons.