by Becca Steele
A huge smile spread across my face. I reached for my plate and started eating, while the boys spoke in low conversation around me.
“Still slumming it, Caiden?” Portia’s irritating voice startled me, and I looked up to find her standing at the side of our table, staring at me sitting on Cade, her lip curled in the disdainful sneer she seemed to favour around me. She looked beautiful as always, her perfect red hair falling over her shoulders in tumbling waves, her boobs straining against her tight knitted top, and her artfully applied make-up giving her skin a flawless appearance.
“Insult my girl one more time and I’ll make your life hell.” Caiden’s low, growled threat came from behind me, close to my ear.
My mouth fell open in shock.
Portia’s brows flew up to her hairline, and her eyes flicked from me to Caiden in disbelief.
“Your girl?”
“You heard me.” He leaned forwards so his lips were right by my ear. “You okay, Snowflake?”
“Your girl?” I repeated dumbly, as I noticed Portia storm off out of the corner of my eye. “What’s—I mean. We haven’t discussed.” I couldn’t get my brain to work properly.
“Mine.” He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed me once, just under my ear, then carried on speaking to Zayde as if nothing had happened.
What the fuck? I mouthed across the table to Weston, and he shrugged, grinning. I saw him pull out his phone and start tapping on the screen; then he placed it on the table and indicated to it with a nod of his head. A few seconds later, my phone vibrated with a message, and I surreptitiously opened it in my lap.
West: Told you he really likes you.
Well, fuck me. Maybe he was right.
I spent the rest of the afternoon floating around my lectures in a daze, basically acting like a dreamy schoolgirl whose first crush had just noticed her. I kept telling myself to get a grip, but Caiden’s words played on repeat in my mind. We needed to have a conversation about whatever was going on between us. At some point. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t push for anything. Just let whatever was going to happen, happen.
I left my last lecture of the day and exited the building. The day had turned to night during my lecture. I actually didn’t mind the dark winter evenings—I liked being able to see the stars. Heading down the path leading to the library, I tugged my coat more tightly around me to ward off the chill in the air.
The library was warm and welcoming after the outside cold, and I removed my heavy winter coat and gloves as I entered, then headed up to the silence of the top floor. Dumping my things on an empty table, I headed into the stacks to grab the books I needed. My plan was to fill my mind with studying tonight so I wouldn’t have to be constantly worrying about what the Four were doing at AMC. That was the idea anyway.
“Winter. Can I have a quick word?” The shadowy figure that suddenly appeared around the stacks made me jump back in fright.
“It’s just me.” He moved closer. James Granville.
“James, you scared me. What are you doing, hiding in the shadows like that?”
“Sorry.” He looked around nervously, on edge. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Um, okay. What’s up?”
He shuffled his feet, not looking at me. “I wanted to say I’m sorry how things turned out for us. I hope I didn’t cause problems for you.”
“That’s okay. I’m sorry, too. We could’ve been great friends.”
“But you picked Caiden Cavendish.” His mouth set in a flat line.
“James. I-I don’t know what to say. I—”
“It’s alright.” He stepped into the light, and I gasped. His left eye was swollen shut, puffy and bruised.
“Shit, James. What happened? Who did this to you?”
“That’s not important,” he said sharply.
I reached up to touch the bruising on his face, and he flinched. “You need to get some ice on that. I’m sorry.” Instinctively, I hugged him. His arms came around me, and he leaned his head on my shoulder.
“Thanks. I needed that,” he murmured, kissing my cheek, and then suddenly his lips were on mine.
I froze in shock.
Then my brain came back online with a roar, and I stamped down on his foot with all my strength.
He jumped backwards with an angry shout. “That hurt! Bitch!” He bent down, rubbing madly at his foot.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I was livid, hissing in his face. “Try that again and you’ll regret it. I mean it, James. Don’t. Fucking. Try. Me.”
“You and Cavendish deserve each other.” His mask slipped, and a vindictive smile appeared on his face. “I think I’m going to enjoy this, after all.”
Enjoy what? A sick feeling built in the pit of my stomach, and I could only stand and stare as he walked away from me, towards—was that my TA, Joseph?
As he reached him, he held up his hand, and they bumped fists, Joseph grasping a phone in his hand. Then they were gone, and I was left alone, confused, angry, and apprehensive.
I gathered the books I needed as quickly as I could and hurried back to my apartment, on high alert, constantly checking to make sure I wasn’t being followed. Kinslee was still out; she’d be at least another half an hour, so I settled at my desk with a huge mug of coffee, books piled around me and my laptop open, to start on my assignment, trying to push James’ weird behaviour to the back of my mind.
I wanted to tell the Four. What I didn’t want to do was to cause any more drama, knowing how much Caiden disliked James. Would that stop me telling them, though? Fuck, no. Seriously, what had James been thinking? Asshole.
I decided to wait until the boys got back from AMC to tell them what had happened—there was no way I was going to be responsible for distracting them from their task.
Sipping my mug of coffee, I returned to my books. Seven o’clock. The boys would be getting ready to go to AMC. I could only hope that they got lucky and found out who it was Arlo was meeting, or what it was he was doing on a Tuesday night.
As if I’d conjured them up, two minutes later my phone buzzed with a message from Weston.
West: We scrub up well, don’t we *wink emoji*
An image of the Four appeared on my screen. All in dark suits, hair styled, tattoos peeking out. Cade had a sexy, arrogant smirk on his face, Cass had a huge grin, West was winking, and Zayde, shock of all shocks, was actually sticking his tongue out at the camera, showing his barbell piercing.
Me: *woman fanning herself GIF*
Me: Bloody hell. I can’t handle the hotness. This is now my phone wallpaper.
West: Thought you’d like it. We’re leaving in a few. Message you later if it’s not too late.
Me: Good luck. I don’t care how late it is, I need to hear from you guys tonight.
West: OK. Speak later.
Me: Be careful.
West: Always.
I placed my phone down and started working on my assignment, trying to block everything else out of my mind. As I sipped my coffee, my thoughts went back to James in the library. What was his weird, shifty behaviour all about, and why on earth would he try to kiss me?
I didn’t have to wonder for long.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a message from Caiden, then another, then another.
Caiden: Couldn’t stay away from Granville?
Caiden: You fucking betrayed me.
Caiden: We’re done.
A forwarded video appeared in the list of messages, and I clicked on it with a trembling hand.
No.
TWENTY-NINE
I dialled Caiden’s number. Straight to voicemail. Next, I tried Cassius, then Weston, then Zayde. All went straight to voicemail.
“Argh!” I shouted, frustrated, tears filling my eyes. What should I do? Nausea filled my stomach—what if I couldn’t explain things? What if Caiden didn’t believe me? I couldn’t even see him in person to tell him what had happened.
If only I’d mentioned what h
ad happened in the library.
Tapping out a message on my phone, I sent it to him, and hoped for the best.
Me: We need to talk. NOTHING HAPPENED. Check your voicemail. Phone me as soon as you get this, PLEASE.
Then I called him and left a message. “Cade, it’s me. Well, I guess you already know that. That video isn’t how it looks.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, trying not to cry. “James cornered me in the library, and he had a black eye. What you saw in the video was me showing concern and trying to comfort him, and then—” I choked back a sob. “—and then, he tried to kiss me, and I froze. As soon as I realised what was going on, I stamped on his foot as hard as I could to make him stop. Cade, you have to believe me… I would never… I only want you.” I was crying by now, and I hung up the phone and buried my face in my arms, leaning on the desk.
Kinslee found me in the same position when she got home. She took one look at me and dragged me into the lounge, where we curled up on the sofa with hot chocolate, and I told her the whole story.
“I can’t believe he would do that! Why would he want to do that to you? I know he and Caiden hate each other, but why drag you into it?”
“I can’t answer that,” I sighed. “I know their dads have some kind of family rivalry, but I have no idea about any of the details. And why was Joseph with him?” I’d worked out—not that it took much deducing—that Joseph had been the one to film us.
“Hmm.” Kinslee pursed her lips in thought, frowning. “I know they’re cousins. So that has to be something to do with it.”
“Cousins? I had no idea.”
She leaned over and gave me a comforting hug. “Listen. I’m sure Caiden will listen to reason, once you see him and have a chance to explain things.”
“I hope so.” I returned her hug, then slumped back on the sofa. “I’m actually pretty fucking pissed off as well, to be honest. Cade should have given me a chance to explain. I thought he’d started to trust me. And yet he was all too willing to jump to conclusions.”
“That’s true.”
We lapsed into silence.
“How hard did you stamp on his foot?” Kinslee suddenly asked.
“As hard as I could.”
“I hope you broke a bone.”
We smirked at each other. “So violent, Kins.”
She shrugged. “What can I say?”
“I love it.”
Cass parked round the back of the club in the private parking area, and we assembled round the side of the car. “Let’s do this. Phones off, otherwise they get confiscated. Heads down, keep an eye on my father.” Everyone nodded, bumping fists, and we headed towards the entrance. My phone buzzed in my pocket.
“Shit, forgot to turn my phone off.” Mentally slapping my forehead, I pulled it out and saw I had a message from an unknown number. Fucking spam. I clicked on it, ready to delete, but stopped when I read the message.
Unknown: Thought you might want to see what Winter was up to earlier.
What the fuck?
A video appeared underneath the message, and I pressed Play.
I saw red.
Through a haze of anger, I sent her a succession of messages and forwarded the video to her.
Fuck!
This was why I didn’t let myself get involved. Winter had just proved that she couldn’t be trusted. I should have known she was like her mother. How could I have been so fucking blind?
Fuck her. I didn’t need anyone. I had my boys.
“Cade? You coming?” West called me from the doorway to the club, and I realised I’d stopped in the street while they all walked ahead.
“Yeah, coming.” I stabbed the Off button on my phone and thrust it in my pocket, then strode inside to meet the others, my jaw clenched and a pain in my chest.
I stood still while the guy on security searched me, breathing in and out through my nose. The need to punch something was so strong, I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself acting on it. We entered a large, dimly lit wood-panelled room, but I couldn’t fucking concentrate on my surroundings, let alone the task at hand.
Why? Why had she gone back to Granville?
“Mate.” Zayde gripped my arm. “Back in a sec,” he muttered to the others and hustled me into the corner of the room, away from the others. “What’s the problem?” he hissed, when we were alone.
“Nothing.” I stood, arms folded, looking at him blankly.
“Cade.”
“Fucking Winter,” I spat. “Some asshole sent me a video of her all over Granville. Today. I knew I couldn’t trust her. She’s just as bad as that f—”
“Back up a minute.” Zayde held his hand up in my face, silencing me. “Calm down, will ya? Don’t say anything you might regret. Who sent the video, and how do you know it happened today?”
“Don’t know who sent it. It came from an unknown number. It was date-stamped today.”
“Show me the video when we get out of here, but don’t jump to conclusions, mate. She’s really into you—fuck knows why.” He gave me a small smirk, then shook his head. “Remember why we’re here. Get your head in the game. We can sort this shit out later.”
I stared at him in silence.
He levelled me with a hard look—his serial killer stare, as Winter had called it once. No. Forget her.
“Okay. Fine. Let’s do this,” I said, moving past him and heading back to Cass and West.
“Ready?” Cass handed me a glass of whiskey.
Showtime.
Letting my mask drop into place, I pushed everything away. I needed to be emotionless, numb, focused on getting as much information as I could. I scanned the room, taking everything in. It was a proper old boys’ club in here, all mutual backslapping and self-congratulatory posturing. A group of men stood to our left, leering at a waitress in a tight skirt leaning over a table to take a drinks order. To our right a poker game was in play, chips piled high in the centre of the table. A polished mahogany bar ran down one wall, red velvet bar stools clustered in front of it. Cigar smoke filled the air, and a low hum of conversation and clinking glasses was a constant sound in my ears.
Two heavy wooden doors led from the room—one directing the way to the toilets, the other unmarked. “Split up and check both doors?” Cass suggested in a low tone.
There was no sign of my father, or any of our fathers, for that matter, so I nodded.
“Cade with me, Z, you go with West.” He headed through the unmarked door, and I followed, leaving Zayde and Weston to check the other. We found ourselves in a long corridor with several doors leading off it, most open. At the very end of the corridor, directly in front of us, was a closed door with a beefy security guy dressed in black in front of it, arms crossed and a hostile expression on his face.
“Just our fucking luck if Arlo went through there,” Cass muttered, discreetly nodding at the guy.
“We’ll try the other doors first.”
The first room we looked in was also wood-panelled and carpeted, muted light provided by sconces on the wall. In the centre stood a huge table, with neat lines of coke cut and laid out ready on the gleaming surface, and a pile of small, clear bags in the centre. A balding, suited man was leaning over the table, and a security guy stood against the wall, his sharp eyes scanning the room, missing nothing.
“Can I interest you gentlemen in something?” A woman in the shortest, tightest, skimpiest dress I’d seen outside of a strip club sidled up to me, placing her hand on my arm and batting her lashes at me. “We’ve got everything here—” She indicated to the table. “—or if you’re looking for a more…personal service, I can sort you out. I haven’t seen you around here before. I would have definitely remembered.” She moved closer, curling her fingers over my bicep, her fake tits brushing against my arm. I felt nothing.
“You’re wasting your time on him, babe. He’s got a girl already,” Cassius said in a bored tone.
“Most men here do.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t stop them.”
“I don’t have a girl,” I muttered under my breath. Cass glared at me. “Not interested, sorry,” I said more loudly, plucking her hand from my arm and stepping back. “Have you seen my father? Arlo Cavendish?”
She visibly paled, tottering backwards on her sky-high heels. “Oh, s-sir, I’m so sorry. I had no idea you were Mr Cavendish’s son. Please excuse my forward behaviour.”
“Uh. Sure.” Cass and I exchanged glances. “Have you seen him?”
She shook her head mutely, and I nodded towards the door. As we left the room, Zayde and Weston appeared in the corridor. “Any luck?” West asked in a low voice, and I shook my head. Next room. This one had a heavy, closed door, and as soon as I pushed it open, I was hit by the sound of Beyoncé’s “Partition” and a heavy smell of perfume, mixed with sweat and smoke.
“Fuck, yes,” Cass groaned under his breath, his gaze fixated on a woman in the corner of the large darkened room, a spotlight shining on her as she swung around a pole on a small stage, wearing nothing but a black G-string. A cluster of men sat around the stage, some watching, others talking in low tones, heads bent close together. Several women were gyrating on men in darkened booths, and three security guys stood on the edges of the room, watching the goings-on with bored expressions on their faces.
“What the fuck kind of members club is this? Strippers? Lap dancers? Best fucking place ever.” West stared around the room, a huge grin on his face, and I rolled my eyes. He had a point, though. This was…unexpected.
“Uh, Z, I think that’s your dad.” Cass had torn his eyes away from the stripper, and we followed his gaze to the middle booth, where Michael Lowry sat with a topless woman in his lap, smoking a cigar while his other hand disappeared under the table.
Zayde sighed heavily. “Let’s go.”
“You don’t wanna talk to him?” Cass smirked, but Z was already heading out of the room.
We ran straight into my father, coming down the corridor with Paul Drummond, Cassius’ father. Both tall and imposing, impeccably dressed as always.