Chapter 34
Yeah. This is going to be a slow fucking death. Humiliating, too.
I scoff internally at the ridiculous dress clinging to my body. It's thin. Barely fucking there. I practically had to wear damn floss between my cheeks and tape my tits into this monstrosity. I look down at them with a frown. They’ve been so damn tender lately, like I’m about to start my period but haven’t. It’s probably the stress of this adventure forcing Mother Nature into hiding. Good thing I’d rather not have to deal with tampons and pads with Shadow. It was bad enough with Arrow, Shepp, and Jericho, especially when Arrow took me to the damn store.
It was mortifying. Yet, romantic in a way.
Shadow hums an ominous tune under his breath beside me, reeking of aftershave. I swear my stomach turns more from his fragrance than the task.
The limo Shadow forced me into after we got off the miserable boat—which, yeah, made me sicker than hell—comes to a slow stop. Right outside the luxurious hotel I've only dreamed about entering.
Well, on my own, anyway. I've been here a few times under pretenses, spying on whoever the hell Gabriel wanted me to watch. Senators? Yup! Done that. Other members of the Viotto Family? Definitely. They all come here to dine at the fancy restaurant attached and then hold meetings as they eat. They never suspected the new server was someone to be concerned with. Or a front desk clerk. Or a bellhop. I’m honestly not sure how I pulled it off. Fake it till you make it.
Like now.
God. I have to pretend I’m fine. Pretending is my strong suit. It’s something I’ve done for years now. I should be used to it. But I’ll never be comfortable wearing a mask twenty-four-seven, playing a part. The only people I didn’t have to wear a mask with were Jericho, Shepp, and Arrow.
They accept me for the hot mess I am.
Sometimes, at least.
My eyes wander, peering through the tinted window. Being here, watching the bright spotlight's beam through the sky, and eyeing the people meandering in—makes me want to hurl again. Seriously, I don’t understand what’s going on with my stomach. It won’t settle, even with crackers and soup. Well, if I had any, that is.
“You better not fucking puke in my presence. I know that’s all you’ve been doing, but hold it back,” Shadow snarks, shifting on the leather seat. When he leans forward, a fresh scent smacks me in the face, knocking me back.
Alcohol.
I wrinkle my nose, attempting not to breathe in his unholy scent. His entire combination has saliva pooling in my mouth and bile shooting up my throat.
What do men say to women all the time? Puke on him; that’ll slow him down from attacking you. Right? I size him up. He’s wearing some fancy suit. It’s wrinkled, giving him the I don't give a fuck attitude. Wait, he probably doesn’t give a fuck about this. Or anyone else. So, a little vomit might spruce up his appearance. It’ll make him smell better, too.
“I won't puke if you sit back,” I gag out, holding a hand over my lips.
Jesus. What is wrong with me? I swear someone laced his food with poison that's slowly destroying my insides. I'm dying. That’s the only answer I can think of.
“You remember the rules?” He grunts, shifting back and taking his gross scent with him. His finger taps on his knee several times with impatience.
I want to cut it off and shove it down his throat until he’s a choking mess. But instead, I’m a good little girl and nod.
“Of course.” How could I forget? He practically beat it into me. Shepp's not here because he's my goddamn insurance.
Shadow is so convinced I'm going to run. I mean, I would have if Shepp were here. But now? I'm stuck doing this stupid job, putting a knife through Elias’ heart. Will I do it? I’m not fucking sure at this point. They’re all wicked men in my fucking book.
He smirks. “What a good little spy you are.”
Replace the word spy with snake, and you have Monster 2.0.
Now, I am going to throw up.
“I won't be stupid.” Maybe not this time. But I'll figure out how to steal a boat eventually and make my escape once and for all. It might take a little time and patience. That’s all I got right now.
A door opens and slams shut near the front of the limo, leaving my nerves buzzing.
This is it. My time to shine. Or kill. Or whatever.
“That's right, you fucking won't be,” he huffs, throwing the door open and nearly knocking over his driver, who has climbed out to open his door.
The driver doesn't flinch when he shuts Shadow’s door. Doesn't offer him a dirty look for practically taking his dick off with the door. Nothing. He goes back to his door and gets in.
Well, so much for helping me.
I sigh when the door slowly opens. The night air rushes into the comfortable air-conditioned cabin, making sweat glisten on every inch of my skin. Shadow's ugly mug peeks in with a smarmy grin, looking me up and down like he didn't dress me up like a living, breathing Barbie Doll.
For fuck's sake.
Shadow holds out his arm expectantly. I dream of chopping it off like his finger, but refrain. Why does the universe hate me so much? Huh? Oh, well. I sigh, shaking off the self-loathing. I have enough of that inside of me to drown in.
Reluctantly, I grab it. On the outside, I look like the happiest person on the planet. For the cameras, of course. But on the inside, I want to recoil and slap his arm away. It's too bad he hasn't given me the weapon to take down Elias yet. Oh, the things I could do with a sharp knife right about now.
He thinks I'm going to murder him.
And he wouldn't be fucking wrong.
"Big happy smiles, Journey. You're here with me. I'm debuting my face for the entire world to see." The smuggest grin I’ve ever seen crosses his lips, and his chest puffs out. He thinks he’s so damn important. But I’m going to show him otherwise. Later.
Shadow yanks me down onto the red carpet in front of the hotel. The camera crew works behind velvet red ropes, capturing everyone who enters the high-profile wedding with curiosity. Shadow waves to them with his free hand, smiling and attempting to be charismatic.
Fuck. I think it’s working.
The people behind the cameras eat it up, following his every move. Reporters bombard us with shouted questions. Who are you? Are you excited about the bride and groom? They keep coming until Shadow pulls us to a stop at the hotel's doors. He turns us, angling us toward the camera and forcing me to plaster on a clenched smile.
“We’re thrilled for the bride and groom!” he bellows with fake joy. “I am Shadow, and this is my lovely date. We’re here to help my business partner celebrate his union with her best friend. It’s an eventful evening.”
Then, all hell breaks loose with the reporters. More yelling. More questions. God, he gave them exactly what they wanted—a newsworthy story. It’s the unveiling of a damn villain. And he implicated me in it all. Wonderful.
Why are there even reporters here, anyway? It seems weird that some gang members are getting married and the local news is interested.
Highly fucking suspect, if you ask me.
Shadow yanks me into the hotel with little regard to how I’m faring in these stupid heels he pushed on my feet. I swear to God, I will give him a taste of his own medicine soon.
As soon as we enter the hotel, my breath leaves my lungs. Sure, I’ve been here before, taking in the people. But I’ve never had the chance to stop and look around. Elegance meets the eyes. Everywhere. Even on the outside of the massive limestone building. Marbled floors and countertops. Chandeliers illuminate the tall ceilings. A baby grand piano with a player behind it sits in the corner, offering guests a beautiful, tranquil melody.
“Remember what I fucking said,” Shadow hisses, slowing his pace as we make our way through the grand lobby.
“Of course,” I hum, staring daggers in his direction.
If he sees my death stare, he doesn’t comment. He drags me toward a set of wooden doors near the back of the lobby with a sign that reads: Presidential Conference Suite. I nearly snort at the sight of the two big, burly security guards watching us approach. They remind me of Secret Service members with their black suits and sunglasses. What douchebags wear sunglasses inside, anyway?
"Invitations?" the man demands, holding out his hand.
I take it back. He doesn’t look like a Secret Service man. He reminds me of those guards who sit on top of horses and aren’t allowed to speak to you, smile, or show emotion.
Shadow smiles more. Giving me the damn ick. Then, he retrieves the invitation tucked into his suit jacket and presents it to the guard with smug satisfaction. The guard looks at him up and down, then scans his invitation with a wand and hums.
"Shadow," he says, never changing his emotions. Although, if his douchey inside sunglasses were off, I’m sure I’d see that spark of recognition in his eyes. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Ew. Of course, this guard is going to try and suck up to Shadow. All these people think he’s some God or something. But he’s just a twat who should have died three years ago.
"Yeah, yeah. Can we go in now?" He waves a hand impatiently.
The guard gives him a sharp nod of approval. "Of course, sir. Enjoy the festivities." He gestures to a small checkpoint. "But first, we'll have to ask you both to walk through the metal detector."
"Of course," Shadow says. "Precautions and all."
"Can never be too careful, sir." There's a bite in his voice as he narrows his eyes. It’s like his Spidey senses are tingly. Rightfully fucking so. Shadow’s entire persona screams, I’m about to do something illegal!
I don't know how he will pull off getting a weapon here. But somehow, when we waltz through the machine, it doesn't beep. Shadow nods at the security guard manning the metal detector. He looks at Shadow with awe and wide eyes while bobbing his head with a smirk.
Oh, I see. That's how he’s getting a weapon in here. He just needed a little help from his pal manning the metal detector. How many other assholes does he have on his tab?
The solid wood doors open automatically when we step up to them. Shadow forcefully puts my hand back into the crook of his arm, and then we waltz forward in sync. He looks everywhere, dragging his gaze along every person standing in what looks like another lobby. My brows furrow. It’s a carbon copy of the hotel lobby, except there is no front desk. It’s miles and miles of marble flooring with fancy decorations. People stand in tight circles, whispering with bubbly drinks in their flutes. Men wear black suits with ties, and women wear fancy dresses that cover everything. Fuck. I look down at my dress, nearly sneering at myself. He dressed me like some hooker looking for a good time.
Whatever. I can’t change that now. So, on to the more important questions.
"So, he's under your thumb, huh?" I question, keeping the irritation out of my voice. Half of me wanted someone to stop him and take his weapons before we could even enter the wedding. But he’s way too prepared for this. My nerves prickle at that realization. If he’s this prepared, then what else does this fucking monster have up his sleeves?
"You're a mighty observant gnat, aren't you?" he spits, walking faster with me in tow.
"Well, I learned from the best." I shrug.
"Is that what Gabriel taught you?" He side-eyes me with his brows raised.
"Gabriel taught me many things, but people-watching was my number one skill." But that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? He wants to use my skills and everything to get what he wants.
"So a murderer and a good read on people, good to know," he says when we stop behind a small line of people waiting to enter the room.
Step by step, we slowly inch into the wedding hall. Excitement hums through me for an entirely different reason besides murder. It’s for Jenni. I haven’t seen her in weeks. I haven't seen her since I completed my mission, and Elias rescued Jenni and took her away.
People pack several rows of decorated chairs, fit for a wedding for a damn queen. My eyes scan all the faces, not seeing anyone familiar. Whoever they are, they’re pumped to witness Elias and Jenni’s union. Their smiles light up the damn room.
“Let’s find our seat, shall we?”