8. Bash
Chapter 8
Bash
“How dare you ruin my dress!” Mrs. Winston’s voice hits an all-time high. Her face is as red as the wine that’s stained the pale blue fabric, turning it into an ugly, bruised color.
“I’m sorry. I’ll pay for it.” The server’s head is bowed low as the woman berates him.
She scoffs. “Do you have any idea how much this costs? More than anything you will own in your entire pathetic life.”
I glance to where Stasia’s disappeared into the hallway, scarlet hair flickering out of sight just as this woman screamed like she’d been stabbed instead of slightly inconvenienced.
I fucking hate people like this. Ones who let their money and position within the Order of Saints inflate their egos until they believe the world is beneath them.
She has one hand gripping the poor server’s collar, and I grip the other one just before she can swing it forward.
“Do not touch him,” I grind out.
Her eyes shoot up, and her mouth drops open at my firm command. “Of course. I would never.”
I raise a brow, releasing her arm, and take my time to carefully unfold my handkerchief bit by bit. I make a show of wiping my hand before dropping the expensive bit of cloth to the ground.
By the time I’m finished, she’s turned her rage on me, opening her mouth to no doubt yell at me. If I wasn’t already intrigued with my girl who got away, it would be entertaining to hear whatever this woman’s about to spit out at me.
Just before she could learn how foolish that would be, her daughter wraps her arm around her mother’s waist, giving her a firm tug. “I’m so sorry. My mother hasn’t been feeling well.”
I wait, letting the air grow cold around us, watching as both mother’s and daughter’s gazes round before slightly tilting my head forward. “Feel better.”
“Thank you. I’ll take her home right away,” the daughter says, but I’m not letting them off that easily.
“Don’t you owe him an apology?” I gesture to the waiter, who’s staring at the ground as if he wishes a teleportation portal would appear and whisk him off from here.
“Apologize?” Both women suck in shocked breaths like I asked them to walk on water rather than show some human decency. That being said, I can’t say what I’m doing is one hundred percent for the server’s benefit and not for my own amusement.
“Yes. Ask for forgiveness,” I state clearly.
“But he’s just a server—-” The daughter realizes her mistake before finishing her sentence. Ah…so the mother and daughter aren’t so different after all.
She clears her throat. “What I mean to say is he did ruin the dress. Wouldn’t it be he who has to apologize?”
Hmmm. “That’s true…”
The daughter’s eyes brighten like she’s somehow won this.
“But I heard him tell you several times. Which is why it’s your turn, Mrs. Winston, to say you’re sorry.”
There’s a muscle ticking in the older woman’s cheek, giving away her thoughts. She’s probably never expressed remorse to anyone in her adult life. Especially not someone who she’d deem below her. I have no idea where they get this self-importance from because no matter who they are, they are below the Lords of the Order of Saints. All her power is a mirage that can be lost.
My thoughts must show because she turns pale as the blood leaches from her face.
“I’m…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
“Your sorry is one thing, but don’t you think that would be expressed better with money?” The server tenses as I continue. He’s smart to remain looking at the ground. So long as the women can only focus on me, there’s nothing they can do. “You have so much, and he has so little. After all, one of your many dresses costs more than…what did you say…oh, yes…his entire pathetic life?”
“I will no—” Mrs. Winston’s working herself up again, but her daughter’s faster, whipping open her clutch. She doesn’t have a lot in there, but as expected, she has a few bills tucked away. No doubt nothing but change in her mind.
“Here, is this enough?” she asks the server, who is slowly rising.
His brows are pulled in and up as if he’s just trying to figure out what the hell is happening. He robotically takes the money in hand and gives a low bow. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to ruin your dress.”
The daughter grabs her mother’s arm and whisks her deeper into the ballroom before she can embarrass them anymore. Pity. I was having fun.
“Um…sir.” The server’s raised from his bow, but he’s still looking down. “Thank you…I…that’s it. Thank you.”
“No problem. Don’t come back here. You aren’t cut out for this place.”
He nods in response and pulls his wallet from his pocket. The black leather is bulging as it strains to remain shut.
I tilt my head as he takes it out, not noticing how closely I’m watching him. I huff out a laugh when he cracks it open, revealing several thousand dollars’ worth of bills already tucked inside.
“With cash like that, why are you even here?”
His throat bobs as he swallows, and his fingers tremble as they close his wallet with a sharp click. He doesn’t look at me as he says, “They’re just tips from tonight. There are a lot of very kind people here.”
I chuckle, but he’s caught more of my curiosity than he can handle. “There isn’t a single person here that would give you anything, even if it would save your life. So why don’t you start from the beginning and explain what it’s really from?”
He’s ghost white as he glances behind him to the hallway and back to me as if gauging which of the two evils to go with.
What is he up to? I rewind the events of tonight in my mind. The Winstons forking up money. Them harassing the server… The server dropping drinks on her… Stasia…Stasia disappearing out of sight in the chaos of the accident. Don’t tell me… “Are you working with Miss Volkov?”
“I…don’t know everyone’s name yet. It’s my first day. Please don’t tell my boss.”
“Anastasia Volkov. Stunning, blue eyes, red hair…”
His eyes widen in recognition.
Gotcha. Warmth bubbles in my chest as fascination builds. What is she scheming now? “So you’re working with Miss Volkov.”
“No, Sir.”
“I’d be pissed that you’re lying to me, but I’ll admit that I’m a little impressed that you’re keeping your word to Stasia. It won’t end well for you though.”
“Stasia?” the server repeats. “Wait, you’re the guy who was speaking with her. Are you two close?”
My jaw ticks in the effort to keep my smile from my face. “You could say that.”
“I guess it’s fine, then. She asked me to provide a short distraction.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t say where she was going. Just to be here at this time to create a diversion. I thought she was sneaking out.”
I run my tongue along the sharp edge of my teeth. There’s an unsettling feeling twisting through me at the thought of her disappearing out of here to meet someone else. “Where did she go?”
“She just…” His words cut off, and he takes a step back but is smart enough not to flee. “She went through that hall. That’s all I know, I swear.”
He’s not finished explaining when I go around him and head toward where I saw Stasia disappear. I’ve given her way too long of a head start, letting myself be distracted. Although, now I’m eager to know what she’s doing even more. Whatever it is, it’s more than just boredom. You don’t bribe a waiter with that amount of money if you aren’t plotting something. I should tell my brothers, but I’m not going to do that. I intend to catch her on my own, to be the only one who figures her out. For the present time, I’ll watch over her. See what kind of trouble she gets up to.
The hallway is empty, with a clear view from one end to the other. There are no exits here, just rooms where they store the chairs and tables when they aren’t using them. My steps are quiet, muffled by the carpet, as I search the entire right wing of the hall. As expected, each room I open is nothing but decorations.
My phone dings.
Damon: Where are you?
Fuck. I forgot we had an Order meeting tonight.
There’s a hum of electricity under my skin as I turn in a one-eighty circle and look down the hall to where the Vault entrance is. There’s no way she’d be that crazy, would she? I bite the corner of my mouth. God, I hope she is.
My steps pick up as I eat through the distance, each pace driving my heart rate further. It’s impossible for her to enter the Vault, so what the hell is she trying to do?
I’m feet away from the entrance when there’s a tin-like click to my right, and the light gray storage door opens, revealing a silver wolf–masked face hidden under an Order of Saints black hood.
“Who are you?”
They clear their throat, head tilted down in respect. “Volkov.”
I rock back on my heels. Was he really here all this time? Stasia just wanted to meet her brother? The tension that’s been building in my spine since finding out she paid for a distraction dissipates. “Are you sick?”
More throat clearing. “Fine.”
I look down the other end of the hallway. “Where’s your sister?”
He stiffens, as if frozen in place.
“Good evening, Lord.” Another hooded figure comes up beside us, bowing low, followed by another and another until it’s impossible for me to continue questioning Volkov without bringing suspicion. I’ll have to keep a close eye on the siblings.
The men can’t rise until I let them. This is exactly why my brothers and I enter through a different entrance. Fuck.
I breathe in through my nose, shoving down the thoughts of Anastasia for later, and turn wordlessly. The Lord’s entrance is only a few steps away, but it’s enough to escape them. Everything about these Order meetings has become stale, but something tells me tonight will be different.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Matthias asks as I walk in, looking no happier than I am to be here.
I shrug, still too focused on the events of tonight to be fully in the moment. “I got distracted.”
Damon claps me over the back of the head. “Well, get undistracted. I want to get this over with. Misty says she has a surprise for me.”
“Oh…what kind of surprise.” I play into it, giving him a playful leer. I’m quick to dodge his second hit.
“You may be my little brother, but don’t for a minute think I won’t kill you for thinking about my wife like that.”
The smile wipes from my face. I wish I didn’t believe him, but I absolutely do. I wouldn’t mess with either of my brothers when it came to their wives. Not that I can blame them. I’d be right there with them if someone fucked with one of my sisters.
“It’s you who has to be quick. You’re the one who runs these fucking things,” Matthias says to Damon.
I barely hear them as I work through the events of tonight. Stasia paid for a distraction, to see her brother before he went into the Vault. Why? What couldn’t she have said to him while they were at the gala? Or was I right, and he was never in there to begin with? There’s something else, more niggling in the back of my mind. Something that’s just out of reach as I go through everything piece by piece. I keep asking myself why over and over. Why couldn’t she have talked to him on her own? Why did she need help?
It’s as if a switch clicks in my head, and my thoughts tumble faster. What if I was right, and he wasn’t at the gala? Did she have to create a distraction to be able to talk to him before the Order meeting? What could be so important that she had to risk getting caught out here. Cell phones don’t work in the Vault, but they operate fine in the hall. No…I’m asking the wrong question. I don’t have sufficient information to figure out why she’s doing anything.
The real question is…where did she go?