14. Celia
Chapter 14
Celia
As we pull up to the venue, Rebel is high energy, bouncing his knee in the backseat and tapping my knuckles with his fingertips. The moment we’ve stopped at the curb, he immediately jumps from the vehicle to come around to my side and let me out— “ Like a gentleman,” he’s been insisting for the last half hour.
I have a hard time imagining any of these men as gentleman.
Thanatos catches my reflection in the rearview mirror, his gaze burning into mine. “I’ll see you inside, Princess.”
“I’m not a princess,” I remind him, frowning. “I don’t know why you keep calling me that.”
“Close enough,” he mutters, flicking his gaze to the window.
Ooookay, then.
Just when I think we’ve made progress with our relationship, Thanatos reminds me that he’s as surly as a bear emerging from hibernation. I clench my fists in my lap as flashes of the past few days with him barrage my mind. He’s aggressive when he’s horny and emotionally detached when he isn’t.
Yeah, just like a fucking bear.
My door suddenly snaps open, and the roar of the crowd rushes into the cab. I throw one quick glance at Thanatos to find him staring at me through the rearview again. “You know,” I huff, “if you took a page from your brother’s book, you might actually enjoy life.” Shaking my head, I grab my clutch purse and take a calming breath before accepting Rebel’s outstretched hand and allowing him to pull me onto the red carpet.
Flashing lights blind me before I can get a good look at the scene, and I plaster on a winning smile before my vision has cleared. Paparazzi shout in our direction, but Rebel remains calm as he curls his arm possessively around my waist and meets my smile with a dazzling one of his own.
Leaning close, he murmurs in my ear. “Ready for the wolves?”
“It’s not these wolves I’m worried about.”
We talked through our game plan for the night extensively, going through possible scenarios and how to handle getting separated in a crowd. If we see their father—if we have an opening—we’re going to take him out.
Their lone wolf of a father is being hunted— tonight.
Rebel’s smile glints in the flashing lights, his sharp canines making him appear as wild on the outside as he is within. “You look good with murder in your eyes, baby.” Winking, he pulls me along the walkway even faster, cutting through the meandering guests to enter the venue ahead of our scheduled time. Unlike his brothers, he’s eager for the night’s festivities—regardless of if that entails watching a team of acrobats swing through the air… or stabbing his father in the throat during the intermission. He’d be thrilled with either outcome.
Although our procession is cut short, I smile toward the cameras and try my best to look the part of the glamorous socialite, despite the butterflies in my gut. In truth, this is my first public appearance since my divorce, and I have not one man accompanying me, but four .
That’s four distinct chances to make a fool of myself in front of the entire city.
But with Rebel by my side, the odds of public embarrassment dwindle before my eyes. He plays to the camera, knowing exactly how to angle our bodies for the perfect photograph. A hand on my lower back, a whisper in my ear, a gentle brush of his lips across my forehead—nothing is off-limits if it means he can keep touching me and maintain the attention of the crowd. More often than not, I catch him staring at me rather than at our destination.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” I murmur, meeting his eyes. There’s a depth to them that our surroundings can’t mask, no matter how loud or chaotic it gets. When he looks at me, sometimes I think he loses focus on everything else and gets caught in the moment.
“Doing what?” he asks, his lips curving into a delicious smirk. A lock of jet-black hair falls into his eyes, making him even more devilishly handsome. Without his lip piercing and tattoos, he could almost pass for a gentleman—if it weren’t for the hand hovering dangerously close to my ass.
“Looking at me.” I avoid his heavy gaze, my heart squeezing a little too tightly. It’s how they all look at me, actually, that throws me off-balance. Rebel’s stare is a warm glow that radiates through my body from my head to my toes—leaving no room for a single inch of neglect. The attention is overwhelming, but when we mutually decided to drop our barriers and do this thing together… I guess he decided to fall first—and fast.
He may not even realize that he’s in love.
As Rebel cups my chin and tilts my head up, I part my lips in anticipation of his kiss. Instead, he brushes his thumb across my bottom lip. “You’re the best part of my night.” He presses a slow kiss to my jawline. “All I want to do—” his lips ghost across my skin as they travel higher—“is look at you.” Humming softly, he brushes the tip of his nose against mine, our faces mere inches apart. “Among other things.”
My cheeks flush and my heart skips a beat, but it’s not from the innuendo. It’s from how quickly and easily it is to love him back.
“You believe me, don’t you?” There’s a subtle hint of vulnerability to his words, like we’re not only talking about tonight, but about something bigger than the gala and the gowns.
As his hands wander my waistline, I grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer, our audience be damned. Even now, when he’s dressed to the nines and oozing money, he still smells like leather and smoke. I breathe in his scent, unable to resist.
He smells like home.
“Yes,” I whisper, “I do.”
His lips linger a mere inch from mine as he groans, clutching at my dress. “Fuck, I love hearing you say that. Fuck. ” Crashing into me, he steals a kiss that knocks the air from my lungs and tilts my world on its axis. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m dimly aware that he’s dipped me, bending me backwards with a promise that he’ll catch me—hold me—keep me. He grins against my lips as someone in the crowd whistles. We laugh together, breathless and giddy, as he pulls me upright.
“You look fucking amazing in that dress,” he rumbles, nipping the shell of my ear as we blindly walk onwards toward the front entrance, the two of us too enraptured in each other to care for the rest of the journey. We skip the photo shoot and step around couples waiting for their glamour shots. “I’m getting hard just looking at you.” He laughs, a throaty rasp that catches in his throat. “Damn, baby, gonna have me at half-mast all night.”
I join in his laughter, the sound bubbling up like champagne. Light. Fizzy. Freeing. Beginning the night with Rebel may have been a tactical move to loosen me up, but I can’t fault Rage for it when it’s clearly working.
I feel lighter than I have in years.
We finally pass through the high arch leading into a small courtyard where guests can freshen up before checking their coats and handbags. I keep my clutch pinched under my arm as we approach the doors.
“Tickets,” an usher wearing a white suit commands, holding his hand out for them. I quickly produce our three remaining tickets for Rebel, Thanatos, and myself and hand them over. “This one will come behind us,” I assure the usher, keeping my smile up as I tap Thanatos’s ticket with my fingertip.
“All guests have to arrive together,” the man drones, already looking behind us at the next approaching guests. “You can wait for him here.”
My smile freezes in place while I channel my mother’s willpower. Adella Monrovia isn’t a woman who is told no—and I’ll be damned if I let all of her strict lessons from my childhood go to waste.
A woman has to speak up for herself because no one else will do it for her.
“We’ll be going inside now,” I tell him, digging the tips of my manicure into his palm. “And you’ll let my friend through once he arrives.” The ticket crinkles at each point of contact, softening the sting of my fingernails, but the effect is the same as if I’d punctured the man’s skin. He stiffens from head to toe and waits for me to remove my hand before attaching Thanatos’s ticket to the top of his clipboard. Clearing his throat, he nods towards a security guard a few feet away. “Turn in all electronics and concealed carry weapons, and you can go through.”
Rebel makes a show about unclipping a handgun from his waist and turning it in. We discussed this as part of our plan—turn in the most obvious weapons and keep one hidden on your body. Mine is a knife the size of my finger strapped to my thigh, while Rebel has a larger one concealed in the sole of his shoe. I’m not sure what the others are carrying, but after seeing the vast array of options in the weapons locker, I have little doubt that they found something suitable for the evening for each of them.
Once inside the venue, I take a cursory glance around the room, taking in the dozen or so gambling tables set up in the center of the room and the slot machines lining one of the walls. All proceeds for the night are supposed to go to the various charities sponsored by the city’s wealthiest elite, but I can hear the clink of poker chips, the tumble of dice, and the raucous laughter that follows from thirty feet away. People are going to get carried away when betting their money, and more than a few of them are going home with fat dollar bills lining their wallets and purses.
It’s how the rich like to play—for themselves.
Rebel steers us directly into the fray, landing at the closest gambling table using cards. “Watch me, baby.” He licks a stripe across his front teeth and grins. “I’m gonna win you a diamond ring.”
My heart stumbles. “A diamond?”
He isn’t thinking of proposing , is he?
Still grinning, Rebel winks. “Mhm. A diamond ring for my diamond girl. Look at her sparkle, boys!” He waves toward my dress, and I laugh as it dawns on me.
Diamond. Not a wedding ring, but a reference to my shimmering dress. The dripping stones catch the light with every move I make, making it impossible to blend into the crowd. Although the other women have kept to the event’s casino theme, very few of them chose such an eye-catching design, sticking to metallic fabrics and rhinestone bodices in blacks, silvers, or golds. My dress, however, reflects the tiniest specks of light in all directions, catching the eyes of anyone whose mind wanders amidst their conversations.
I lean into Rebel’s side and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Better win for me then, baby.” I lift my hand and wiggle my ringless fingers to showcase how empty they are. “Mama needs her sparkle.”
A low-pitched moan catches in Rebel’s throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
While the table plays another round, someone approaches us with a suitcase filled with poker chips lying in neat rows, while his partner supplies a locked cash box. They quickly exchange my date’s cash for multiple stacks of chips in red, black, blue, and green, placing all four colors inside a rack for us to carry.
Rebel sets it on the table and claps his hands together as he takes a seat. Glancing at the dealer’s name tag, Rebel raps his knuckles on the felt top. “Don’t let me down, now, Reggie. You heard my girl—she wants a diamond, so show me a diamond!” After checking the hand he’s been dealt, Rebel slides a few chips onto the table to bet on whatever he’s looking for as the dealer flips cards over. A neon sign hanging over the table reads Blackjack in bright red letters.
My mind wanders as Rebel plays his first game. Where are the others? Is their dad even here? If he isn’t, will he show up at all, or are we wasting our time gambling and socializing when we should be out on the streets, as Ruin puts it, “hunting.”
Grabbing my hand, Rebel pulls me from my thoughts and into his lap, keeping my back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around my waist. “You’re my good luck charm,” he murmurs, kissing the curve of my neck. “Do you know how to play?”
I shake my head. “I don’t really need to know.”
Chuffing, he plays with the slit on my dress over my thigh, fingering the seam with one hand while he places a new bet with the other. More cards flip, with one given to each player, and one of the other men at the table curses under his breath as the dealer swipes all three of his cards into a discard stack. Rebel slips his hand beneath my skirt and rubs my bare thigh. “Here, I’ll fold this round, and then I’ll explain the rules while the next one plays.”
Blackjack, as it turns out, is a fast-paced game where winning is determined by chance. Rebel feeds into the chaos, snickering as his opponents “bust” by going over twenty-one points and making them glare in our direction. He pays their animosity no mind, too focused on rubbing his crotch on my ass and tossing chips onto the table. Once he’s fully erect, he sighs into my neck and bites down, making me squeal from the sudden burst of pain.
“A lady shouldn’t be at the table,” an older player gruffs, scowling at us.
My face blooms a deeper shade of pink as I’m stunned into silence. There are beautiful women crawling all over the room—some of whom are stuck wearing skin-tight leotards and tights while serving guests like this guy, for fuck’s sake. If this man has a problem with women, he should go to a gentleman-only game in the basement of one of the city’s bars, not a VIP charity event.
I grab a glass of amber liquid from a passing server and down the drink in three large swallows, a trickle dripping from the corner of my lips as the alcohol burns my throat. Rebel is quick to lick the spill, a hum buzzing in his chest as he nips my jaw. “Good thing I’m not a lady,” I drawl, setting my empty glass down on the table.
“Damn right, you’re not,” Rebel groans, slipping his hand between my slick thighs. He shivers as his fingertips glide across my heated skin, and I spread my thighs wider for him to feel even more.
The man’s gaze narrows before it flickers to the edge of the table covering my body from the waist down. “So you’re a whore, then. Guess that means those tits are for sale.” With a grunt, he shoves his entire stack of poker chips towards me.
Our dealer shuffles the deck, keeping his eyes glued to the cards as he riffles them between his hands.
I guess the staff is paid to ignore sick fucking bastards if they have enough money.
“Come sit in my lap, sweetheart. I’ll show you how a real man treats a woman.”
The other guests at the table suddenly disperse. Even the dealer, the guy paid to be here, picks up his cards and slips into the crowd, leaving the three of us to handle things ourselves. The back of my neck prickles, and I know that people are watching, likely Rage or Ruin, or maybe even Thanatos. The rest of the crowd ignores us completely, either too caught up in their own world to care or too corrupt to interrupt.
“She’s taken,” Rebel snaps, wrapping his fist around the knife strapped to my thigh. “Fuck off.”
“What, you think because you’re some pretty boy, you’re too good to share? If she’s a whore, then your dick isn’t the only one she’s sucking tonight?—”
Rebel’s arm jerks under the table, and the man inhales sharply while his face suddenly reddens, matching the bright neon sign overhead. His lips part, but no sound comes out even as they flop open and closed over and over again. Beads of sweat collect on his forehead as Rebel grins over at him.
“Listen here, fuckface. What I do with my woman is none of your goddamn business.” Rebel’s arm flexes across my thigh and he twists his wrist in small, circular motions. The muted sound of wet flesh is drowned out by someone winning a jackpot on the slot machines, the screams from the excited winner flooding the air as witnesses clap in celebration.
I grab the holster over my thigh, but I already know that the knife is missing. Keeping my face neutral, I then grab Rebel’s wrist to stop him from carving a hole into the man’s leg, no matter how small of a hole it would be. I cover my face with my hair and press my lips to Rebel’s ear. “We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Stabbing someone in the leg is not keeping a low profile!”
“Neither is fingering you under the table, but some risks are worth it.” After stealing a quick kiss, Rebel pulls the knife from the man’s leg and slams the sole of his shoe on his chair legs, toppling him over onto his back.
“Rebel!” I hiss, noticing the spark of violence in his eyes for the first time. Is it because that guy called me a whore, or is he itching for a prelim before we meet his father? “We’re going to get kicked out!”
He shrugs, nonchalant as ever as he helps me stand, grabs our chips, and laces our fingers together to pull me away from the table. “Worth it.”
I follow him to another gambling table, but this time when he sits down, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and lean over the back of his chair, careful to whisper low enough that only he can hear me. “Tonight isn’t about us,” I remind him, keeping an eye on the security guard that walks over. He hovers near the dealer but keeps his eyes locked on Rebel the entire time.
So much for staying under the radar.
“We’re here to keep Ruin alive,” I continue, tapping my fingertips against Rebel’s chest. Although he keeps his posture loose and his eyes on the game, I can feel his heartbeat quicken when I press my lips to his pulse point. Flicking my tongue against it, I love the way he swallows and fumbles his chip drop, the plastic coin tumbling into an empty cupholder.
“Wash my fucking knife,” I growl, “before it ends up in your thigh.”
Rebel folds his cards immediately and jumps to his feet, squeezing my hand so tightly that it hurts. Leaving all of his chips on the table, he drags me away from the gambling hall and to the bathroom in the back, ignoring the Men Only sign as he whisks us inside. Locking the deadbolt on the door, he spins around to face me. “Celia.” Advancing slowly, he smirks, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “Did you just threaten to stab me?” He pulls my little knife from his pocket and waves it between us. “Do you know how fucking hot that is? Shit, did they hear it, too?” He fiddles with his earpiece, clicking it on with a muttered curse, then helps me with mine.
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s not the point. You can’t lose focus tonight. This is too important.”
Rebel’s face falls instantly. He tosses the knife into the sink behind him before taking a step closer. “Shit, baby, you’re right. You know you’re right. I let the game get to me, and that guy—” He clenches his teeth. “—can’t fucking call you that. No one can call you that.”
“To be fair, I walked into it when I said I wasn’t a lady.”
“Not the point,” he parrots back at me. “But you’re right. I need to focus.” Grabbing the tent in the front of his pants, he tosses his head back and groans. “Fuck, I’m rock hard.”
Rage’s voice clicks over our comms. “ Again? Why the fuck are you hard?”
“Where are you?” It’s Ruin speaking this time. “I can’t see you.”
“We’re in the men’s room,” I sigh, frowning as Rebel rubs the thick outline of his cock. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I was tempted, but it’s like I said. We can’t lose focus tonight. “Rebel stabbed someone.”
“It’s a small knife!”
“It’s my knife!”
Whining, Rebel hangs his head. “I know, baby, you’re right. You should get to stab whoever you want. I’ll clean it.” He spins around and soaps up the blade, carefully washing the blood and skin off. “Bastard fucking deserved it, though.”
Thanatos’s voice rumbles across the line. “You two need to cool it. We just got here, and you’re already maiming people. Save it for Dad.”
“Someone else got hurt? Who?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Rage rumbles.
I bet he’s the one who lost his cool. Rolling my eyes, I plant my foot on Rebel’s thigh so that he can return my knife to its holster. “Is it time to switch yet?”
“It’s a little early, but I think we should. You two did a good job walking inside, but there’s too much heat from security. We need to lay low.”
Rebel admires my heel for a moment before sliding his palm up my bare calf, taking his time with returning my knife. He leans over and kisses my thigh, sending goosebumps across my skin. “You look way too damn good like this, baby.” Carefully, he slips the knife back into its sheath and caresses the leather strap holding it in place. “We’ve gotta load you up soon. Knives, guns, fuck. Can you imagine how that much metal will look on your skin?” He nips the soft flesh on my inner thigh, making my muscles clench. “I can smell you from here.” Groaning, his eyes flick up to my pussy, begging for a glimpse. “You’ll let me fuck you with one, right? Please?”
Someone exhales harshly across the comms. My body ignites, lust pinning me to the spot. “Wh-what?”
Fuck me with what?
“ Rebel. ” Rage’s voice rumbles like thunder.
A fourth voice joins the conversation, quietly murmuring something that I can barely hear, but I do hear it.
We all do.
“She creamed all over my knife.”
I gasp, completely mortified. None of them ever mentioned the knife incident with Ruin before, so he must not have told them… until… now…
Rebel grins like the cat who caught the canary. “Oh, baby… did you let Ruin touch you with his knife, after all?” He draws circles on my skin with his thumbs. “That’s dangerous. A man could get addicted to something as pretty as that.” Addressing Ruin, he continues, “did she take it all the way?”
My body trembles at the memory of Ruin’s knife slipping between my thighs, and now, more than ever, I wish I were wearing panties.
I’m dripping wet.
The group hangs on Ruin’s every word, suddenly aching for the younger man to speak. I hold my breath as I count the seconds, praying that he sticks to his usual method of conversation: grunting. A full minute passes before he exhales, the two of us taking our next breaths together. “She can take more. Her pussy wants more. Again and again and again, krosotka. All pretty in red tonight.” He sucks in another breath, his voice cracking with his next words. “Is she wet, Rebel?” I can hear him lick his lips. “I want a taste.”
With a squeak, I bat away Rebel’s grabby hands and throw my clutch at his chest. He catches it, grinning wolfishly as I frantically unlock the door behind my back. As much as I’d love for Rebel to go down on me while his brothers can’t do anything but listen, if we get sidetracked, the whole plan for tonight goes up in smoke.
But a little teasing... that could be fun.
“Don’t run away, beautiful. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. A little knife play is fun. It’s kinky. We like it.”
I shake my head and laugh, knowing that all of them can hear me. My fucked-up men, all four of them, even Thanatos. “Maybe I’m not running away,” I counter, grinning. “Maybe I’m running to something.” I blow Rebel a kiss before opening the door and walking backwards through it, loving the way his face lights up.
“Who brought the biggest knife, boys?” I glance around the room, unable to see any of them, but knowing that they can see me. They’re always watching, waiting for their turn. “I think it’s time for a switch. Any volunteers?”