23. June #3
I note how stiff each of these men gets at her persistence to separate me from them.
It's not about my safety, they made it clear that I wouldn't be harmed here, not with the rules in place about making it a violence-free zone.
Other than a truce, like the temporary one they made with Simon, this giant home is one of the few places all these enemies can gather and not worry about having their throat slit.
Winnie points into a room that’s just off the foyer. “Go have a drink, relax. I’ll take good care of her.”
Dominic stands there, not giving much emotion away. He can’t break character in front of all these watchful stares.
Magnus winks at me—a silent gesture that tells me I got this.
Coen scans the crowd in search of any threat, even though I was told there would be none.
His gaze halts and I follow it to see Simon leaning against the railing of a large arched staircase that leads to what I can only imagine is a beautifully decorated second floor.
Everything about this place screams, I have too much money and don’t know what to do with it.
It's fitting though, considering the things I've seen Dom blow his cash on without a care in the world.
Me specifically. He brought out ten thousand dollars to dinner that one evening and dropped it next to my plate like it was no big deal at all.
That's a life-changing amount of money for someone as broke as I am.
Winnie, which is weird to refer to her by considering I barely know her, continues to pull me through the expansive foyer and down a long hallway. She leads me into a closed-off room, latching the door shut behind us. The noise from the crowd dies down immediately. Are those soundproof walls?
The new space is clearly an office, with a large dark wooden desk off to one side, and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books opposite of it. A patio door leads to a darkened area that I can’t quite make out from my spot near the entrance.
“Come on in.” Winnie glides over to an elaborate drink station that resembles the one in the living room of the house I’m currently living in. “May I make you a drink? Bourbon, whiskey, rum, vodka…pick your poison.”
I clear my throat and take a few cautious steps toward her. “Bourbon, please. Neat.”
She raises a brow and cocks her head to glance at me. “Has that always been your choice or have those boys converted you?”
“I’ve always preferred it.” Although I never knew what I was missing until I tasted a few of the brands they frequent.
“A woman with good taste.” She hands me a glass with two fingers of golden liquid and extends the one in her hands. “What shall we toast?”
“How about new beginnings?” Because isn’t she planning on being done with this life once someone else gains control? A strange retirement of sorts given her late husband is no longer ruling this criminal organization.
“To new beginnings, may they be worth the sacrifices.” Winnie maintains eye contact with me as we clink our glasses together. I don’t dare mention the old superstition about what would happen if you broke it. I’m not sure she’d get the humor in potentially having seven years of bad sex.
I bring the thick crystal to my lips, inhaling the delicious warmth of the bourbon. I take a sip and wait for her to make her next move. “Thank you, this is lovely.”
Winnie sits on the plush couch and pats her hand on the spot near hers. “Now that it’s just us girls, let’s chat.”
I do a quick scan of the room before sitting. I could easily dive right into how worthy Dominic is of claiming the throne but I decide to hold off and see where she goes with the conversation.
“That’s a rather exquisite gown you’re wearing tonight.” She reaches forward and grazes her fingers against the fabric. This woman definitely doesn’t know what personal space is.
I glance down at her aged hands. “I don’t disagree. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s in good company.” Winnie places her glass on the small table next to her side of the couch. “I saw one similar to it at an Armani show.”
I blink up at her and smile. “I think I know the one you’re referring to.”
“Fine bourbon, designer dresses. And what men you surround yourself with.”
“I credit them for this outfit. Dominic specifically.”
Winnie smirks. “He has an eye for detail, doesn’t he?” She pauses. “But you already knew that.”
An opening I can work with, despite it very much coming across like she's baiting me. "Dominic has a refined skill set, that's for sure. I'd venture to say it's rare even."
“Oh, June.” Winnie relaxes into her seat, facing me. “You don’t have to convince me of it. I’ve known Dominic since he was a boy. He’s always had a knack for coming out on top, no matter what. Resourceful…something that comes in handy in this line of work.
“Tell me, how did you manage to allow him to bring you tonight? In all the years I’ve spent hosting these events, Dominic has never once brought a plus one.”
I consider the question, determining which route I should take. I choose an authentic approach—honesty. “I insisted.”
Winnie snorts. “A woman with a hold on the fearless, ruthless, Dominic Adler. Interesting.”
His last name again. Somehow adding it makes him even sexier in my eyes.
“Is that a difficult feat?” I ask her, curious if I can run with this topic of conversation and use it to my advantage.
She inhales deeply. “Actually, yes. Taming any of the men here tonight is always an interesting task. There are some of the easier targets, obviously, but it takes a special kind of woman to stomach the things that happen in our world. Not just that, but maintaining their interest, that’s a challenge in itself.
With wealth, the kind we experience, any one of us could have whatever we desire, whoever we desire.
To find something worth holding onto, that’s rare for us. ”
"I thought I saw plenty of couples when I arrived here."
She shakes her head. “Most of them are keeping up appearances. Not many will maintain those relationships long term. Once the women realize how dangerous it is, they either leave or end up dead. Very few make it as long as I have, which leads me to wonder, do you plan on sticking around?”
What could be her reasoning for asking? Because she's curious about the role I'll play? If I'll weaken Dominic's ability to lead in the capacity he's currently managing. Or perhaps because she cares for Dom and doesn't want to witness me taking advantage of him?
“I’m not afraid.”
“I didn’t say you were.” Winnie runs her finger along her jaw and then points at me. “That looks new. How did it happen?”
I avert my gaze, recalling the night where I was kidnapped and held captive by a man wielding a knife and threatening to carve me like a pumpkin. The same man I tortured and killed, spilling his blood without a second thought.
“This?” I touch the puckered scar. “This is nothing.”
“And it will be…compared to what you might endure if you stick around.”
“Are you trying to convince me otherwise?”
Winnie reaches for her glass. “No.” She sips the liquid then places it back on the table. “I’m simply warning you of the risks associated with being with men like Dominic. There’s only so much he can do to protect you.”
“I can handle my own.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Winnie’s cheeks turn up. “Considering you’re sleeping with three ruthless men.”
My lips part, unsure of what to say to her blatant calling me out.
Winnie chuckles at having caught me off guard.
“Oh, it’s obvious. The way those three tensed up when I took you away from them.
I’m not sure which one of them has it the worst.” When I don’t speak, she continues.
“I’m intrigued, really. How they all fancy you and seem to be okay with it.
And I mean, to each their own.” She holds up her hands.
“In this day and age, people can do what they want.” She lowers them.
“If you were any other woman who walked in here tonight, I wouldn’t have pulled you aside.
But watching them watch you, and having felt your presence personally in the past…
there’s something about you, June. Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
You bring something different out in them, like you’ve uncovered a layer of those three I didn’t think was possible.
You very well could be their secret weapon, but it’s possible you could also be their kryptonite. ”
What happened to me coming in here and pitching myself as an asset? This woman has dominated the conversation and managed to shock me with her candor. I need to reel it in and show I can be of use, that I won’t be their downfall.
I recall the question I sidestepped earlier. “You had asked me earlier, if I had planned on sticking around.”
“Mmhm.” Winnie waits for me to continue.
The one thing I've been sure of this entire time, that no matter what, when all was said and done, I would help them win their war, and I would leave.
I don't stick around. It's not what I do.
It's not in my DNA to commit myself to a person or situation.
My job and relationship history speaks volumes for my inability to linger longer than necessary.
Whether it's self-sabotage masked as a coping mechanism to keep myself safe, or not ever finding anything worth staying for, I'm not entirely sure.
But that's not what she wants to hear right now.
She's looking for confirmation that I'm not going anywhere.
I'm not certain whether it's a good or bad thing in her eyes.
“I do.” Am I lying to her or to myself? Am I capable of planting roots?
The idea of being without them somehow painfully outweighs any desire I have to run.
“June, the last time I saw you, you were delivering food for some mediocre restaurant. Now, you’re wearing a twenty-thousand-dollar dress and hundreds of thousands of dollars in jewelry. Drastic change if I may say so.”