23. June #4
“It’s not about the money, if that’s what you’re getting at. I didn’t ask for any of this.” I glance down at the elaborate clothes clearly not fooling anyone. I don’t fit in here and it’s blatantly obvious.
“What is it then? Humor me.”
“I…” I don’t want to say anything else. I barely know her.
Then I remember why I’m here. “I care. About each one of them. For many different reasons. I feel safe with them, but not in the way you might think.” I shake my head.
“They understand me.” I glance off into space.
“I’ve never really had much. Never needed much, if I’m being honest.” I let out a breath.
“Never really had a home, a constant. With them, I have that. Not their literal house, but with them, if that makes sense at all.”
Winnie nods. “It does.”
I swallow. “I guess for once in my life, it’s like I’m looking in the mirror when I look at them.
I see dark pieces of me in each of them, but with that darkness, they bring out my light.
And if I’m not mistaken, I do the same for them.
It’s not one-sided. You might think they’re protecting me, that I’m a liability, but who’s looking out for them?
Who has their best interest in mind? They’re constantly fixing problems and cleaning up messes, always on edge and needing to think ten steps ahead.
Other than themselves, there’s no one watching their back.
Not a single person, that would do all of that for them. ”
Winnie tips the drink back that I didn’t realize she had grabbed. She watches me carefully. “And you’re saying you, you’d be that?”
I never meant for any of this to happen.
I thought Dominic would be a random hookup in the bathroom at the shitty dive bar I worked at.
I thought Magnus was a stranger I would spend one glorious night with.
And Coen…I thought he was gone years ago.
If someone would have told me six months ago that Co and I would stumble into each other’s paths, and that I’d get tangled up in Magnus’ and Dom’s, too, I’d never believe them.
And yet here I am, fully prepared to put myself on the line in the most dangerous of ways to ensure they get what they deserve. Because if it’s not me, who will do it for them?
“Yes, without a doubt.” I lift my drink to drain the rest of the contents into my mouth.
A knock sounds on the door, a second later, it cracks open and one of the women’s heads from earlier pops in. “Winnie, we’re ready for you. Dom is up.”
"I'll be right there." She stands and smooths out the wrinkles in her pantsuit from sitting.
“It’s starting already?” My heart picks up its pace.
“Ah, yes, dear. We thought it would be better to meet with the contender’s first thing, that way we can deliberate over dinner and drinks, and make a final decision before dessert.”
Will I get a chance to talk to my men prior to them going in?
To tell them how much I believe in them and how proud I am for all they’ve already accomplished.
That no matter what, I’ll be here, regardless of winning or losing.
It wasn’t their expensive bourbons or fancy suits that caught my attention, it was their souls, calling out to me and telling mine that we don’t have to face the darkness alone.
Winnie downs the rest of her drink, too. “I think you know what needs to be done then.” She lingers near her desk for a long second, like she’s willing me to understand something deeper to her words.
I desperately try to figure out what she means, internally punching myself to decipher the clue. Maybe it’s nothing after all, and I’m just grasping for straws because of how badly I botched this meeting with her.
I failed. I massively fucking failed. I was supposed to convince her and all I did was stumble around my words and grow uncertain of my control of the situation.
“June?” Winnie says while walking toward the door we entered through. “We had spoken briefly in the past, during one of your deliveries. I recall you mentioning you’re a business major?”
Was a business major. Now I’m just a dropout, but she doesn’t need to know that. “A few credits from graduation, yes.”
Winnie points her finger at me. “While they don’t exactly teach our kind of profession, those skills will come in handy.” She winks. “Don’t be afraid to use them.” Winnie slips out the door, leaving me behind in her office alone.
I suck in a breath and settle the raging nerves threatening to destroy me.
“Get it together, June,” I say under my breath while I brace myself on the elaborately carved wood desk.
Opening my eyes, my sights fall on the case perched just inches away from me.
I blink a few times and step closer, glancing back at where Winnie disappeared only seconds prior.
Is this what she was trying to show me? To tell me?
It can't be. This mansion is a violence-free area, why would she alert me to the weapon sitting here in plain sight?
Is this a test? Some kind of game she's playing to see how far I'd be willing to go? If so, how do I know which is the right decision to make? I’ve been informed of the sanctity of the rules numerous times, it would be downright disrespectful and foolish of me to disregard them, wouldn’t it?
When have I ever played by the rules anyway?
Carefully, I press my fingers against the glass and tip the lid to the case. I lower it gently onto the desk, careful not to make a sound, all while keeping my eyes trained on the dagger inside. I reach in and pull it out, somehow already feeling more powerful with it in my grasp.
The hilt is dark blue and could even be mistaken for black.
On the end, a round, golden insignia. But where the handle meets the blade, there’s a small skull, the same color, just a bit shinier.
I run my finger along the length of the weapon, noting how sharp it is.
I swivel the end of it on the tip of my index finger, pricking the smallest amount of blood.
The entire thing is no more than ten inches but could do loads of damage.
With the door still ajar, commotion from outside the room gets louder. Instead of putting the thing back where I found it, I find myself flipping it upward and holding it out of sight against my arm.
I keep my arm tucked close to my side, careful not to draw attention to it or myself, and even more so not to slice my forearm open.
I slip out of the room, immediately catching Coen’s stare from across the room as he chats while walking with a man I haven’t been introduced to yet.
I turn, dipping into another place full of people, scanning the crowd for the person I’m trying to find.
There are only two people at this party that can alter the outcome tonight, and I will do anything in my power to make sure my men are on the winning side.
Dominic bumps shoulders with me. “You okay?”
I nod and force a smile. “Yeah. You?”
“A bit stuffy in here.” His gaze flits around then lands back on me. “I’ve been summoned. I’ll see you after, okay?”
A million thoughts cross my mind. The countless things I want to tell him.
I bottle them up and save them for later, knowing we have plenty of time to say all the unspoken things between us.
I reach out and grip his shoulder with my free hand, saying exactly what he needs to hear right now. “You’ve got this.”
Either way, he’ll have won fair and square, or I’ll make damn sure of it.
Dom leans forward and brushes his lips on my cheek. “Thanks, June.” He leaves me with the lingering touch of him along my skin, a feeling more overpowering than the one of the cold knife I’m still holding onto.
I continue through the rooms, everyone unsuspecting of the small, dark-haired girl wielding a weapon capable of slitting all their throats.
To them, I’m just another pretty face wearing a dress way too expensive and sleeping with the three deadliest men in here.
Little do they know, the reason we go so well together is because I’m their perfect match.
I spot my target up ahead, and he locks his gaze onto mine.
He’s surrounded by a group of his men, various sizes and statures.
He stops his conversation abruptly, raising his hand to signal them to hush, and leaves them in the dust to approach me.
I knew this would be easy. Like taking candy from a baby.
Turning on my heel, I glide out of the room, around a corner and into a quieter area. People are still coming and going, but nothing like the crowds out there. Here, I can talk, and he can listen.
“You couldn’t stay away, could you…” He follows me exactly where I want him to, but when he steps into the space, I draw the knife and hold it to his neck, backing him against the wall.
“Simon.”
“June.” A wicked grin forms on his face.
I press the dagger further, pricking the skin and letting him know how serious I am.