11. Margot
eleven
Margot
Dante’s promise of company doesn't take long to come true. When the heavy door clicks open, I perk up on the couch, a sudden spike of anticipation humming through my veins—only to feel a quiet wave of disappointment when a flash of sunglasses meets my eyes instead of familiar ones.
Casper. Reading the embroidered patch on his leather cut, I quickly piece together who he is. The Vice President of Steelwood, and presumably Dante's second-in-command.
He kicks the door open wider with a bright grin, a heavy box balanced under one arm and several bags dangling from his fingers in his other hand. Right on his heels, a woman slips inside, wearing an adorable, vibrant sundress covered in lemons, her hands completely free.
"Afternoon," Casper calls out, setting the box down on the kitchen island with a satisfied thud.
He gestures proudly to the woman beside him.
"We haven't properly been introduced. I'm Casper, Dante's best friend and superior officer in terms of charm.
And this is my beautiful girlfriend, Kylee. Please take good care of her."
Kylee offers a warm, sunny smile that instantly puts me at ease. "Don't listen to him. But it's so wonderful to meet you, Margot. Casper’s told me so much about you."
Unsure of how much he could possibly know about me, it takes effort to keep my smile light.
While they settle in, I approach the island, my fingers trembling slightly as I peer into the bags from pure eagerness. My breath catches as I glance at the box next.
The sewing machine sitting there is a beautiful, high-end model—honestly better than the one I left behind. I dig further, finding thread, shears, fabric chalk, and even a brand-new measuring tape. Everything I could possibly need is right here.
Uncurling the tape measure, my throat tightens as my smile softens. "You really got everything. Thank you so much."
Casper rocks back on his heels, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm just the muscle and the delivery boy. Dante put in the research, texted me a list, and gave me money.”
Dante did? A sudden wave of intense heat floods my cheeks. We’d already stayed up late—how much sleep did he sacrifice just to search for sewing supplies for me?
Casper catches the blush coloring my face and smirks, highly enjoying the shift, though he thankfully has the grace not to tease me about it.
"So," Kylee chimes in, clapping her hands together as she looks around the spacious penthouse. "Where do we start? What do you need me to do?"
Excitement sparks through me, completely overriding my nerves. It feels incredible to indulge in my passion again. I grab a notepad to jot down her proportions, asking her about her favorite necklines and dress styles as I work.
It helps that she has plenty of preferences. From what I get from the peanut gallery, Kylee is a dress enthusiast.
Casper makes himself entirely at home on the couch, stretching his long legs out and watching us with a soft, content grin. Kylee flushes pink when I wrap the measuring tape around her waist, giggling a little as the tape brushes her sides.
"I've never actually had anything custom-made before," she admits, swatting playfully at Casper when he winks at her. "He has a massive weak spot for what I wear, so if he starts nagging you to hurry up, feel free to sew his mouth shut."
Casper laughs, entirely unbothered. "Hey, she's already taken over my entire closet with those dresses. Take all the time you need, Margot. I'm just excited to see what you create. Don't worry about being modest with it, either. A little skin exposure is preferred, but not too much."
"He gets jealous very easily," she murmurs under her breath, grinning as if it's a quirk rather than a flaw.
They linger for a while longer, chatting easily while I finish scribbling down my thoughts on the pad. It's obvious Dante ordered them to keep me company, and for a couple of hours, I almost forget about the feeling of loneliness.
But eventually, the visit comes to an end.
"We're just down the hall," Kylee says warmly, giving my hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze as they head toward the door. "You should come visit whenever you want. Seriously, just pop on over."
Behind her, Casper stifles a visible wince. Even behind his dark sunglasses, the sudden tightness in his jaw gives him away. He knows exactly what my situation is, and Kylee clearly doesn't. Guess he didn’t tell her everything.
Swallowing down the bitter lump in my throat, I force a pleasant nod and a smile. "Thank you. One day, I definitely will."
It's not like I'll be locked inside this place for the rest of my life.
I wave my final goodbyes, watching them step out into the corridor. But as the door begins to heavy-swing shut, a sudden realization hits me.
Every single time Dante leaves this place, he stops at the door. His fingers tap against the interior keypad, typing in a code to lock me inside.
Casper didn't do that. He didn't touch the electronic pad once.
My heart thumps against my ribs. I stand frozen in the center of the room, staring long and hard at the door, completely paralyzed by the realization.
The door is unlocked.
How much time passes before I realize he's not coming back to fix his mistake?
Enough to try to convince myself not to do anything stupid.
No matter what I can tell myself, it's not enough to stop me from moving. Call it a curiosity to know if this is some sort of test, but one look through the peephole confirms that Casper's long gone.
Reaching for the door, I take a deep breath before turning the handle. When it opens, my lungs burn, and I inhale deep enough to make my head dizzy.
Rather than thinking about how bad of an idea this is, I'm hunting down my sneakers. Once they're on, I leave the unit. Closing the door behind me, I take a look around before my eyes snag on the elevator doors.
A small voice in the back of my mind urges me not to test any boundaries, but it's overwhelmed by the ping of the elevator opening after I hit the button to go down.
I'm not going to run away. Running away would be silly. But it's been days now since I've been trapped in that unit, and not even yesterday's ride was enough to relieve the stress in my chest.
Crawling down the four floors, I chew my lip as I look at the camera tucked in the corner. If anyone is watching the feeds and sees me, Dante will be the first to know.
My stomach twists at the realization, and before I can let it get to me, the doors are sliding open.
Freedom is all but thirty feet away.
I don't rush toward the front doors. I can't. Every step I take feels like the shoes I'm wearing have weights in them. Or maybe it's the dread of betraying Dante's trust that's making it hard to keep moving forward.
Eventually, I make it to those double doors separating me from the rest of the world.
I freeze at the entrance of the building, staring out past the glass at all of the life taking place.
I went years with only having grass and trees to stare at, but I forgot how active the town can get. People are passing by in groups, some with bags, some empty-handed. When I spot a woman walking a dog, it takes all my willpower not to press my forehead against the glass to get a closer look.
For a short moment, I feel it. The temptation to push open the doors and step outside. To experience everything I've been denied and bask in the warmth of the sun.
Funnily enough, I'm already imagining what it would be like to roam the streets. What kind of smells would fill my lungs? Madalyn would bring me food from the random trucks set up, and I always loved trying new things. What kind of shops would cross my path? What sorts of people would I meet?
While the temptation is right there, coaxing me forward, I don't move forward.
If I leave, I risk ruining all of Dante's hard work. I'll lose the one chance to put my father in his place. I'll lose the one chance at justice for everyone he hurt, including myself.
I can't leave, but looking isn't a crime, is it?
"Uh..." Behind me, a voice rings out. "Can we get past?"
Turning, my breath catches. Another biker stands only a few feet away, but the rough leather of his cut contrasts sharply with the delicate way his fingers are laced through a woman's hand.
The moment his eyes lock onto mine, he freezes, immediately recognizing my face. Panic flares across his features, so fast it makes him lose the dangerous edge these bikers bring with them. He drops her hand instantly, stepping a few inches away as if trying to erase the evidence of his affection.
Beside him, the woman’s shoulders sag, a flash of pure hurt crossing her face before she masks it with a deep, bitter frown.
Crow. He was the one who drove us, if I remember right.
Pulling away from the door, I try to keep my breathing even. "I wasn't going to leave."
Which sounds pretty dumb, since he's caught me in a pretty terrible spot.
His eyes flick toward the door, at the woman, and then back at me. "You should probably go back up. The mayor has guys posted around the block. If they see you, it's game over."
The information immediately makes me recoil away from the glass. I've got more things to worry about than possibly being seen.
"Don't tell Dante." The words leave me in a whisper, because I know if he found out, he wouldn't be happy with me. I don't know if he'd tighten the chains, or destroy this... whatever it is between us
He hesitates before nodding. "Head back up, and we can just agree on not seeing each other."
My gaze turns back to the woman once more, and from the way she's frowning at him, I can't help but wonder who she is to be held a secret.
Knowing I have no choice but to agree, I nod my head and scamper back toward the elevator. But as the doors begin to slide shut, I look back one last time.
Crow has already closed the distance between them again. His head is bent low, his forehead resting against hers in a silent, desperate apology as he takes her hand back into his. It plucks at a longing in my chest.
Riding all the way to the top, my heart is pounding in my chest.
Hoping there's no chance it'll stop on any of the floors, I make it to the top without running into any issues.
Once the doors pop back open, I'm scampering towards Dante's unit. Wanting nothing more than to escape back inside, lock the world away, and busy myself with any design I can come up with, I reach out and grab the handle.
I rattle it. My body freezes when I try to push the door open.
It doesn't budge.
It can't. All because it's locked.