Chapter 19
NINETEEN
CALEB
I keep checking my phone, hoping to hear back from my contacts at the Calamity City Gaming Commission.
The payouts from the fight were massive. With most of the people on the betting apps going for the fan favorite, we ended up making millions of dollars on the fixed fight.
The online commentators are, of course, all sure that the fight was rigged, because it was such an obvious dive. There’s no proof, of course, and Blade Fury has done a few interviews since the match a week ago talking about how good his opponent was. Díaz denies everything as well—it would hurt his reputation too if it looked like he could only win when it’s rigged.
Seven suddenly kicks my shin under the table.
I wince and look up from my phone to glare at him. “Why did you do that?”
“You’re supposed to pay attention to me,” he points out. “Isn’t this a date?”
I swallow the mild guilt and set my phone aside—but not away. This is why my previous boyfriends broke up with me: they couldn’t handle me being a workaholic. Seven can’t break up with me, and he’s got two other men to keep him busy when I’m not around, but it’s true that this was supposed to be an evening out for the two of us. I’d even booked us a spot at one of the nicest restaurants in Calamity City, with a rooftop terrace and a beautiful night view of the city.
“It’s a date,” I agree, reaching for my wine. “What do you want to talk about, Seven?”
Seven shrugs. “I don’t know. Date stuff. What do you talk about on dates? I always try to make Vortex and Havoc tell me about themselves.” He flashes me a smirk. “So I guess that’s what you can do. Tell me more about yourself and what you’re like when you’re not being a controlling workaholic.”
Seven makes them talk about themselves—probably so he doesn’t have to talk about himself.
“You know a lot about me already,” I say, stretching my foot out so I can rub it against his ankle. “I’m part of the Spade family. I have a sister, an infuriating brother-in-law, and a niece who is very into anime. Lori’s very happy you’re texting her, by the way. She says nobody else she knows is cool enough to know about that Martial Law anime.”
“Which is dumb, because it’s really good,” Seven says. “I keep trying to get you to watch it.”
When he’s not too busy getting in my lap and distracting me when I am at home.
“I’ve watched it!” I protest with a smile. “I’ve heard the ‘ Objection!’ and ‘ Hold it!’ when they get ready for their super moves. If court looked like that in real life, I might actually tune in to the court channels.”
Seven snorts. “Yeah, those are pretty boring, except for the ones where people yell at each other on stage.”
I eye him. “You’ve been watching those tabloid talk shows?”
His cheeks flush red. “I… I’ve watched a few. Reality TV is weird, Caleb,” he tells me with a shake of his head.
Sometimes I forget that things I take for granted are so new to him .
“Remember that it isn’t truly reality though,” I say. “It’s curated for the most drama.”
The server comes to bring us our meals, a prix-fixe menu that rivals what my in-house celebrity chef offers. The first plate is a small serving of the appetizer.
Seven stares at it, a strange look on his face. “This is all?”
I smile at him. “Don’t worry. There are going to be seven or eight more plates, and by the time we’re done, we’ll both be full.”
He nods, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at it that has my smile fading.
“Seven?” I prompt.
He jumps. “What? Oh. Sorry.” He tries a bite of the cold scallop dish, and he seems to be mulling it over as he chews. “I don’t think I like this,” he says. “I like hot scallops but having them cold is weird.”
“The rest of it should be warm, at least until we get to the dessert,” I assure him. I finish my portion, and it’s as good as I expected it to be. The sauce is a bright flavor that melds well with the scallop, with just a hint of tang.
The next course, a butternut squash soup in a shooter glass, has him making a contented sound. “This is better,” he says.
The warm soup is the right blend of sweet and savory and creamy.
“If you like this, we should try cooking butternut squash soup at my place,” I suggest.
Seven looks skeptically at me. “Do you even know how to cook?” he asks.
“I’m sure it can’t be that hard, and I have a blender somewhere in the kitchen. I think I do, anyway. I’m sure Alice gave me one a few years back.” I try to remember where I stored that thing.
“If not, maybe I can get you one for your birthday. I mean, I know it’s your money and all, but…” He trails off, his brows furrowing. “Does it still count as a gift if you’re technically paying for it?”
“You’d be waiting a while for that,” I say. My phone buzzes, and I put my hand on it but I don’t look at the screen. “My birthday was two months ago. Shortly before we met, actually.”
Seven stares at me then lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh. So Trent was lying to me. God, he’s such a dick,” he mutters.
“Trent lied?” I frown. “When? About what?”
“About it being your birthday soon.” He grits his teeth.
Before I can ask him more, the server returns with the next course, a mushroom stuffed with two different types of cheese and breadcrumbs.
Seven looks down at it, speaking before I can return to the topic of Trent, “You’re right about the small portions. I don’t know how many more of these little bites I can do, even.”
“Eat as much as you can or want, and don’t worry about the rest,” I answer. I’m still trying to figure out why Trent would have lied about my birthday. The only time the two had even interacted without me present was…
…Was the day Trent had called me, half frantic, saying that he’d caught Seven about to climb over the lounge balcony.
I eye Seven. I want to know more, but I don’t want to remind him about that day either. I’ll ask Trent instead.
“If you want to celebrate a birthday, I think Vortex’s might be next month,” I say. “When’s your birthday? I’ll add it to my calendar.”
Seven’s eyes narrow, but instead of looking at me, he pokes at the mushroom instead.
“It’s April 27th,” a female voice I don’t recognize says from behind us. “Isn’t that right?”
Seven goes deathly pale, and the fork clatters to the table as he loses his grasp on it. He hunches in on himself in his chair like he’s trying to make himself a smaller target.
I turn around to glare at whoever is intruding on our dinner. “This is a private party,” I say through gritted teeth.
The woman is dressed in a suit, and she holds up an ID. It declares her to be a member of the Calamity City Gaming Commission, a Ms. Erica Reese.
“You’re a hard man to get a hold of, Mr. Spade,” Ms. Reese says, smiling. “I wish I didn’t have to intrude on your… date?” She pauses significantly before continuing, “But it really couldn’t wait.”
“Funny,” I say. “I could have sworn I’d reached out to you a few times.”
Ms. Reese shrugs. “A game of phone tag, then.” She pulls a chair to our table and sits down, reaching for Seven’s half-eaten mushroom and popping it in her mouth. “Oh, this is good,” she declares.
I stand up. “Seven, we’re leaving.” I glare at the woman. “If you want to talk to me about gaming-related matters, make an appointment through my assistant—during business hours.”
Ms. Reese sighs loudly. “Are you sure you want to make this so official? I’d have to submit all the paperwork, point out all the discrepancies I found, maybe talk to the press about the irregular betting and all the other oddities surrounding your casino’s finances…”
Seven is trembling, still pressed against his chair like if he sits against it enough, he can vanish. “‘s fine,” he chokes out. “You should… talk. To her, I mean.”
Shit. I’d thought things would blow over, and I’d been more than willing to bribe whoever I’d needed to to make this all go away. But with this woman knowing such a critical detail about Seven—the fact that she knows him at all—I know I’m not dealing with an ordinary commissions officer.
“May I see that ID again?” I ask as I sit down.
She shrugs and hands the card to me. I snap a picture of it with my phone, noting that the text I’d missed earlier was from one of my contacts at the gaming commission.
I pass the ID back to her. “How can I help you then, Ms. Reese?”
“So formal. I’d heard that about you,” Ms. Reese says. She faces me, but her body is closer to Seven’s. He must notice too, because he scoots his chair away from her .
“Everybody online is clamoring for an investigation too,” she says idly. “We’ve got a few people breathing down our necks about this. Well, and we’ve had others who were offering a lot of money to look away, but that’s par for the course.” She sits back and pulls a small notepad out of her purse. “How much do you think it’s worth for all this to go away?”
“You want a bribe?” I ask, confused. “Name your sum.”
“It’s not a sum,” Ms. Reese counters. “My employers?—”
“The Calamity City government?” I press, but I know already that she isn’t talking about them.
She snorts derisively. “We all know the Gaming Commission is run by the casinos. No, my actual employers. They want to retrieve their stolen property. They can make all this go away, and give you a tidy bit of extra to boot.” She smiles at me. “I think you know the price already.”
Ms. Reese reaches out to pet Seven’s hair. He jerks away from her, his expression one of blind terror, but she persists until she’s running her fingers through the soft strands.
He whimpers brokenly, and I can barely contain my fury as I grit out, “Get your hands off of him, Ms. Reese .”
She smiles at me again, but she releases him.
Seven almost falls off of his chair in his haste to get up, and he finally flees his seat to take the one right next to me on the opposite side.
We’re starting to attract attention.
“Go report your findings to the gaming commission,” I tell her in a low voice. “But while you do that, remember who does pay the bills there. You think my grandfather is going to be happy about that investigation? What if I tell Mr. Diamante or Mr. Hart how little regard you have for the established order of things?”
She sneers back at me. “You’re really picking this fight over the kid?”
I wrap my arm around Seven. “Yes. He’s under my protection. And if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, I’ll ensure you end up like the last person who tried to take Seven away from me. Understood?”
Ms. Reese grits her teeth, but she nods. “I see. I’ll mention that to my employers.” She looks at Seven. “Your mother is extremely worried about you. She knows how delicate you are.”
Seven is shaking so hard that his teeth are chattering. He presses his face against my arm, and I tighten my grasp around him.
The server comes by with our next round of food, and the hostess and a security staffer are in tow.
“Mr. Spade…” the hostess says, eyeing Ms. Reese. “Is this woman bothering you?”
“She is,” I say. “Please remove her.”
Ms. Reese stands up and makes a dismissive motion. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving. I think you’re making a mistake though, Mr. Spade.”
“You’re the one making the mistake,” I counter. I stroke Seven’s back in an attempt to soothe him.
She shakes her head and heads out, the security guard on her heels.
The hostess turns to me. “I’m so, so sorry about the disruption, sir. Can we offer you a complimentary drink, or a dessert?—”
I glance down at Seven, who hasn’t stopped shivering. “No. I’m afraid we have to get going too. But if you can keep me in mind for a future reservation?—”
“Of course!” the hostess says. She glances at the two small, still uneaten portions of the first entree. “I’ll make an exception and pack the meal up for you.”
I nod and hand her my credit card to pay. We wait for the staff to bring the rest of the food and my receipt.
Seven stays huddled against me the entire time, not uttering a single word.
“They’re not taking you,” I tell him. “Not now, not ever.”
He looks bleakly at me and nods, but I can tell I’m not getting through to him.
It’s going to be a long night.