Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sylus
God, I hate that I have to spend time with this prick. But I promised Sparkle I’d fix this.
I’m standing in front of Harrington Heights, the city’s noise humming behind me, but my focus is on my phone as I type a message to the number I swiped from Koen’s phone earlier.
Bring the Mercedes and meet me outside the Heights. I’m standing by the entry of the garage. Sylus.
Deep breath, Sy. It’s for her.
Anything for her.
The thought of her has me zoning out, my mind flashing back to this morning. Her sleepy form tangled in the sheets, her body fitting perfectly against mine, even in sleep. The way her tight little pussy clenched around me, as soft, breathy gasps escaped her lips, while my cock was buried balls deep.
How my mouth found her skin, brushing over her collarbone, gliding up to her throat.
How I felt the flutter of her pulse against my lips, and I let my tongue trace it, tasting her, savoring her.
How I came so hard, I was sure I would wake her.
But I didn’t.
And how when I pulled out, my cum dripped from her pink pussy, a sight I could look at over and over again.
Good thing I took some pictures. I pull up the photo app on my phone and scroll through them.
Goddammit.
Her flushed cheeks, messy hair, the faint bruises from my grip on her hips. The drip of cum gliding down her pussy. Fuck, she’s stunning.
I open our text thread and send them to her, one after another.
Good morning, Sparkle baby. I hope you wake up sore and still dripping from me. I had to head out early, didn’t want to wake you, but I’ll be back soon. Don’t go disappearing, okay? I need you later. Love you.
The words feel natural, even if I’m probably overusing the love yous with her. But it’s part of the plan.
Desensitizing her to the words .
I don’t expect her to say it back, not yet. I’ll wait until she’s ready when she means it. But I’ve noticed something. The more I say it, the less she tenses or runs. It’s progress. And that’s good for all of us.
Confrontational therapy, or whatever Alaric calls what his therapist told him to do, seems to work. I’ve never seen him like this, not even before Oscar died. He’s calmer now, almost, dare I say, happy. And it’s all because of her.
And yet, she’s still here, still mine. None of my fears came true. She didn’t abandon me or Koen for Alaric. She wants us all. Hell, she even wants the asshole I’m waiting for, and if she wants him, she’ll have him.
Whatever she needs, she gets.
Speak of the devil.
The Mercedes pulls out of the garage and up in front of me. Nicholas kills the engine and steps out, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement. He looks as annoyingly put together as ever—neat suit, hair immaculate—like he’s stepped out of some glossy ad for rich assholes.
“Koen must need his car back badly if he sent you to grab it for him,” Nicholas remarks as he tosses the car keys over the roof of the car. “And you actually agreed to do it?”
Instinctively, I catch them, one-handed, glaring at him as I shove my phone into my pocket. “Koen didn’t send me, Harrington .”
“Oh?” Nicholas’s brow lifts. “Then what brings you to grace me with your presence, Walker ?”
“We’re going van shopping.” I toss the keys back. They arc perfectly, landing right in his chest. He catches them with an annoyed huff. “Get in the car, dickhead.”
He hesitates for a beat, then slides back into the driver’s seat with a muttered, “Unbelievable.” I follow, slamming the passenger door with enough force to punctuate my irritation.
The tension between us is palpable as I type the address I memorized into the navigation system.
Nicholas starts the engine. “You want to tell me what the fuck is happening, or are we going to bask in awkward silence all the way there?”
“Drive,” I command, leaning back and crossing my arms, but to my surprise, he does as he’s told.
Good boy.
I pull out my phone, unlock it with a swipe, and scroll through my playlist because he’s right—this silence is awkward as shit. Since this is Koen’s car, my phone automatically connects to the sound system. I tap the screen, and “Shape of My Heart” by the Backstreet Boys fills the cabin.
Nicholas’s head snaps toward me, his brows shooting up in disgust and utter disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
“What?” I feign innocence as I tap my fingers against the armrest to the beat.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s called a vibe, Harrington. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Why are you doing this? Am I here to get tortured?”
I shrug. “It fits the occasion.”
“How in God’s name does this fit the occasion?”
“It’s buying-a-van music.”
“Of course it is,” he mutters, already done with my shit. “And what does buying a van have to do with me?”
“One, you said you’re in, so your lazy ass can help with preparations for the show. And two, we need to talk.”
“Talk about what?”
“Talk about the perfection that is Sparkle. And about how delusional she is for apparently wanting you.”
His grip on the steering wheel tightens, and he looks like he wants to kick me out.
Rich boy can fucking try.
“Don’t push me, Walker .”
“Push you?” I laugh, sharp and bitter. “What, you think I’m the problem here? You’re sitting there acting like the victim as if she played you like we all did, but the truth is… you played yourself.”
“Right.” He scoffs. “I’m the idiot for trusting her. For trusting any of you.”
“You said it, not me,” I fire back, managing to keep my tone soft enough to stop him from kicking me out of the car altogether. I need him to hear me, not shoot me down. “Look, man, it’s not only her fault. It’s yours too. Hell, it’s all of ours. We brought her into this. We pushed her toward you. You think she woke up one day and decided, let’s go fuck with the Harringtons for fun ? Grow up.”
“She tricked me to fall in love with her.”
“You jumped into that headfirst like a lovesick puppy because you wanted someone to love you that badly. You think shit would have worked if you kept your cool like a normal person would? Falling this fast was your doing, not hers. Nobody can make you fall for them. You were fucking na?ve.”
I know this is rich coming from me, but I absolutely can think like a sane person when it’s not about my feelings for her.
His frown deepens, and I know I’m getting through, even if he hates hearing it.
“But I can’t really blame you, can I? She’s everything,” I continue. “She’s been through shit you can’t even imagine, and she still keeps going. She needs all of us. The first love she lost because she deserves to have him back. Me, because I make her laugh when she doesn’t want to. Koen, because he makes her feel safe. And yeah, apparently, she needs you too. For fuck if I know what.”
Nicholas’s gaze flickers toward me. “Why doesn’t it bother you that she’s into four guys?”
“Because I’m her main, and you guys are only her side chicks.” Nicholas’s expression deadpans, and I sigh dramatically. “Fine. She wants all of us equally, or some self-love harmony crap like that. But let’s be real. I make her the wettest.”
Nicholas lets out a sharp scoff, but there’s a flicker of something beneath it. Annoyance or amusement, maybe both.
“And you know what? She gives me everything I need without even trying. So why wouldn’t I want the same for her? Why would I try to keep her from having what makes her happy? Even if that includes you .” His sharp exhale cuts through the air. He sounds frustrated and unsure, but I keep going anyway. “Are you in love with her? Or did you simply want to be in love so badly you told yourself you were?”
“I don’t know,” he admits after a beat. But I can hear that he absolutely does know. He’s a goner for her, just like the rest of us.
“It’s not that hard to figure out.” I tilt my head to look at him. “Would you put her well-being before your ego?”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means the real issue here is your pride,” I explain, not backing down. “You don’t like that she was part of our plan. You don’t like that she caught real feelings for you, the same way you did for her. And you definitely don’t like the idea of sharing her. But if you really care about her, none of that matters. So ask yourself, can you put her needs before your pride?”
“Sharing her…” He blinks, his lips twitching like he’s trying to figure out whether to laugh or tell me to fuck off. “You mean this whole… whatever the hell this is?”
“Exactly,” I say, smirking. “A co-boyfriend situation. Boyfriend Collective. The Sparkle Syndicate, if you will.”
Nicholas stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, his lips pressing into a thin line until the corner twitches. “The Sparkle Syndicate?”
“Call it what you want, man. Boyfriend Coalition? Whatever makes it easier for your fragile ego to swallow.” I shrug, grinning. “Membership perks include Sparkle’s smile and the occasional existential crisis.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, but you’re still listening.”
He doesn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the road. It feels like he might end the conversation right there, but then he speaks again, “You make it sound so fucking easy.”
“It’s not,” I admit. “But it’s simple. You’re hurt. I get it. But you’re the one holding onto it. If you want her, fight for her. If you want this family, fight for it. But if you can’t, fine. Walk away. Just don’t blame us when you realize you’re the one who lost everything.”
He’s silent for a long moment, his grip on the wheel easing slightly. “And what if I can’t?”
“Then that’s on you, man,” I say, sitting back in my seat. “But if you’re willing to put her before your pride, then you’ll figure it out.”
He exhales slowly, his eyes scanning the road ahead, but the tension in his shoulders starts to loosen. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“Tell me something new.”
He doesn’t respond, but it’s fine. He has a lot to think about now.
Only the Backstreet Boys fill the silence, and because I’m me, I start singing along, loud and unapologetically. At first, Nicholas doesn’t react, but as I hit the chorus with all the passion of a seasoned boy-band fan, I swear I hear something. It’s faint, so faint I almost miss it, a low hum, barely there but definitely in tune.
I pause mid-line, side-eyeing him. “Harrington… are you humming ?”
His jaw tightens, and he keeps his eyes on the road. “No.”
“You are. I can hear it.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“You so were.” I grin like I’ve hit the jackpot.
He rolls his eyes, but I catch that almost smile again. “Just sing your damn song, Walker .”
I laugh, picking up where I left off, belting out the next line with exaggerated drama. And as the chorus hits again, I hear it once more, that almost imperceptible hum. It’s faint, but it’s there. And yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose now.
By the time the song fades out, I’m grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
Maybe there is something to like about this guy after all.
And thank fuck, because the rest of our lives would be miserable if there wasn’t.
Nicholas pulls the car to a stop in front of a rundown house in a neighborhood that screams questionable choices . I can feel him bristling even without looking at him. His fancy shoes and sleek suit don’t exactly blend in.
Oh well. He’ll survive.
“Where even are we?” he asks sharply, his eyes scanning the street like it might attack him.
“Told you.” I roll my eyes. “We’re getting a van.”
“Yeah, but I thought we’d go to a dealer or some shit.”
That makes me laugh. “A dealer? No dealer has the equipment we need.”
He jerks his chin toward the van already parked out front. It’s a beat-up white box that looks like it’s been through at least one apocalypse.
“Then what the hell is that?”
“A van. From a private seller,” I explain as if I’m talking to a five-year-old. “It’s got most of what I need. I’ll add the rest myself before the show.”
“And where, exactly, did you find this private seller ?” His voice is dripping with suspicion.
“Dark web.”
“Of fucking course.” He sighs, dragging a hand down his face.
We step out of the car, and his shoes crunch against the gravel. Already, he seems to be regretting every life choice that brought him here. Good. Builds character.
The front door opens, and out steps the guy. Short, beer belly, and wearing a shirt with some faded sports logo on it. He takes one look at us, his eyes widening. “Whoa. You guys tall as fuck, huh?”
“Hello—” Nicholas starts, but I cut him off. He’s way too polite for an exchange like this.
“Can we take a look inside?”
The guy shrugs and tosses the keys to me. “Sure thing. Knock yourselves out.”
I slide open the van door and hop in, ducking to avoid hitting my head. The inside smells of stale coffee and cheap cologne, but the equipment? Oh, it’s beautiful. Monitors, signal boosters, control pads.
This thing is a dream for flying drones and controlling illusions during the show. I’ll need to tweak a few systems and add some upgrades, but the foundation is solid. Alaric had his doubts about pulling off all the magic tricks on the street, but this van? This van makes it doable. Hell, it makes it genius.
I trail a hand over one of the control pads, grinning. And when the show’s done, and we need to make our escape? It’s the perfect getaway ride. No one’s going to suspect a plain white van. Not a billionaire-style getaway car, sure, but that’s exactly the point. No one will be looking for us in something this… pedestrian.
Of course, it does have the distinct free candy vibes that make it look like it belongs in a suburban neighborhood’s worst nightmares, but after the chaos we’re about to unleash, I’m banking on people overlooking it. Hopefully.
Nicholas steps in behind me, glancing around like he’s trying to decide if he’s impressed or simply annoyed.
I size him up, giving him an exaggerated once-over. “What are you, five-foot-one?”
He raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m six-foot-three.”
“Whatever you say, Short King .” I grin, making him huff a reluctant laugh. “This’ll work. It’s got everything I need.”
“That’s it?” he asks, crossing his arms.
“That’s it.”
“Why did I have to come?”
“To drive me here, obviously.”
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, instantly grinning when I see a message from Sparkle. “Dreamgirl’s awake,” I announce, more to myself than Nicholas, but he’s watching me now, curiosity sparking in his otherwise grumpy expression.
I click on the video, and the van fills with the unmistakable sound of her breathless moans. The screen lights up with a shot of her fingers moving against her clit, her head tipping back as she murmurs my name like a prayer.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, leaning in closer to the screen like it might pull me through.
Nicholas, wide-eyed, mutters an equally stunned, “Fuck.”
Snapping out of it, I quickly shut off the screen, cutting the sound mid-moan. The abrupt silence feels almost obscene, but not half as much as Nicholas’s slack-jawed expression.
“What the fuck, man?” I glare at him, holding my phone protectively against my chest. “Those are Sparkle perks. Subscription only.”
He blinks, visibly shaking himself out of whatever trance she just pulled him into. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s fine.” I wave him off, smirking. “That was a teaser. You’re on the free trial, but you should consider upgrading to a plan soon. Comes with exclusive content and… perks. ” I wiggle my eyebrows at him.
“You’re so full of shit,” he shoots back, his ears faintly pink as he adjusts his cuffs unnecessarily.
“Am I?” I lean casually against the van’s side, flipping the phone in my hand. “Because that sounded an awful lot like someone who got a sneak peek of something he’s not ready to admit he wants.”
“I don’t want—” He stops himself, clearly thinking better of it, then points at me with a sharp glare. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re jealous.” I grin wider, enjoying the hell out of this. “It’s okay, Harrington . It’s cute. Just remember, if you want the premium plan, you’ll have to earn it.”
“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters, turning away, but not before I catch the faintest flicker of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Fair.” I step out of the van. “But I’ve got the girl, and I’m taller.” Nicholas follows, his scowl deepening, but I don’t give him a chance to fire back. Turning to the seller, I toss him a quick nod. “We’ll take it.”
“Great!” The guy’s grin stretches wide. “Okay, like we said, sixteen grand in cash, and it’s all yours.”
I glance at Nicholas. “Pay the man, Harrington .”
“Why the hell would I—”
“Don’t act like you don’t have that much cash on you right now.”
He scoffs, then pulls his wallet from his jacket and counts out the bills with an air of disdain. “Fine.” He slaps the cash into the guy’s hand.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” the seller says with a sly grin.
I walk around the van to the driver’s side, turning back to point at Nicholas. “Fix this with her, dickhead.”
He narrows his eyes but doesn’t respond, his visible irritation as satisfying as the hum of the van’s engine beneath my hand. I give him one last smirk before pulling away, leaving him standing there with his expensive shoes, his frown, and a van’s worth of unresolved feelings.
Time to get back to my Sparkle.
Maybe she needs a hand.