Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
We’re standing in front of the Briette Steakhouse, its sign reminding me of the chaos I ran from only a couple of days ago.
My throat tightens as the memory floods back, and it’s as if my body remembers too. The wound on my upper arm throbs faintly, a phantom ache beneath the emerald dress Levi bought me.
I glance down, confirming its long sleeves hide the bandage well.
The dress has elegant lines, and the deep green color complements my complexion.
The dress is undeniably sophisticated, especially since it’s paired with nude pumps and a matching purse.
I’ve never looked more put together, but I’m not sure how I feel about it.
It’s like my Glitter armor, a borrowed skin to help me blend into this crowd.
Inside, the restaurant hums with life, the air thick with the scent of steak. Servers weave through the tables, carrying plates piled high with dishes that probably cost more than my monthly rent. My stomach churns but from nerves, not hunger.
Deep breaths, Nova.
A server greets us at the entrance before leading us toward the back. My breaths come short and shallow until Koen’s hand brushes against my elbow. His thumb moves in a subtle, reassuring stroke that I’m sure no one else notices.
“We’re going to be fine,” he whispers next to my ear.
I nod, just barely.
The private room we’re led into is dimly lit, and the centerpiece is a glittering chandelier that rivals Levi’s outfit in opulence. Ezra and Koen opted for black suits with black shirts, no ties. Casual enough to seem unbothered, formal enough to match the occasion.
And then there’s Veronica, who stands in a burgundy dress near the back of the room, adjusting Nicholas’s lapel.
Nicholas, on the other hand, is sin incarnate in his perfectly tailored suit. His bored expression is firmly in place, but when his eyes meet mine, there’s a flicker of something gone too fast for me to catch.
“Welcome.” Veronica’s gaze shifts to us, her poised smile a masterwork of politeness. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
I’m not.
“Veronica.” Koen steps forward. “Thank you for the invitation.”
As they approach, Nicholas merely nods, his expression unreadable. Veronica, however, glides forward with the ease of a queen greeting her court. She kisses the air beside Levi’s cheeks, then Ezra’s, Koen’s, and finally mine. Her perfume is a cloying blend of roses and power plays.
“Of course. Like I said, I think it’s time we all apologize and put this little misunderstanding behind us.”
Levi tenses beside me, a barely perceptible shift in his posture. Ezra’s hand moves to the small of his back, and I watch as Levi exhales slowly, visibly deflating.
“Then let me start with the apologies.” Ezra begins. “Veronica, you were right. Making a scene in the Heights lobby was uncalled for, and I apologize.”
“Thank you for seeing that,” Veronica replies smoothly, her gaze cutting to Levi with a hint of calculation. “I understand where you were coming from, Ezra. But you know how seriously I take the reputation of the Heights and everything else that belongs to me.”
The Heights is the centerpiece of an empire. Hotels, casinos, clubs—Veronica Harrington owns more of the Strip than most people realize.
“Of course,” Ezra agrees.
Levi’s charm is dialed up to eleven as he takes Veronica’s hand and brushes a kiss across her knuckles.
“And I apologize for seeking you out in the middle of the night without calling ahead,” he says smoothly, but I can see the stiffness in his jaw.
He’s performing, putting on a show, and it’s taking everything in him.
Veronica laughs lightly, waving him off. “Oh, Levi, darling. Why didn’t you? You know I’m always here for you.”
“I’d had a little champagne,” he admits, his grin disarming. “Probably had the best drunk idea ever and couldn’t wait to tell you about it. I got what I deserved for showing up unannounced.”
“I’m still sorry you got hurt.” Her gaze sharpens, but her tone stays warm. “It looks like it’s already better, though?”
“Magic,” Levi quips, his grin widening. “Or rather, makeup.”
Veronica laughs again, then turns to me, her scrutiny a physical weight, pinning me in place as her eyes sweep over me.
“Ms. Evans.”
“Veronica,” I say with a polite smile, though my blood feels like it’s freezing in my veins. “We’re on a first-name basis, right? Please, call me Rosie.”
“Rosie…” Her smile doesn’t falter. “I’m so glad we finally have a chance to talk. I’m sorry I didn’t get to speak with you at the gala or when Nicholas brought you to the Heights.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nicholas stiffen, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“I’m excited too.”
“You must be quite special. I’ve never seen my son act this way over a woman.”
“Mother,” Nicholas warns flatly.
“I’m very appreciative of your son, too,” I reply smoothly, ignoring Nicholas’s glare.
“Good to hear.” Her gaze narrows, making me squirm. “I’m also sorry you were hurt. I assume you were looking for your cousin while running through my hotel and from my security?”
I swallow hard.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry for the commotion I caused.”
“Don’t be, dear.” Veronica reaches out, taking my arm and guiding me toward the table. “Let’s sit. Apologies have been made, everything is forgiven. Let’s enjoy the evening.”
She places me at her left and gestures for Nicholas to sit on my other side. Koen takes the seat on Veronica’s right. The servers flood in then, filling glasses with wine and water. When one offers me red wine, I shake my head. “Just water, please.”
The server moves on, but my hand lingers near my empty glass, fingertips brushing the cool surface. And it hits me.
I said no because I didn’t want to drink.
Not because of Koen. Not because of his compulsion or the quiet command that’s been lodged in my mind since the moment he coerced me. But because I truly didn’t want to.
I glance at the wine in Veronica’s glass, but there’s no pull, no ache, no whisper of craving urging me toward it.
The absence of that need feels foreign. The pull has been quieter over the last few days, fading into the background as the chaos and noise of my life took center stage.
But is it a distraction? Would it feel different if it were whiskey?
Whiskey was always a thief of reason, a searing comfort that dragged me under fast. But this is wine.
Rosalee’s favorite. Drinking it now would tether me back to her laugh, her warmth, the image of her cradling a glass, smiling like she didn’t carry the weight of the world. It would make tonight heavier, harder.
So I choose water.
“Are you a vegetarian, dear?” Veronica asks with a gentle smile that feels more like a test than a casual question.
“No,” I reply. “I’m not.”
“Good.” Her smile widens a fraction before she glances toward the nearest server. “Filet mignon, lobster tail, and truffle mashed potatoes.”
“That sounds delicious, Veronica.” Levi smiles smoothly, his charm dialed up once more. “Thank you.”
“Of course, darling.” She tilts her head, her expression almost warm. “Only the best for our first family reunion in years.”
Koen tenses in my peripheral vision. It’s the smallest twitch of his shoulders, but I feel it like a ripple in the air.
Veronica notices nothing or pretends not to.
“I’d enjoy us getting back together more often like this.
” She picks up her glass of wine but doesn’t drink as she looks at Levi and Koen.
“I know it’s been over a decade since we were truly a family, but now…
now with Oscar gone…” Her hand trembles as she sets the glass back down.
Levi bites his lip hard, his mask slipping enough to show the strain beneath it.
“I miss this.” Veronica seemingly composes herself enough to continue.
“The gatherings we used to have.” Her voice dips, thick with what might be genuine emotion—or an act so practiced that even Koen wouldn’t know the difference.
“I still consider you and Levi somewhat of my stepchildren, Koen. You know how much I loved having you with us.”
Koen’s smile doesn’t falter, but the tension is radiating from him. When I glance at Nicholas, he’s suppressing a scoff, his lips twitching with barely contained derision.
I reach under the table, my fingers finding his knee.
His body jolts slightly at the contact, and his eyes meet mine, the hardness in them softening, if only a little.
I try to reassure him silently, hoping the gesture says everything I can’t.
He exhales quietly as his hand covers mine where it rests on his knee.
I wish I could figure him out. Does he hate me? Is he just hurt? And what the hell am I supposed to do with all of this tension between us? But now’s not the time to dwell on it.
The servers return, carrying plates of food so elegant they look more like art than meals.
Each plate is set with care. Veronica and I are served first, the others following.
When I look down, the filet mignon glistens, perfectly cooked, surrounded by sides that smell divine. It’s the fanciest meal I’ve ever seen.
And it looks fucking delicious.
Ugh. Of course it does.
“Please, eat,” Veronica urges.
Ezra lifts his fork first, cutting into the steak and taking a bite. “This is excellent,” he says, nodding toward her.
“Thank you, Ezra.” Veronica smiles at him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
I look up and over to Koen, who also takes a bite, before complimenting Veronica.
It would have been so easy for her to poison their food.
The thought has my stomach churning, and I push the food around the plate, my appetite evaporating. Nicholas’s hand settles on my knee, startling me out of my thoughts. I glance up, and he looks at me, then the food.
I’m overthinking this, and it shows.
I take a deep breath, force myself to cut a piece of steak, and lift it to my mouth.
Damn. It’s good.
“It’s delicious,” I compliment.
“I’m so glad to hear that, Rosie.” Veronica’s smile widens, satisfaction dripping from her every feature. “I told the chef to make this special for us. It’s not every day we have a chance to celebrate.”
Celebrate. Right. That’s one word for whatever this is.
I glance around the table, my gaze lingering on Koen, who’s quietly eating with his usual composure, except right now, it feels forced. Levi is chatting quietly with Ezra, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. Nicholas sits silently beside me, his hand still resting lightly on my knee.
We’re all playing a part tonight, carefully dancing on the edge of a knife. And Veronica is watching us all with the faintest hint of amusement.
Her attention lands on Koen, “Have you decided if and when you want to perform shows again?”
“Yes. Actually, we’re planning one in a little over a week.”
What?
My breath hitches, and I try to keep my face neutral as my mind races. How has no one told me about this? My gaze flicks to Nicholas, and sure enough, he’s already looking at me. His expression is steady and unreadable, but I know what he’s thinking.
He thinks he can get what we need in not even two weeks. And apparently, so does Koen. When I glance at Levi, he’s nodding subtly, clearly in agreement. My stomach churns.
A little over a week.
A little over a week until we take her down—or go down ourselves.
“Oh, that’s exciting.” Veronica reaches for her glass of wine and takes a sip. “I was worried you might not get back to it after everything. I mean, it’s not like you need to do shows. You’re already icons. But you two are half the magic of the Strip.”
“Such a nice thing to say.” Levi cuts in. “Thank you, Veronica. No, we miss it, and we want to get back. But it felt appropriate to have a longer pause after Oscar.”
“I understand completely.” Veronica presses a hand to her chest, her expression softening. “I had to take some time for myself too. I know we weren’t on the best terms toward the end, but he was still the love of my life. A complicated love, but love nonetheless.”
Nicholas’s hand tightens on my thigh briefly before he pulls away to pick up his fork.
“He left a big hole in many lives,” Ezra agrees.
“Indeed.” Veronica sighs dramatically, reaching for her fork again. “And that’s something I wanted to talk to you about. Do you remember the joint venture I proposed to Oscar? The hotel?”
Koen and Levi speak in unison, their voices flat. “We remember.”
Ezra nods, his tone more conversational. “Oscar was delighted by the idea.”
“I know. So was I. It was such a strong concept, a magic-themed hotel with dinner shows and so much more. With my expertise in the hotel industry and his charm, talent, and name, it would’ve been a landmark on the Strip…
” She pauses, looking at Koen and Levi with what could almost be mistaken for earnestness.
“I’d love to bring it to life in his legacy with your help.
You’re just as talented as he was, and people adore you.
This could be something incredible. Not only would it be a gold mine, but it would carry his legacy forward.
A landmark in his name, his honor, and his memory. ”
I have to suppress a scoff.
It’s not like there’s not already a freaking Lane Building across the street.
“It sounds amazing, and we’d love to give Oscar such a legacy.” Koen sets down his fork, reaching for his own water. “But we’re not businessmen.”
“Oh, I know, darling,” Veronica waves a dismissive hand. “But that’s not a problem. That’s where Nicholas and I come in. You focus on the fun part… the shows, the concept, the look and feel. Nicholas and I will handle the logistics.”
Koen’s gaze shifts to Nicholas. “You’d help us with this?”
Nicholas’s expression remains impassive. “Mother thinks it’s a good investment, and I don’t question her.”
“He’s excited to help.” Veronica’s smile tightens. “Right, Nicholas?”
Nicholas inclines his head. “Of course, Mother.”
No wonder he hates her.
“And I know Rosie will love to help, too, won’t you, dear?” Veronica’s attention snaps back to me, her smile softening enough to feel condescending. “You can pick the prettiest bouquets for the entry hall.”
I almost laugh at its sheer absurdity. Not only because it’s a blatant throwaway task but also because Nicholas would probably be better suited to it than I would.
Bitch.
But I smile instead. “I’d love to.”
“Wonderful,” Veronica purrs, her satisfaction evident. “So, is this a yes?”
Koen’s gaze sweeps the table, lingering on Levi, then Ezra, before finally landing on me. There’s a glint in his eyes like he knows exactly how this is going, and for now, it seems to be playing into his hand.
The question is whether that’s a good thing or a disaster waiting to happen.
“Sure.” He nods. “Let’s rewrite the Strip.”
“Oh…” Veronica’s smile sharpens, “… we will.”