22. Archer
Chapter 22
Archer
M y head aches but it's nothing compared to the regret I have of saying things I should have kept to myself. London and I shared trauma, I'm not convinced either of us has shared with others, and I don't know whether it's a good or bad thing.
I feel closer to her, but I hate showing weakness. I hate how vulnerable it makes me.
But then there are moments from last night I don’t hate—like slow dancing in the living room and laughing at each other while we were eating. I didn’t mind opening up to her, it’s just everything else that comes along with it.
Feelings… gross.
London steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around both her body and her hair. It’s sort of a gut punch seeing she no longer needs, or even wants, me to wash her hair. I had gotten used to it, looked forward to it even, and I regret not enjoying it a bit more when it was happening.
Life's strange like that—you don't realize in the moment that it's the last time and once it hits, there's nothing you can do to turn back the clock.
She doesn't look in my direction as she makes her way into the bedroom and shuts the door behind her, a coldness to her today that wasn't there yesterday.
Did I share too much? Did I overstep? Did a wedge get put between us that can't be removed?
I shake my head and remind myself that it's better this way. She's doing me a favor by icing me out. Because that's what we both should be doing. It's clear that we aren't compatible—it must stay that way.
Still, that doesn't mean we don't have insanely palpable chemistry that is off the fucking charts. Just the memory of how sweet she tastes is enough to make my cock ache for her.
I continue my task, typing away at my computer, slyly removing funds from one account and moving them to another. I might be a bad man, but there are worse men out there, and I fucking love stealing from them and donating to charities they'd never be caught supporting.
I do this seven more times, stealing over three million dollars to spread across various charities, my actions completely untraceable. I'm double-checking my family's investments when London comes out of the bedroom, her towel-dried hair hanging over her shoulders.
"Do you want help with that?" I ask her.
"I'm good," she says and goes into the bathroom.
I chew at my lip and try to force away the rampant thoughts of not fully understanding where her head is at. Maybe she's hungover, too. Maybe she regained some freedom from getting the casts off and just wanted to wash her hair herself. I can't imagine asking for help in the first place was easy for her, so not needing it now, it makes sense for her to go back to her old ways. Still, I wish she knew I wasn't bothered by helping her. I enjoyed it.
It's nice to feel needed.
After a quick recap of the whereabouts of Joe Vito, I mark him off my to-do list for the day. The guy is boring, predictable, and honestly, a total fucking waste of oxygen. He spends most of his time at the same few clubs, spending entirely too much on bottle service to buy friendships, and has his hand in countless illegal activities that I would never approve of. Don't get me wrong, I've done my fair share of shady shit, but I draw the line at women and children. I don't respect men because they don't deserve it, but women are doing their best to survive so there's no way I'm adding to the shit they have to worry about.
Call me a feminist, or maybe just a decent fucking human being.
The sound of the muffled blow-dryer comes through the bathroom door, and I picture myself in there, drying and brushing through London's red hair. I got pretty okay with it toward the end, picking up a few new braiding techniques and learning how to use a round brush to style her hair while drying it. I had no idea so much went into doing hair until I wanted to make sure she was happy with hers.
My phone rings, and a picture of Ivy lights up the screen.
Reluctantly, I answer. "Hey, sis," I say into the receiver.
"Arch. How are you? What's going on?"
"Not much," I tell her while keeping my eyes on the bathroom door. It's not like she can leave without me seeing it happen; I don't know why I'm so fucking drawn to where she is. I wouldn't put it past London to accidentally drop the blow-dryer in the sink with the water running, though. She's accident-prone like that, and a bit ditzy. "What's up with you?"
"Busy with work, as always. You know, August keeping me busy."
"How is he?"
Ivy sighs. "He told me you called the other day."
"Oh great. What did he say?"
"Something about you're paranoid the Manor brothers had something to do with a robbery in your neighborhood."
"I don't think I'm being paranoid," I tell her.
"That's what a paranoid person would say."
"Explain it to me, Vee. He came in with a dirty gun, said he'd get killed if he told me who sent him. Who else could it have been?"
"You know they're not the only family that doesn't like us, right? We have enemies coming from every direction."
"Which is all the more concerning. Who's to say they're not aligning to take us out? We're going to have to make a power move if we want to maintain control."
"And what do you suggest?"
"You're the PR specialist, isn't this your thing?"
Ivy laughs. "A suggestion or nudge in the right direction wouldn't be the worst."
"I think we need to reach out to Johnny Jones. He and his wife have a huge sector. If we could align with them, we'd have more territory. A stronger footing." I pause and then add, "They have connections out West, too. And if I'm not mistaken, I might know a guy."
"Are you listening to yourself? You might know a guy? Really?
I shrug even though she can't see me. "What's the worst that could happen, they decline? We need to do something, or they're going to overpower and push us out."
"I'll have to discuss details with August. He has the final say in these things."
"I think you're underestimating how much control over him you have. August would do anything you said."
"Anything other than listen to me."
"It's worth a shot. I'd hate to see us lose everything we've all sacrificed so much to build."
"It's not going anywhere."
I lean back in my chair, my sights still on the bathroom door.
"What's going on with you and that girl? Is she still there? Will you be at the family dinner?"
"Nothing is going on between us. Yes, she's still here, for another few weeks. You'll have to remind me about dinner."
"Sunday at noon. Promise me you won't fight with Seven."
"I can't make that promise," I tell her, especially with London on the line. He overstepped by getting aggressive with her, and that's something I refuse to allow to happen again. "How about this? I promise not to kill him. Everything else is on the table."
Even through the phone, I can tell that Ivy rolls her eyes and switches ears. "You're the worst, Arch…but who am I kidding, I want to punch Seven in the face from time to time, too."
"I don't know how you don't. I would have consumed him in the womb if I were you."
Ivy grins so much I can hear it in her voice. "You have no idea how many times I've considered it. That man, well, that fucking child, he drives me insane. I'm sick of cleaning up his messes. It's getting out of hand, and I'm at the point I don't know how to help him. He needs professional help but he refuses to talk to anyone. He just wants to push me away, and all I'm trying to do is be there for him."
"Maybe he needs you to be there for him in a different way." But once the words are out of my mouth, I come to terms with the fact that Seven really is unwell in the head. He lacks remorse and empathy and any consideration for his own, or anyone else’s, safety. If he weren't family, I'd have nothing to do with him. He's too much of a loose cannon.
"I don't know what else to do, Arch. I've tried everything. I'm at a loss."
I sense the shift in her tone, the seriousness of everything she's said and hasn't said. I just wish there was something I could do to help her, to help him, but at this point, I think Seven might be a lost cause. The trauma he's experienced molded him into who he is, there's no denying that, but I think things go deeper than trauma and more into who he is as a person fundamentally.
"Anyway," she says before letting me get a word in. "What's going on with you? Tell me more about this girl. How long did you say she’s crashing at your place?"
"She has a name, you know."
Ivy sighs. "That doesn't answer my question."
My mind floats back to last night, the game London and I had played. If only I was able to take a shot instead of having this conversation with my sister. "I think she's getting an apartment in a few weeks. So not much longer."
I loathe the tightening that forms in my chest. How can I look after her when she's not living inside my apartment? Next door isn't that far, but it's farther than I'd prefer.
"I have a bad feeling about her, Arch."
"You have a bad feeling about everything, Vee. You have trust issues."
"I trust you."
"Well, that's a given. I'm a pretty trustworthy guy."
"I don't know about all that." Ivy pauses. "Dinner, the Sunday after next. Can you handle that?"
"Where?" I ask her.
"If I say your place, will you promise not to go out of town or change the locks?"
"Chinese?"
"Keeps everyone happy. But maybe hide the booze from Seven this time."
Seven's drink of choice is tequila, although I don't think there's an alcohol he would pass up given the opportunity. And considering the dent London and I made in it last night, as long as I don't replenish it, he shouldn't get too fucked up with what's left. Maybe I'll go ahead and put a lock on the cabinet door just in case.
London comes out of the bathroom, her hair dried and in soft waves dancing around her shoulders. Even from this far away, I can see a light layer of mascara and a shade of lipstick I've never noticed her wear before. She avoids my gaze, going back into the bedroom and coming out with her purse a second later.
"I've got to go," I tell Ivy and hang up the phone, sliding it into my pocket as I hop up from my desk. "What's up?" I meet London halfway to the door.
"Just going to work." She barely looks up at me and unease settles over me like the cold of night.
"Oh." I take a breath in and exhale. "Want me to walk you?"
London adjusts the bag over her shoulder, still not quite focusing on me. "No. I'm good. I'll be fine." She moves to the door and I reach out and catch her arm.
"Is everything okay? Between us?" I want to punch myself in the dick for asking such a question. It sounds so desperate and pathetic and if I had a time machine, I'd erase it from existence.
"Yeah." She nods. "Of course it is. Sorry, a lot on my mind is all."
There's no denying that London is going through a plethora of shit, but still, I'm not convinced she's telling me the truth. And it isn't exactly my place to pry. Just because we have these moments of closeness doesn't mean we are anything other than strangers forced to live under the same roof. The sooner I come to terms with that, and I mean fully fucking grasp it, the better.
I guess I thought something in our dynamic shifted last night. I shared things I don't talk to anyone about, and maybe I'm an idiot for thinking it brought us closer together.
"I'm here," I tell her. "If you need to vent, get it off your mind."
"Thanks." London gives me a fake smile before slipping out the front door and leaving me behind to wonder where things went wrong.
Almost a week of awkwardness ensues as London does everything she can to avoid me. She's civil, but the most concerning thing is the lack of arguing with me every chance she gets. That's how I know with one hundred percent certainty something happened that she's not telling me. London loves arguing, getting on my nerves, and doing whatever she can to drive me insane.
But aside from only talking to me when directly asked or necessary, London hasn't made a single quip at me all week. She's even been picking up after herself and not leaving messes everywhere she goes.
I thought I would prefer it this way. The Archer who opened up the door to her bloodied and beaten was frustrated with her entire existence, but now all I want is for it to come back. I've tried poking to see if I could get something out of her, but she's put every wall possible between us and I'm at a loss for how to move forward.
I suppose the only thing I can do is leave what I thought we had in the past and focus on the task at hand—keeping her safe and getting her on her feet. I don't want her to go, but I can't make her stay, not when she clearly doesn't want to be here.
London has been in my bedroom for over an hour, getting ready for her date with Grace. Part of me is glad she's getting out and going and doing something with her friend, maybe that will make her feel better. And the other part of me wants to shake her and ask what happened, what went wrong, why she shut me out completely.
Although there's a larger part of me that wants to kick myself for caring and wondering why any of this matters to me. I'm getting exactly what I wanted. This was always a means to an end. London's stay was never permanent. And yet why does it ache this fucking badly?
The door to my bedroom opens and London steps through, wearing an olive-green dress, making her hair and eyes pop even that much more. I steady my breathing and pretend to type something on my keyboard, hitting buttons that don't do anything other than piss off my computer.
London clears her throat, my attention returning to her faster than it should. "I'm leaving," she says. "I'll be back in a few hours."
I stand, not sure what else I'm supposed to do, and fight the urge to rush across the room and kiss her.
God damn it, Archer, pull yourself together .
"Okay," is all I can get out.
London hesitates like there's something else she wants to say. She drags her bottom lip into her mouth, tugging on it before meeting my gaze. "Can you do me a favor?"
Instinctually, my foot moves, then the other, my body gravitating toward her. "Anything."
She tilts her head up at me as I approach. "Can you please give me some privacy tonight? I know you like to keep a close eye on me, but for a change, can you just accept that I'm safe, and I'll let you know if something happens?"
My stomach drops. I hate the idea of not following her out of this apartment. It goes against everything in me. I'm supposed to keep her safe, how can I do that if I'm not watching her closely? What if this is the one time something bad happens because I was respecting her wishes?
"London, I…"
"Please, Archer." London stares up at me and it's everything I can do to keep my cool with the way her eyes meet mine.
I fucking hate that I feel this way, that I feel like I'm losing my cool.
I swallow the lump in my throat, along with my pride. "You swear to me, you'll be careful?" I ask her.
She nods. "And if I need anything, you'll be the first person I call." London pulls out her phone, pushes my contact, and lets it ring once before hanging up. "See, now you're all the way at the top."
Agreeing with her terms goes against everything in me, but I don't exactly have any other options unless I forbid her from going. And London has made it clear she's not a fan of being told what to do. Things are already sort of weird between us, I don't want to make it worse by disrespecting her wishes.
"Okay," I finally say.
Her face lights up and she stands on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss on my cheek. "Thanks, Archer." London leaves without another word, my heart going out the door with her.
I smack myself and mutter, "Get it together, you idiot. You barely know her. This isn't real."
London has been in my life for just shy of four weeks, and we've been stuck in forced proximity together, that has to be the reason I'm so fazed by this. I've spent the last few years alone, only going out when necessary, and doing everything I can to avoid any and everyone. I got quite used to living life that way. Then came London, like a fucking tornado, wrecking everything in her path, my life and peace included. Sure, we have this strange chemistry unlike anything I've ever experienced, but it's because we're both so different, which means we'd never actually be compatible. I have to get it through my head that this is fleeting and the only reason I'm interested is because it can't happen—it would never work, not in a million years.
Not to mention London has put distance between us since our drunken night together. I was under the impression it brought us closer, but her coldness the past week tells me otherwise, and if I'm not mistaken, I'm pretty sure she can't wait to get out of here. If I really care about her, I can't stand in the way of that.
Sliding into my computer chair with a sigh, I come to terms with the fact that I'd rather make London happy than keep her to myself, despite the tugging at my chest to do the opposite.
I can't be selfish, not with her.
So I go to work, typing away until I've infiltrated Camille's Wi-Fi next door, and scan the data to find her banking information. Twenty minutes later, I deposit money into her account and send her a text message.
Hey, Camille, it's Archer. London mentioned subleasing your apartment, so I went ahead and sent you the first and last months' rent and the first year. Let me know if you need more. You know where to find me.
If I can't have London here, at the very least I could have her next door. I just hope it's enough freedom to not push her any further away than I already have.
I sit back, my eyes glued to my computer monitor, my fingers practically begging to locate London. I cross my arms, uncross them, sit forward, run my hand through my hair, and rise to my feet. Maybe if I move away from my computer, I won't be compelled to break my promise of not stalking her.
Pacing around the living room, I fight with myself and the desire that's building like a volcano ready to erupt. I could just take a quick peek and make sure she's fine, and perhaps that would settle the urge.
"No," I tell myself and march to the kitchen, dragging out the remains of the bottle of tequila we shared together. I flick the cap onto the counter and tip the bottle back, taking three heaping gulps. It warms my chest, burning and temporarily distracting me, but not long enough.
With zero self-control, I return to my computer, not even sitting down before my hands find the keyboard, my fingers having a mind of their own as they type away. It takes me an embarrassingly short time to find her and when I do, I pause, my finger resting above the button that will bring up the camera feed.
I shouldn't do it. I can't do it. I won't do it.
But my finger keeps inching closer, and closer, until I do the very thing I shouldn't.
It takes my eyes a second to adjust as they scan the room, searching and doing everything they can to locate her red hair.
My heart stops upon locating her, Grace sitting across the table. But it's then that I realize they aren't alone…Leo is there, too, and so is another man. I clench my fist, not even fully meaning to, and lean down to take a better look.
A round of cocktails is delivered to the table and London smiles politely at the waitress. The man next to London puts his hand on her shoulder and says something, but I can't hear him over the thudding in my head, my heart beating so fucking hard that it's in my ears.
I stand up and turn around, dragging both of my hands through my hair. "Calm down, Archer. She's allowed to be on a…" But I can't even say the word date out loud. It's like the word is forbidden from my vocabulary when it comes to her and someone else.
Is this why she asked for privacy? Because she had a feeling that I would watch and find out she was on a date with someone else? Why wouldn't she have just told me instead of lying by omission?
You ruined her last date , I remind myself, the memory of blasting through intersection after intersection on my motorcycle coming back in a flash. I ripped the window out of that guy's car and stopped traffic to insist she get out of the car and come home with me. And that followed me cutting the power to the restaurant she was in, but it was for good reason, that guy was being shady as fuck. I was doing her a favor and getting her out of harm’s way.
Who's to say this guy is like the other? Maybe he has good intentions. But who am I kidding, he's probably friends with Leo, which means he's not far from being scum of the earth. Leo is a playboy, rotating women left and right, only keeping them around just until the new starts to wear off and discarding them for another the second he gets bored. He's never committed to anyone longer than a month or two, and it won't be long until he does the same thing to Grace. I'd be concerned for her if I wasn't sure she's only dating him to piss Seven off, which is another thing entirely.
Do I love that Grace is icing Seven out and going behind his back to date his brother? Absolutely. Do I worry for her life because of how deranged my brother can be? One hundred percent.
Either way, she isn't my problem, and right now, the only concern on my mind is what London thinks she's doing with this guy.
I lower the volume coming out of my speakers; maybe that will suffice to give London the freedom she asked for. I'm just watching, not listening, that must count for something.
But when he puts his hand on her shoulder again and she smiles at him, I restrain myself from shoving my fist through the fucking screen.
I breathe deeply, in through my nose and out my mouth, attempting to calm my raging nerves. This shouldn't bother me this badly, and yet it does, which only pisses me off more.
The guy pulls his phone out of his pocket, glances at the screen briefly, and then puts it away, like he's hiding something.
Or he's being polite , the angel on my shoulder says.
I want to tell it to fuck off but it has a point. This guy would be an idiot for focusing on his phone instead of the beautiful woman sitting next to him.
A waitress approaches, a tray of oysters in her grasp. She sets it on the table and I rapidly press the volume button. London is a vegetarian, whose fucking brilliant idea was it to get oysters as an appetizer?
"Can I get you anything else?" she asks the table, her voice coming in faintly over my speakers. There's chatter from everyone in the restaurant but I can hear her enough.
"Let's go ahead and order," Leo announces and clears his throat. "I'll have the steak, rare, potatoes. The lady will have a grilled chicken salad with the house dressing on the side." He hands the waitress his and Grace's menus and I can't help but wonder if they discussed this beforehand or if my brother just became even more of an arrogant prick.
The waitress turns her attention to London and whatever the fuck that guy’s name is. "And for you?"
"We'll do the same," the guy tells the waitress
My mouth drops open. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Actually," London interjects. "I'll have the butternut squash ravioli. And a side of fries." She pauses and adds, "And another one of these." She holds her almost empty cocktail glass up.
Grace speaks up, "Scratch the salad, I'll have the same thing she's having." She winks at London and a weird sense of pride fills me at seeing these two defy the disgusting male egos sitting at their table.
It's one thing to order for a woman, but to take it upon yourself to make the decision that they need a salad is something else entirely. You figure out what your woman likes, and then you order for her, to be a gentleman, not a controlling asshole.
Moments like this make me embarrassed to be Leo's brother.
"Anyway," the guy says once the waitress is walking away. "Dig in." He puts an oyster onto the plate in front of London but she doesn't move toward it.
"Maybe I failed to mention it but I'm a vegetarian."
The guy looks at her for a long moment and shrugs. "It's an oyster, that doesn't count."
London's hand, which was resting on the table, carefully and ever so subtly puts the tiny little fork they give you for oysters into her palm, and she tightens her grip around it. I lean in, watching with bated breath at the possibility that she might stab this guy for being so fucking ignorant. Maybe letting London go out on dates isn't an entirely bad thing after all. But when she loosens her grip, that lovely mental image floats away.
"It counts," is all she says, reaching and tipping back the rest of her drink. "Where is that waitress?"
I settle into my seat, hating myself for having given in, but not able to turn back now. I've already gone against her wishes, I might as well see this thing through.
"So, Austin, Leo tells me you're in logistics. What does that entail?" Grace says to Austin, the guy who won't stop reaching over and putting his grimy hand on London's back and shoulder.
If looks could kill, he'd be dead from across this screen.
"You know, this or that. Keeps me busy," Austin replies vaguely.
"Could you be any more evasive?" London straight-up asks him.
"Excuse me?" Austin says to her with a tone that sets my nerves ablaze.
My jaw tenses as I reach for my phone, transferring the feed over to it as I make my way toward the door. I keep my eyes on the screen, popping in an AirPod and grabbing my keys off the table. I know I should stay here, not react, but my gut is sending out blaring warning signs that I need to be closer to her just in case something happens.
"I said what I said," London continues. "You're being evasive. She asked you a question and you didn't even attempt to answer it. Why?" London takes the drinks the waitress brings over, offering her a brisk thank-you before turning her attention to Austin again. "I'm waiting."
"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" Austin looks to Leo. "Didn't tell me how disobedient this one was."
I slam the door to my apartment shut and jog down the stairs and into the parking garage as fast as I can. I shove my phone onto the front mount and don't even bother to put the helmet on or wait for my bike to fully warm up.
"You have some fucking audacity, don't you?" London says, but I don't catch it happening on the screen.
I'm too focused on bolting out of the parking garage, ignoring the oncoming traffic as I dart out in front of it. My front wheel comes off the pavement and I throttle through it with perfect control. If I don't stop at any of the lights or stop signs, I should make it to the restaurant in four, maybe five minutes. I drive onto the sidewalk, blasting past stunned pedestrians and back onto the street, slamming on my brakes to avoid a car, the back wheel coming up this time before I twist the throttle and leave them behind.
My gaze flickers down to the screen, the engine of my bike and blaring horns making it hard to hear what's going on. I twist the throttle more, not a care in the world other than getting to her as soon as I can. There's no telling what kind of shit Austin will pull, especially now that I place his name as one of the criminals Leo is friends with. I forgot he existed, nothing special about him other than the fact that he works with my brother. And even that isn't much to brag about.
Leo is successful, I mean, we all are, but every single one of us, me included, are notorious criminals. August might be the best one out of us but even that is a stretch. Ivy, on the other hand, she's a saint, and the fact that she puts up with the rest of us should grant her a special place in heaven if I believed in that sort of thing.
London's voice comes through my headphones. "Don't you fucking talk to me like that."
I push the bike harder, taking the last corner so fucking fast that the back tire kicks out and it takes all my strength to keep the bike from completely losing it. I pull up to the restaurant, manage to shove the kickstand down, and hop off without tipping the bike over, ignoring the valet as I march straight toward the entrance.
My phone rings and I push the button on my AirPod to connect it. "Yeah?"
"Archer," London says, catching me completely off guard.
"Yeah?"
"Can you come and get me?"
"I'm already here." I stomp past the hostess and go in the direction I can only assume London is.
"Wait, what?"
I lay my sights on her the second I'm through the door, her red head scanning the crowd to find me. We lock eyes and then I home in on him .
My hands are at his collar the moment I reach him, lifting him from his seat. "The fuck you think you're doing?" I yell in his face.
Austin's eyes go wide, along with everyone else’s in this place.
"Archie, c'mon, man," Leo says.
I release one arm from Austin to shove it into Leo's chest as he approaches me. "Don't you fucking start with me." I shove him away and return my attention to Austin. "You think you can talk to her like that?" I slam him against the wall, knocking a picture frame loose. My vision darkens, and my pulse sort of slows down at having him exactly where I want him. "I will fucking kill you."
"Archer," London calls out from behind me.
"Say something." I force Austin against the wall, his stature not much smaller than mine.
He grips my arms and tries to pry himself free but it's no use, my rage is calling the shots now.
"Let me go, you fucking psycho," Austin pleads.
"I'll show you a psycho." I tighten my grip on him and wonder how many people are about to bear witness to this.
"Archer," London says, her voice stern and piercing. She places her hand on my back and every inch of me softens. "Let him go, Archer."
I stare at the excuse of a man standing in front of me, his gaze darting back and forth between my eyes, his brow moist with sweat, his upper lip quivering. In a swift movement, I release him and take a step away, his body dropping the couple of inches I had been holding him up.
Austin runs his hand over his collar and catches his breath. "You need to get your bitch in check," he mumbles.
Everything goes red, and without giving it another thought, I reel my arm back and slam it into his face, his nose breaking the second my fist hits it. He cries out and I hit him again, grabbing him by the throat to hold him in place. I land two more blows before Leo and someone else peels me off Austin, who collapses to the floor, blood covering his face.
My chest heaves and I turn around to find the entire restaurant gawking at the show I gave them.
London plants both hands on my shoulders, steadying me toward her. "Archer, look at me."
I comply, her bright green eyes desperate in their attempt to calm me down. "Are you okay?" I ask her. "Did he touch you?"
She shakes her head. "I'm fine. I called you as soon as things got bad."
"I'll fucking kill him," I whisper so only she can hear, the words meant for no one other than her.
"I know." London trails her hands up to my neck, cupping under my chin. She runs her thumbs along my jaw, her touch soft and soothing. "I know."
"I ruined your dinner," I tell her, something apologetic in my tone.
"That's okay." London keeps her hands on me, her eyes on me, and for a second, it feels like we're the only ones in the room, and damn if I wish that were true.
As much as I don't want to, I break away from her, focusing my attention on everyone around us. "Out," I say loudly. "Everyone out." I scoot my hands in the air at the crowd, who for a split second I'm not convinced will listen to me. "My last name is Sin, and I am telling you all to get the fuck out." My gaze scans the tables, wanting to make sure I touch every person with my glare.
A few couples get up, my warning resonating now that they know who I am, or well, at least what I stand for, and this seems to spark the rest of the patrons to do the same.
An employee rushes over to me. "Sir, what can I help you with?"
"Get everyone out of here. Clear a table. Get those fucking oysters out of here. And so help me god, do not bring the steaks out." I take a breath and continue. "Bring her another drink." I turn around, Austin still resting against the wall. "Get the fuck out of here before I change my mind."
Austin bolts, not giving me a chance to say another word, and leaves the rest of us. He pushes past other people trying to get out and I grow a little disappointed in not ending him right here and now.
"Are you done yet, brother?" Leo says to me while leaning against the wall. "You sure do like making an entrance, don't you?"
"And you don't?" I take in Grace who's been seated at the table this entire time. "I'm sorry to ruin your evening, Grace. Let me make it up to you."
She nonchalantly shakes her head. "It's fine, honestly. It brought a bit of excitement."
Employees make quick work of clearing the table off, getting the last of the patrons outside, and closing the restaurant to just the four of us.
"Sir," the employee who greeted me a moment ago says. "In place of the steaks, what else would you like prepared? We have a lovely salmon and?—"
"Nothing with meat," I tell him. "I don't care what it is, only bring out vegetarian options."
"Any dietary restrictions?"
I glance at the rest of my party and tell him, "No."
"Very well, sir. And what can I offer you to drink?"
"I'll have whatever she's having." I point to the drink London had been gulping down, reminding me that she's already two drinks in. I'll have to keep a close eye on her so she doesn't get too intoxicated. I can't have her falling off the back of my bike on the way home.
"You didn't have to do this," London says as she approaches.
I reach out, defying every ounce of self-control within me, and cup her cheek with my hand. I lean in close, my mouth just against her ear, and mutter, "If you want to go on a date so badly, let it be with me."