Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
KIT
T he dress is almost too much. It’s beautiful, like something out of a dream. The second we walked through the doors of the upscale restaurant all eyes had been on me. I’m getting used to it. There’s no way having Rafe on my left and Grant on my right won’t attract people’s attention. They’re the hottest stars around and even if they weren’t, there’s something about them that draws you in. It’s what makes them so easy to watch in movies. The IT Factor. That certain magical something the greats have that the rest of us don’t.
Until tonight I would say that I definitely didn’t have the IT Factor but now…now I don’t know. Because everyone is looking at me. Not Rafe, not Grant.
Me.
I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would. Maybe because the dress is so gorgeous. I don’t even feel like I’m me in it. The neckline is lower than anything I’d normally wear, but it works in perfect harmony with the floor-length layers that dance and flow around me with every move I make, like I have my own personal wind machine. The bodice is made of lace and magic, it’s the only explanation for how it looks poured on to me the way it does. The shoes they gave me are gold strappy sandals with a heel that looks like it could be a weapon, if I was feeling creative enough.
I don’t know who helped Rafe and Grant with tonight’s outfit but they deserve a medal. I feel beautiful and strong, confident—so definitely not myself.
“They have a private dining space for us,” Grant tells me, touching my cheek before he steps back to look at me. “You look beautiful.”
“So do you,” I tell him, because it’s impossible not to. Grant looks so very handsome in his perfectly tailored suit, a dark blue that matches his eyes. He’s getting almost as much attention as me from the staff and guests at the bar where we’re enjoying a pre-dinner cocktail.
“Another whiskey?” the bartender asks Rafe and he nods. He’s quiet but that’s normal when we’re in public. It’s Grant that takes the lead when there’s people around. I get it. There’s always cameras on us now and people listening for gossip to sell. Grant’s much better at knowing just how to act under their scrutiny than either of us.
I give Rafe a sidelong look and the dark scowl on his face vanishes. He smiles back and it’s sweet, the expression at odds with the dark air he wears as well as the black dress shirt and slacks he’s in. I swallow hard when my eyes rest on the glint of the simple gold chain he wears and I smile. No suit for him, just the pure mafioso look he’s known for.
“You ready to head in?” Rafe asks me as he reaches forward and drags a finger along my bracelet. My belly flutters. I can’t believe this is my life. I’m wearing a bracelet with their names on it and it’s our anniversary.
“We’re yours forever.”
Forever. They want me forever.
I move my hand to cover Rafe’s, holding it still. “I love you.” Those three words come from my mouth easily because I mean them. I remember when saying ‘I love you’ was difficult. When the thought of letting someone else in was unthinkable. There was no way it would have been possible for the woman I’d been. Still haunted by the mother who hated her.
Mother wounds run deep. I don’t care what anyone says. No contact or contact, the damage a shitty mom can give you runs bone-deep. There’s no way to get out from under it without life-changing work.
For most people who manage it, that kind of work comes from therapy or a near death experience that inspires them to be altruistic. Maybe they give everything away and devote themselves to charity or they turn toward addiction, drugs and sex, adrenaline, anything that numbs them. For me, that numbness comes from Grant and Rafe.
My men are the cure to my mother wound.
I’m lucky compared to most. Not everyone has a pair of killers devoted to giving them the world to heal.
I smile at Rafe and lean back into Grant when he wraps an arm around my waist. “Yeah, I’m ready.” Grant kisses my cheek and ushers me to follow Rafe. It’s nice being between my men. I feel the weight of the room’s attention on us but it’s fine, because nothing can touch me with Rafe and Grant acting as a shield. It’s like being in a bubble with them in front and behind me. Rafe holds a hand back to me and I slip my hand into his. We turn down a hallway and I have to grab the flowing skirts swirling around my legs to make sure I don’t trip. Though, even if I did, I know the weight of Grant’s hand on my hip would catch me.
The light in the hallway is soft and golden. There are heavy dark wood doors on either side of the hall and when a door opens, I catch sight of a couple dining together at a beautifully made up table. Dark roses and gleaming china shine between them while a server uncorks a bottle of champagne with a flourish. I smile at the sight. A romantic dinner with Rafe and Grant without another soul is the perfect anniversary gift when I’ve already been given so much by the men I love.
Rafe doesn’t slow his steps to enter any of the rooms, though. “Where are we going?” I ask when we end up at the end of the hallway. There are no doors here, just a wall with a fancy mirror hanging in front of us in an ornate frame. It’s as tall as the wall and almost as wide but there’s nothing else there. I look behind me at Grant and he gives me a reassuring smile. He nods his head at Rafe.
“Just watch, sweetheart.”
I bite my lip but nod and do what he says.
Rafe slides his hand along the mirror. There’s a click and a second later the mirror slides to the side and I’m staring at an elevator.
“Holy shit,” I whisper.
Rafe motions for me to enter. “After you,” he says with a slight bow and I giggle as Grant guides me into the elevator. If it were anyone but them I’d suggest we go back to the bar but I don’t. Because it is them. I can trust them. So I get into the secret elevator.
“Why does this feel like a spy movie all of a sudden?” I ask when the doors slide shut and the elevator starts moving. It feels like we’re going down but I can’t tell. There are no lights or buttons, or even numbers telling me what floor we are going to.
Grant rubs his knuckles against mine. “It’s very exclusive. It used to be a speakeasy during prohibition. The owners kept some of its more secretive aspects functional.”
“This used to be a freight elevator,” Rafe says and taps the metal door. “Led down to a cellar and tunnels that connected to a few different drop off points. Tunnels aren’t in use anymore but the cellar is.”
“And that’s where we’re going?”
The elevator dings softly. “We are. Though it’s not a cellar anymore,” Grant says and when the doors open my breath catches at the sight of the low lit club in front of us. It’s chic and sexy and my writer’s brain goes to vampires, there’s no helping it. Golden lights shine along the red walls, dark marble floors absorbing the light and making everything feel more intimate. I look up and swallow hard. I can’t see the ceiling. Or, maybe I can and it’s black marble too. It makes me remember this used to be a cellar and I grab Rafe’s arm at the thought. Everything has weight down here. We’re closed in, so far below the surface. Maybe the thought should make me panic but it doesn’t, because I’m with Rafe and Grant.
Anywhere with them is heaven. The fact that this cellar turned underground club would be the perfect backdrop for a sexy vampire movie isn’t really a downside. I crane my neck to take it all in. Even the patrons and staff I see would make the perfect denizens of the dark. Everyone is beautiful and perfect, impeccably dressed and for once I don’t feel out of place. Who knew it was going to take a vampire bar for me to feel at home? The thought makes me smile and I can’t stop the grin on my face as I follow Rafe into the club. He catches my eye before he nods at a man standing guard by the elevator with a clipboard in his hand.
“Burdock, party of three, right this way,” he says, motioning a woman in a slinky silver dress towards us. “Lilah will see you to your seats.”
“Something funny, shy girl?” Rafe asks, his attention right on me, even though Lilah is easily the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in real life. She’s elegant and ethereal. I can hardly keep my eyes off of her but Rafe and Grant are focused only on me.
“This place looks like something out of a vampire movie,” I whisper to him. His lips turn up in a smile before he takes a look around and he nods.
“You’re right,” he chuckles. The sound has Grant leaning in close to us.
“What’s funny?”
“Kit thinks this place looks like a Blade ripoff,” Rafe tells Grant matter-of-factly.
Grant glances around the club and then snorts. “She’s right. The whole thing with the mirror was over the top but there’s a reason for it.” The hallway we’re walking down has dark wooden doors with curved golden handles that remind me of fixtures in a period drama.
“Oh and what’s the reason?” I ask.
“We didn’t want to spend our anniversary anywhere someone could find us,” Grant replies. Lilah stops walking and gives us a smile.
“Your seats for the show,” she says and pushes open the heavy door in front of us. The room is small and intimate with a circle table in the middle of it. A feast has been laid out for us but that’s not where my eyes go. They go to the curved window that spans the width of the room. When I enter the room, I get a better view point to see it overlooks a stage.
Rafe pulls out a seat for me while Lilah pours us wine. “Will there be anything else?” she asks, setting the bottle down beside Grant.
“No, that will be all. Thank you.”
“Of course. If you need me, there’s a button by the door,” she says, giving the doorframe a tap on her way out. The sound pulls my attention from the stage where no one has appeared yet and when I look at her, Lilah is gazing right back at me. Her eyes move over my face and down my neck. It feels like a caress and when she looks back up to my eyes, she smiles.
“Enjoy yourself. I know I would.”
I shiver at her words and nod before the door swings shut softly behind Lilah. The telltale sound of a lock sliding into place makes me raise an eyebrow.
“Did she just lock us in?” I whisper.
“Only away from the outside,” Rafe tells me and snags the linen napkin off the table and drapes it across my lap. “We can leave if we want but it keeps everyone else where they belong.”
Where they belong. He means outside. Away from us.
All my life I’ve felt like the one on the outside but with Grant and Rafe? Everything is different. It’s different because the men have made me their world, their center. As uncertain as I am about what they see in me or what keeps them with me, I know enough to recognize devotion when I see it. I rub my fingers along the gold bracelet with our names on my wrist.
“They mean loyalty and fidelity. It’s our promise to you, Kit. We’re yours forever.”
It’s not just pretty words they’ve given me, but their hearts. A feat when I know men like Grant and Rafe shouldn’t be capable of it but for me they do. When men like Rafe and Grant love, it’s for life.
Rafe pours wine in my glass while Grant shoots me an indulgent smile. “Are you hungry? I’ll serve you.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper, because my stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies. My heart starts to pound and it's hard to breathe. Oh my god, am I having a panic attack? I take in a quick breath and count to three before I let out my breath and take in another.
Men like Grant and Rafe are killers. That’s why they love the way they do. Everything they do is a balance of life and death. There is no in-between with them. I shiver at the brush of Grant’s thumb along my shoulder. My body knows it, just like my mind does. That’s why my fight or flight instincts are trying to kick on.
Run. Run and don’t stop.
I should but I don’t. My heart won’t let me. My stupid idiot heart loves Rafe and Grant more than it loves me. Even if I knew they would kill me, I wouldn’t leave them. I couldn’t. There would be nothing worth living for if I didn’t have them.
Grant murmurs softly to me, leaning close enough that his lips brush my ear when he speaks. “There will be a show soon.”
I look at the stage through the window and that’s when I notice the glass is slightly darker. Everything through it looks more intense, sharper, like I’m looking at it through smoke-tinted glasses.
“What kind of show?” I ask.
“A ballet,” Rafe answers, handing me a glass of wine. My hand shakes when I take the drink but I smile at him before I lean close and kiss him. He tastes like whiskey and spice with a hint of clove and I open my mouth to him when Rafe pulls me against him. The lights dim and Grant turns my face to him and replaces the feel of Rafe on my lips. Grant tastes of clean peppermint, the taste at odds but perfect after Rafe.
“Enjoy yourself. I know I would.”
Lilah’s words float back to me and I smile against Grant’s mouth. I know exactly how she would enjoy herself in the dim light of our booth. Low lights come on and cast the room in a warm glow, making it feel cozy and safe and I relax into Grant’s side with a satisfied sigh. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right between both of my men, Grant’s arm around my waist and Rafe’s hand on my knee. The table is small but big enough for us all to have our own space, though there’s no such thing with the three of us.
Rafe and Grant have pulled their chairs close. I can’t move without one of them moving with me and that suits me fine. The only way I would leave them is if I was dragged and even then it wouldn’t be for long because they would find me. Whoever did it would be dead before they even knew it. I shouldn’t find it comforting to know I’m safe because the men I love are more dangerous than anyone that has a mind to hurt me but I’m only human, so it does.
The sound of strings being plucked floats to us and I lean forward for a better look at the stage. Our little bubble has a perfect view and when I look out I see other dark-tinted windows circling the stage. Below us, there are people at tables enjoying dinner and conversation but I can’t hear them, even though I can see their lips move.
“Can they hear us?” I ask, trying to understand why I can hear the faint sound of a violin string being plucked but not the tables directly below us.
“They better fucking not for what we’re paying,” Rafe mutters.
Grant hums in agreement. “Speakers,” he says, pointing at the corner of the room as he nudges my dinner plate closer to me. “You need to eat.”
The food on my plate looks…interesting. It’s pasta, which isn’t the interesting part. The black noodles are–at least I think they’re black. The low light of the room makes it hard for me to tell but when I give the food a curious look, Grant is there to put a piece of thick crusty bread on my plate.
“Squid ink,” Grant explains and nudges my fork to me.
I pick up my fork and eat because I can tell from the look Grant is giving me he isn’t going to let up until I’ve gotten through more than half of my plate. Beside me, I see Rafe cut into a cake and I want to snag the piece he plates, but I know better.
I do that and they’ll both pitch a fit, so I eat. That’s when I see the dancers.