Chapter 6. #2
And if that’s what he wants, then I’ll make sure to get rid of everything in his way so he can run as fast as he can.
“We’re going out.” I was hesitant at first when I’d knocked on his door. But there isn’t anything in this house that can possibly change my mind now.
Christian frowns, “We? Where are we going?”
I have to force my shoulders to relax, so we can at least move past the last few minutes, “I promised I’d show you around. I’m bored so we’ll do it today.”
Christian raises a brow, but he doesn’t refuse, “Fine. Let me change into something else.”
“That doesn’t matter, just come.”
Christian’s mouth opens and closes, and it’s my turn to watch him with a raised brow until he finally makes up his mind and his expression turns serious, “No, I’m very sure I need to change.”
Fóllame. “Deja de ser lindo and get your ass outside.”
He doesn’t understand a word I’ve said, and even though he follows me out of the room, he watches me sceptically.
The rest of the team is already waiting for us downstairs. Xavier’s energy is everywhere, as it always is whenever he’s not fighting. It’s unfathomable that I’ve only ever seen him at his calmest when we’re in danger, as though all the ADHD in his body hones itself just for violence.
“It feels like I haven’t stepped outside in weeks,” Xavier fidgets impatiently, tugging his brown jacket down over his white collared shirt and blue jeans, as if the length bothers him, and tousling a hand through his hair.
Just watching him makes me anxious.
Tobias looks up from his phone with a raised brow, dressed sharply in a pale blue shirt with long sleeves and blue jeans.
“You do know you can leave the grounds at any time?” he asks.
“And walk around the city by myself?” Xavier shudders, “I refuse. City people are feral.”
“Said like a true foreigner,” I chuckle. Xavier’s face pulls in looks from all over on a bad day. His asian eyes and unblemished skin make him an easy target for all kinds of people… and I mean all kinds. It never stops being hilarious.
Gabriel comes up behind, in a black jacket, white shirt and black jeans, and if you throw in my handsome face, grey long coat, white long sleeves shirt and blue jeans—
I'd say we’re about to give the city a run for its money.
Christian takes one look at our getup and immediately turns around.
“No, no.” I can’t help that I’m grinning as I throw an arm around his shoulder and steer him back around.
“I told you I can change clothes,” Christian lets me steer him away begrudgingly, mumbling and refusing to meet my eyes.
“I’ve seen your clothes, traitor-killer. It’s no difference really.”
He scowls, but I pat his shoulders reassuringly, “Don’t worry, that’s partially what the trip is for. We’re here to save you from yourself.”
He mumbles something else under his breath but soon enough I’ve rallied him into our SUV and Wesley is driving us out of the gates and onto the streets of high society, across the lake that separates our neighbourhood from the bustle of the city.
The silence is a lot more comfortable than it was when we were travelling from Portland.
Gabriel and Christian’s initial bad start had lessened into something a lot more tolerable, thanks to the consistent sparring sessions.
Tobias is a lot more relaxed in his seat than before, when he was keeping one eye on Christian’s movements at all times.
Bit by bit, they’ve all gotten used to him.
Xavier never stops being Xavier. I don’t even know what he’s talking about now, but I know he’s talking. It’s become white noise at this point.
Somehow, I end up thinking about the shootout at the shop in Portland.
I’d waved my ass in public for everyone to see, mostly on a whim to bait the Romano family out, but turns out they weren’t completely stupid; the men that came after us couldn't be traced to them, or any other gang for that matter…
and we didn't exactly leave any alive to ask questions.
In hindsight, maybe a lapse in judgment.
I’m uncertain if the bastards were just that smart or if it really was someone else who had the gall.
Whatever the case, all my hard work was for nothing and Father wasn’t the least bit pleased.
Still, he barely slapped me on the wrist for my recklessness; the moment the family meeting adjourned and my brothers and I stepped out of his office, I’d given Baal this huge grin that earned me a smack across the back of my head.
It’s jealousy really.
In little over an hour, we’re pulling off the main highway and into the De La Vie shopping district, the heftiest one on this side of the state, and Wesley is leaving us behind on the polished walkway.
Even the air on this side of the city feels expensive in my lungs, and when I turn, Christian is looking both out of place and uncomfortable, in his grey sweats and white tee.
But his energy is shining brighter and more beautiful than any of the others lingering in the periphery, and for a single moment, the sight of him is overlapping with the memory of earlier, the sight of his bare chest, and the lines of his body.
The briefest trace of his scar beneath my knuckles and the warmth of his stomach.
I pull my gaze away forcefully.
I’m completely zoned out when I step into Louis Vuitton and the store supervisor, Julia, comes to greet me. She’s a mature woman with wavy dark hair and a beaming smile, and I have no choice but to rein myself into the present and drag the socialite gleam to my eye with a practiced smile.
“Julia, you have no idea how much of your help I need today,” I breathe out.
“You’re in luck, Mr. Taiga, you can always count on me to help,” Julia looks around at the familiar faces in the group. “Which one is it today? Has Xavier torn another masterpiece?”
“Thankfully, his sets are still going strong,” I pull Christian forward by the wrist, ignoring the way the contact feels electric. “It’s this unfortunate soul today.”
Julia blinks twice before regaining her composure masterfully, “Understood. This way, please.”
Christian’s expression remains indifferent, but it’s been long enough now that I’ve realized, the colder his mask is, the more uncomfortable his energies become—they become jittery in the air around him, like some mental manifestation of Xavier’s ADHD.
It’s so bad that for a moment I don’t think he’s breathing and I’m half concerned he might give himself a heart attack.
It’s for his own sake that I find myself inclined to follow after him.
I spin on my heels, squinting at the others suspiciously, “Don’t break anything.”
“Since when do you need a new wardrobe?” Xavier watches me with confusion.
“When do I not?” I grin.
The store is huge, even for a city like Seattle, yet there are only a handful of people on the inside.
Strictly speaking there’s only one type of money that can walk around in here so leisurely like we can, so it’s why Christian, Julia and I get our own room with walls painted the colour of lush champagne and furnished with navy blue couches.
Men’s clothes encircle the room, lining the walls with styles of every kind and even though Christian’s mask is flawless still, his energy vibrates with new discomfort.
He's flustered.
My eyes snap to the source of it, following his gaze to pinpoint the cause of his nervous energy.
And my mood drops like a stone when they land on Julia.
You're joking.
“I'm going to take measurements for some custom suits for you first.” Her smile is professional and bright, completely oblivious to the effect she has on my new recruit and my eyes narrow.
“Then we can work on some other casuals for you later,” she finishes and Christian nods once. She gestures with her hand for him to step forward, circling him and raising his arm to measure him mentally, as she always does.
But the moment she touches him, I can feel myself scowl.
Which doesn’t make any sense.
She’s a tailor.
Tailors touch people.
“Have you thought about a single or double-breasted suit jacket?” she asks.
“It doesn't matter to me.” Christian’s lie is immaculate.
She hums as she turns around to take a look at him, “Are you comfortable with a two-piece or three-piece suit? Oh, and the lapel. We recently received some gorgeous shawl designs. I think they'll suit your build very well.”
Christian doesn't respond, but his energy is doing panicked somersaults behind him.
It's hurting me just to look at him.
I’ve already half-convinced myself that Julia needs to be relocated to a branch closer to the North Pole, until I realize… it isn’t Julia that’s making him panic.
He’s confused.
“I don't know if you heard,” Julia continues as she directs Christian to a room with three mirrors along the walls, “but Jake Gyllenhaal wore something similar to the Gala this year, and since then they've been flying off the racks.”
The confusion filtering into his energy only gets worse.
“I see,” he deadpans.
I cough to hide my chuckle, clearing my throat when he shoots me a puzzled look.
“Hands up.” Julia reaches for the measuring tape on her desk, before turning to look at Christian expectantly.
Christian doesn't move, and I'm tilting my head to one side with a smile on my face as I watch the debacle play out. A smile that all but freezes on my face when Christian steps into her space and leans over her shoulder to whisper in her ear.
Now it's no longer cute. My brain completely stutters and dies.
I'm frozen to the spot when I hear the soft rumble in his voice, but he's speaking so softly I can't hear his words. Her eyes widen slightly with surprise, before a small blush comes to her cheeks and her energy switches to an obnoxious shade of violet.
A burning sensation fills my chest and I'm seconds away from pulling my gun, but who do I shoot first?
I watch her slide her fingers down his hand with a playful light in her eyes and before I can step forward and break her wrist, she's pulling his hands into the air on either side of him.