Chapter 9.
‘Christian’
A low groan trickles from me. I don’t even have the energy to curse him, let alone defend myself. Doesn’t he have anything else to do than watch me?
Tobias is practically on his seventh drink by the bar—with no sign of intoxication by the way, I might have to ask him to teach me—
Xavier’s chatting with all the guests who approach him with a professional smile, exuding the charm of a VIP guest, instead of a bodyguard.
Gabriel is the only one keeping to himself, like a wallflower on the south side, steering people away by being his usual rude, asshole self.
But I talk to one woman and Reuben wants to throw me overboard.
“Where are you, sir?” I respond calmly through the device, but I think I’ve finally worked up the energy to be frustrated.
I spot him before he can answer, and something strange happens to my nerves when our eyes meet.
There’s a smile on his lips and a heat to his eyes that looks feral.
His grey jacket is thrown over one shoulder and his sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows as though he’s prepared to fight on the fly.
For a moment, he looks every bit the son of a major mafia family.
Wild and barely kept on the end of his leash.
“Knowing when to be polite with me is good,” his voice is a low taunt in my ear that only intensifies my nerves. “Smart.”
Crazy bastard.
He turns away from me without any motion to follow, but I do so anyway. One look across the bar, and I meet Tobias’ eyes. I’m hoping he saw the exchange and noted my distress, but he only salutes two fingers towards me from his forehead, before turning back to down his drink.
Looks like a death salute to me.
Useless.
Reuben leads me away from the crowd and down below deck without another word, and the entire time, my frustration is mounting.
The silence between us is charged and he leads me down a decorated corridor before opening the door to a room for me to enter.
Suite 106. He and I stand locked like that for maybe four seconds, before I convince myself I need this over with.
The longer the night wears on, the worse my emotions fray at the seams. I don’t even know who to blame for it now. Myself? The drink? Lucia? Reuben?
I steel myself as I step inside the suite.
It’s separated into a living space with a black piano at its centre, and a door leading to what must be the bedroom and bathroom.
There’s even a sliding glass door that leads to a large deck on the outside, and it reminds me of another James Cavalier saying.
‘Money can get you anywhere.’
The moment the door closes I turn to face Reuben, but I don’t even get a word in before he grabs my cheeks with one hand and pulls my face up.
“What the fu—”
“Odio este maldito colour en ti,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Whad? Whad are you ‘oing?” It’s a mess trying to talk with his grip on my jaw.
“This. You see this?” He shakes my face left and right, “I'm fucking tired of seeing this. I think it's about time you show me something else.”
A flash of anger shoots up my spine, and I attempt to wrench his hand away but the bastard doesn’t budge.
“Le’ go of me, ‘astard,” I shoot him a withering look.
Reuben tilts his head as if coming to a realization, “On second thought, this is kind of adorable.”
I have to use both hands to pry his fingers off my face, “What’s wrong with you?” I snap, rubbing my jaw. “You’re fucking crazy.”
“The surprise is really uncalled for, estrellito,” the amusement in his eyes is suspicious to say the least, “but the anger is cute too, I don’t see that one often.”
“I’m not a fucking TV,” I slap his hand away as it reaches for my face again.
“No, you’re even worse. It’s almost dangerous how much you distract the fuck out of me.”
“Then stop looking at me, asshole.” My anger must have reached its peak because I can no longer draw the line between subordinate and employer.
“It's my job to look at you, idiota.”
“No, it's your job to watch me Reuben, but instead you're reading me like a—” what do you call that profession again? “A therapist.”
“I love therapy,” Reuben’s grin widens and I have to step back instinctively. “We should hold sessions.” He steps forward and I step back.
“Reuben, you’re freaking me out.”
“You’re more pissed than freaked out.”
“I get pissed when people freak me out!” I snap. The bastard is having the time of his life but all my instincts are sensing danger.
“That combination isn’t so bad either,” he mumbles.
Bastard must be drunk as fuck. If he’s drunk then I can knock him out no problem, right? He won’t remember a thing… isn’t that how it works?
The moment he reaches for me, I’ve simultaneously lost my shit and thought it through, and my training has kicked in on impulse. I direct his outstretched hand away from me with my left and my fist shoots out to aim for his cheek.
The moment he catches my knuckles, I know I’ve fucked up big time.
He twists my hand around and pulls my body with so much force, I’m stunned as I’m pinned to the wall.
“You know, I think this is the first time a member of my team has tried to hit me.” His breath tickles my neck, and it’s unfortunate, but I don’t smell alcohol on him. Both his closeness and his scent are enveloping me and I find myself bristling.
“Is this how they did things on the Adler Squad?” The sound of his voice sends a tingling sensation across my spine again, but his words make my heart drop like a fucking stone. I have to bite back the hiss that lingers in my throat from all those days as a cat.
“Hitting your boss. Flirting with women on the job. Behaving like a lost puppy whenever one of them rejects you.” The crazy tone in his voice has all but melted into a strange cold and I find myself scrambling with new fear. Not from what he’s about to do, but what he’s about to say.
“Reuben, don’t you fucking—”
“It’s no wonder the Adler Squad ended up the way it did, right?”
It’s like he forced frost down my throat. My emotions still and for a moment I can’t think.
I can’t feel.
“A leader like you is really too wishy-washy.” His voice pushes a strange cold into the pit of my stomach. “I expected an adult, the ‘Great Christian Adler’. Portland’s number one enforcer… but it seems I got a child instead… Looks like the order got a bit mixed up.”
Like a spark, the frozen stillness inside me snaps into a rushing flame.
Before he can react, I pull him down to get as low as I possibly can and throw my body back quickly to catch him off guard, putting some space between me and the wall, to kick off it with both feet and send us crashing to the floor.
The moment he loses his grip, I whirl around to grab him by the collar. I’m above him, legs braced on either side of his waist when I raise my fist.
I don’t care that he’s my employer. Or my second saviour. Or a Taiga.
I don’t care for the apology in his eyes, or the crazy smile on his face when my knuckles connect with his cheek.
Reuben's smile doesn’t even break, “Ahi esta.”
He lets me hit him exactly three times before locking my arm on my fourth swing and twisting his body until he’s on top of me.
Still, it doesn’t end. I free one leg just in time to swing it towards his head. Bastard stops that too, with his other hand. He doesn’t say anything more as I try to strike him, and he doesn’t try to hit me back, only attempts to restrict me.
But I’m not thinking about any of those things, I’m swinging and kicking with everything I have.
Until I just can’t anymore. Until I’ve stopped completely and the gaping hole of his words has gotten bigger and bigger, dragging my anger to a stop like the emergency brakes of a screaming train.
It can’t be more than a minute. Of silence—of stillness. Of the sound of our lungs gasping for air. Of the sudden ache in my chest that’s bleeding. But the moment Reuben steps forward, into my space, I grab him by the collar, “Apologize or I won’t forgive you.”
My anger has deflated and he knows it, because his eyes flicker and his voice is sincere, “I’m sorry.”
But it’s not enough. There’s still this big gaping hole in my chest from his words.
“No, get on your fucking knees and apologize to me!” I yell.
I know he won’t. Why would he? When everything he says is the truth. I can feel a familiar sting behind my eyes, and the world has become blurry again. My second tears since Christian’s death—the tears I could always feel but never came.
A broken sound leaves me as I release Reuben. Unfamiliar. Raw.
I am a child, aren’t I? I don’t even know how to grieve properly. I drop to a crouch because it’s too much. If it was this painful to let out, then I’d rather have kept it in.
“I’m sorry.” Reuben’s voice is suddenly closer than I expected, inviting me to open my eyes.
And his face is right before mine. Even with my blurry vision, the obsidian colour of his irises is sharp and clear.
Reuben Taiga.
Down on one knee.
I don’t have the strength to pull away when he rests his palm against my cheek; I can only shut my eyes tightly against the pain that is suddenly gushing out of my chest.
“I was wrong.” He tries to wipe my tears away, brushing his thumb against my skin, and somehow, it only makes another broken cry leave my throat—makes the world even more blurry.
“Every time I look at you, I can see you’re hurting, estrellito.” Reuben’s voice is quiet. Gentle. “I can see it eating you up every time you’re alone… You can’t keep going like this.”
I hate that I can’t say anything. I hate that it hurts so fucking much, but every moment of my tears eases the pressure in my chest. I feel ashamed that I can’t help the agony. I didn’t know I could feel shame for grieving.
Maybe because I don’t have the right to grieve… I’m not human after all.