THIRTY-EIGHT
Harry
Just look at her.
She’s fucking angelic.
Why the fuck did I ever doubt her?
Richard decides to host an event for the momentous occasion, and he opts for the most lavish bar in all of Mayfair. Just a few streets down from Grosvenor Square is Pascals, which is currently sectioned off with a thick red rope for our party only. And I’ll give him credit where it’s due – no one knows how to party better than fucking criminals.
The place is almost as elegant as the woman we’re celebrating tonight. The walls are dressed in a dark forest green that complements the lavish gold bar. Velvet loveseats and sofas line the perimeter, perched underneath bay windows dressed with heavy burgundy curtains.
The glass chandelier – which looks like it cost no less than my monthly paycheck – shines a reflection of colours across Gigi’s brown eyes. It knocks me out of focus as I take a second to stand and appreciate her. She walks with poise, her shoulders lifted, taking everything in her stride, with a smile capable of luring a sailor to his death.
She’s magnificent.
It’s just a shame Richard is pulling her from pillar to post like some kind of fucking trophy.
I clutch at my glass, taking another generous mouthful of spirit and welcoming the burn against the back of my throat as she’s swept off her feet by Hudson fucking Anderson. The trail of her cream silk dress catches against her feet, and even through the clinking of glasses, the echo of chatter, and the strum of the live jazz band her laughter rips a layer off my heart, costing me a decade of my life.
When her hand lands on his chest to catch herself I feel the tips of my ears redden. If she hadn’t almost died just hours ago, I’d fucking kill her for having her hands on another man. It’d probably be selfish of me to give her anything less than a few hours before forcing her to entertain the idea of death again. And besides, if I’m being honest, I’m thankful the bastard tore her from Richard’s toxic claws.
He’ll live.
For now.
As if she can tell her time is limited, she finds me across the crowded room. Our eyes meet over the shoulder of Hudson’s probably stupidly expensive suit jacket. Her lips part as I watch her above the rim of my glass. That bastard with his hands on her hips must have said something, because I see her mouth form an apology as she breaks our gaze, turning to him.
Seeing her in the flesh, knowing she’s alive and well, completely counteracts the raging anger I had when I found her walking across that fucking rope. I couldn’t bear to see her life on the line, so I snuck into Andy’s apartment and sat in a dark corner pathetically drinking myself into alcoholism until he came bursting through the door. He’d witnessed the whole thing, and I would’ve punched the smug grin right off his fucking mouth if he wasn’t my best mate.
Like right now, as he spills his nonsense in my ear about how cool it was to watch her, as if she’s a bloody gymnast. It’s jarring, but I can cope with it. But I draw the line when Poppy comes over with a clear attitude .
Folding her arms across her chest, she huffs, “It wasn’t even that impressive.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Andy asks. “It was brilliant! The way she pulled herself up from the rope like some kind of titan. She was all—”
And I’ve had enough.
She’s had two minutes too long with her hands on another man.
Downing the rest of my glass, I place it on the corner of the bar and stride over to the centre of the room, not giving a fuck if it looks like I’m staking my claim. My balls are so blue they’re practically black at this point, so if Richard wants to threaten me with the fraternisation rule, I’d love to see him try.
“You don’t mind if I take her off your hands, do you?” I ask as I approach Hudson and Gigi.
While her brows are downturned in annoyance, he seems taken aback.
“I didn’t think so.”
Without allowing either of them time to fully register my intrusion, I attach my hand to Gigi’s hip and tug her forwards, into my chest. She stumbles from the sudden movement, bringing herself closer to me. Using it to my advantage, I slip my spare arm around her lower back and tug her tight. I whisper, “I don’t fucking share. Why haven’t you wrapped your pretty little head around that simple concept yet?”
She scoffs and tries to step backwards to distance our bodies, but my grip is stern as she hits my crooked forearm.
“Let me go,” she tells me. “Let me go, or I’ll scream.”
I tug her closer towards me, resting my chin on her shoulder. My lips drop to her ear as I move us in a slow circle, so it’ll appear to onlookers like we’re in some kind of enchanting dance.
“I think I’ll choose the latter, princess. You wouldn’t want to cause a scene at your own party.”
With her body so close to me, I can feel her heart thumping against her chest and onto mine. I truly think I know her better than she knows herself .
Yet she says, “You clearly don’t know me at all.” Gigi plays along, bringing her hand up my back to clasp the back of my suit. Her nimble fingers clutch my collar and tug, restraining the front of my throat and limiting my ability to breathe. “Besides, I’m part of your little clan now. You can’t boss me around anymore.”
I can practically smell her burning flesh like the very day it happened. It’s all an illusion, of course, the reminders haunting me when I least expect them. While she wears them with pride, the scars on her body are a constant reminder of my failure to her. I’ve devoted the past year to trying to distance her from this toxicity to no avail. Now she’s one of us. And she’s further from mine than she’s ever been.
If Gigi’s truly insistent about her life within the Circle, I can’t afford to have her out of my sight. I know something dark lies under the surface. Something far greater than the society. If she refuses to leave, then my obsessive tendencies towards her will have only just begun.
My attention strays as one of the recruits, Leroy, wanders in through the front entrance. The young lad walks in with a smirk, greeting those by the front with confidence despite the obvious hickey on his neck. His shirt is stained with a lipstick mark, and my blood curdles at his stupidity. Rumour around camp is that he’s been fraternising with one of the women – I’m not sure of her name. But he’s not being fucking sly about it. It’s only a matter of time before he gets one of them killed.
Gigi turns her attention back to me, and for a fraction of a second our lips are barely an inch from one another’s. Her gaze is on my mouth as she says, “N-no more of your funny business either.”
I smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby.”
She hisses at the name, drawing back as if the word itself is venomous. “I’m being serious, Harry.”
I release my grip on her waist and allow her the impression she’s free to leave. When she starts to turn, I catch her wrist and force her to meet my gaze.
“And so am I, princess. Listen to me when I say I’ve devoted my life to you in ways you’ll never understand. You’ve ruined my past and you’ve ruined my future. So you can bet your pretty little head I’m going to ruin your present,” I say darkly, truthfully.
Her eyes widen, her pupils dilating until there are only slivers of brown. “Are you drunk or something?”
“Are you pretty?” I ask, and her nose crinkles. “Don’t ask stupid questions. Now feel free to run along to Mr. Anderson – I’ve got some revenge to plan … like what I’ll put on his gravestone when we leave here tonight.”
Finally taking that step away from me, she points her finger right in my face. “You’re sick.”
I reiterate, “No. I’m fucking obsessed, baby. There’s a difference.”