Chapter 32 Juliet
JULIET
Silver glimmers and sparkles beneath the bathroom lights as I finish applying a coat of mascara.
It’s been so long since I’ve worn any sort of makeup that I was a little worried I’d fuck up the look I’m going for.
Nearly half my life spent applying it, however, seems to come back to me in my moment of need.
As I step back and take a look at myself in the mirror, I’m actually impressed.
The dress that I’d ended up buying from Sunny’s shop is a mixture of gauzy bejeweled lace and satin. It conforms to my body, the fabric clingy, but not tight.
Despite the fact that the price tag of the gown wouldn’t even cover a pair of shoes at stores I used to frequent, it looks better than anything else I’ve ever owned. If I stopped for a second to consider the reason, I might discover that it’s because they bought it for me.
A knock sounds against the door and then the handle turns. “Jules, are you ready to—” Gio halts, his eyes going wide as they land on me. For a brief moment, neither of us says anything. Then, he blinks and releases the quietest curse I’ve ever heard from him. “Fuck…”
“I need to put up my hair,” I tell him, turning away as I feel the skin of my cheeks begin to heat. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Calm the fuck down, Juliet. This isn’t like a real date with them. It’s a mission.
Yanking a brush through the aquamarine strands, I hurriedly sweep the locks up and anchor the mass to the back of my head with a matching faux-silver hair clip. That, combined with the costume jewelry earrings and the black heels I’d picked up from a thrift shop completes my winter formal look.
“All right,” I say. “Done.” I turn quickly to find that Gio is no longer alone in the bathroom doorway.
Lex and Nolan stand behind him. All three men have the same stunned look on their faces and I pray that the foundation I found at the dollar store has decent coverage, otherwise I’m about to look like a ripened tomato.
I clear my throat when the guys just stand there. “Are you guys ready to go?”
Nolan is the first to gather himself, nudging Gio aside as though he’s nothing more than an obstacle. He moves in, slow and deliberate, his gaze burning through me. I back up instinctively, spine brushing the edge of the counter, and tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.
“What?” I ask, because his stare is too much—hungry, scorching, and dangerous all at once.
“You look beautiful, Juliet,” he says, voice low, almost… reverent.
I’ve heard them before, but coming from him, those words do something new to me. They dig under my skin, coiling tight around my ribs. I don’t get the chance to respond, though, because Gio steps in next, moving around to my other side. His grin is as playful as it is hungry.
“Beautiful?” His eyes drag down the line of my dress. “You look fucking lethal, Prep Girl.”
“Okay, that’s en—” I push past both Gio and Nolan with a shake of my head and a forced laugh choking in my throat, only to draw up sharp as Lex’s hand brushes mine.
Grounding and possessive, he doesn’t bother with compliments—just a hard, silent look that promises to do all sorts of filthy things to me later in the night.
My pulse hammers. I’m not sure if I should feel like prey or queen, caught between the three of them, pinned by their gazes. Maybe both.
When I finally manage to get them out of the bathroom and the four of us outside, night has already fallen.
The cold winter air bites at my skin and before I can turn around and head back into the house to grab a jacket, something warm drops over my shoulders.
A quick glance reveals one of the guy’s suit coats.
I look up as Gio steps up next to me with a grin.
“Are you not cold?” I ask.
His snort is loud. “Standing next to you, Prep Girl?” He bends close and presses his lips close to my ear. “I’m about ready to strip, you make me so hot.”
Asshole. I shove him away and roll my eyes.
“Here it comes,” Nolan calls, and I look up in time to watch him slide his phone back into his pocket.
I don’t have to ask what he means because I can see a flashing pair of headlights making their way down Lex’s recently cleared gravel driveway.
My jaw unlocks and drops as the limo comes to a stop behind Gio’s Firebird and Lex’s SUV.
“Why the hell are we taking a limo?” I ask even as Gio wraps his fingers around my bicep and leads me across the pathway as a man gets out of the front seat. I know the answer, though, as soon as I see him. “Viks?”
He smirks and circles the limo, stopping at the back door and propping it open for us. “Nolan told us what you were planning,” he says, answering the unspoken questions that I’m sure are written all over my face. “I thought you might like to get there in style and with a little backup.”
Viks’ attention lifts away from me and moves to where Lex is standing slightly farther back, his features a mysterious blank mask.
Though I’m sure Viks actually means his offer, it’s clear that there’s another reason backing up his presence here.
Despite everything that we’ve thrown at him, the fact is, he was never here for me or the others. Viks is here for Lex. His nephew.
“We appreciate it,” Nolan says, stepping up and offering Viks his hand. Viks takes it, but doesn’t pull his gaze from Lex.
“Come on, Jules,” Gio murmurs, nudging me forward to the open door. “It’s too cold out here for you.”
I crawl into the back of the limo, sliding along the leather seat until there’s more than enough room for the guys to join me.
Gio is the first one inside, but Viks, Lex, and Nolan remain outside for a few more minutes, stepping away from the open doorway to talk.
Their voices drift close, but I can’t quite hear what they’re saying.
Then, Nolan and Lex break away and come towards the back and Viks heads for the driver’s seat.
As soon as everyone is inside the vehicle and we’re on our way, I scoot towards a small shelf unit where a bottle of champagne sits in an ice bucket. It almost makes me feel bad that Lex is so unwelcoming when Viks seems so earnest.
“Here, let me take that.” Gio deftly switches the bottle I pick up for a glass that had been sitting next to it.
He pops it, the loud, sharp noise making me jump before he’s tipping the mouth of the bottle to my glass and filling it halfway.
I grab more and he fills them as well, passing them to the others.
I cut through the awkward tension still lingering with a question. “Did you ask Viks if Rylie has any news about my mother?”
Nolan leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes dark. “I did,” he says. “They’ve got a lead on where she could’ve been staying. Nothing solid yet.”
“They think she’s still alive, right?” I don’t know why I care to know if my mother is alive when she was the one who abandoned me with Morpheus Calloway of all people. Maybe it’s some deeply buried seed of loyalty to the woman who gave birth to me or maybe it’s wishful thinking.
“She was alive a few weeks ago,” Lex murmurs. “If she’s still alive now, then it doesn’t matter where she’s been hiding…” He lifts his head, his jaw flexing as he leans against the seat and stretches one arm along the top of the leather back. His eyes meet mine. “We’ll find her, baby.”
I nod once and lift my glass, draining the flute of champagne in one go. The limo hums quietly as we head toward the city where Silverwood Public’s winter formal awaits.
It’s an ironic twist of fate, too, considering that every other year Silverwood Public has held their formals and proms in their gymnasium. Not this year. This year, it’s being held at one of the city’s premier hotels and it’s all because of Morpheus.
The monster that ruled my nightmares, now a man rotting in the ground, had handed over a small fortune to the public school before he died. I can’t help but wonder if it was meant for me. Logic says that it must have been—a twisted gift wrapped in false charity.
Now, it’s little more than a piece of my old world stitched into this new one. I take in the three men sitting around the limo alongside me. Though their suits aren’t expensive or designer, each of them fills out the fabric with their wide shoulders and air of lethal beauty.
They look dark and elegant, like a trio of mafia bosses on their way to a meeting. The image makes my lips twitch. I could see them like that—three crime lords overseeing a massive territory, laying claim to cities like their own personal kingdoms. Why not? That’s basically what the rich do anyway.
The thought drifts after a moment and my mind turns back to the mission of tonight.
In Silverwood, Morpheus is rapidly being turned into something like a Roman hero.
My upper lip curls back in disgust as I recall the town’s newspaper that had gone out earlier in the week, praising a dead man for his philanthropic compassion.
Before this is all over, I plan to make sure everyone in Silverwood knows the truth.
I couldn’t ruin him in life, but I’ll make damn sure I ruin him in death.
If it makes me a little insane to play games with a dead man, then I suppose that’s what I am. The fact is, whoever is behind his murder and behind my life’s disaster, is nothing more than a pawn masquerading as a player.
Nothing Morpheus ever did was without a reason, and I can’t help but feel like this, too, was a move in a game I never agreed to play.
Not that it matters now.
He’s dead and I’m not.
I’m the one that survived. I’m already the winner.
Now, I’ll find out who killed him and who wants to kill me.