CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
SEVEN
SEVEN: You okay if we move the dinner to another night? Something came up and I can’t go. We’ll meet soon to talk about protection for Mercedes’s sister-in-law, I promise.
I fired off the text to Trace then threw my phone on my bed. Fuck. There was no way in hell Jordan would go to Eli’s with anyone but me at her side. I wouldn’t allow it. So I didn’t tell Chico shit. Instead, I focused on getting ready for this unexpected adventure.
I cleaned my guns. I loaded them. I got dressed in the standard black-on-black attire. I grabbed a bite to eat from the fridge before giving myself a once-over in the long mirror in the hallway. Then I knocked on Jordan’s door.
Silence.
I knocked louder. “Jordan?”
No response.
She was probably still mad. She’d been right—I was acting weird. Only because I was still committed to proving to myself I wasn’t in love with her. We needed space, both physical and emotional, for everyone’s best interests. So why did it sting so much to put space between us?
I knocked again, and when there was no answer this time, I tried the knob. Unlocked.
The door swung open and I stepped inside, assessing her dark room. The bedcovers were rumpled but made, like she’d sat on the side of the bed. Everything looked in order. But there wasn’t a trace of Jordan. I jogged to the hallway.
“Jordan?” My voice sounded like a bellow. She wasn’t in the bathroom. Not in the corners of the living room. She wasn’t in the fucking apartment. I swore to myself, whipping out my phone.
I called her first. It clicked over to voicemail almost immediately. Probably ignoring me.
I knew who to call next. Chico. If she wasn’t here, it was because she’d snuck out early. I prayed she’d called Chico to tag along with her. If she’d gone there on her own, there was no telling what would happen—or if she’d even give me an address to send some protection her way. My heart hammered in my chest as the phone rang.
Just when I thought it was going to voicemail, Chico answered.
“Hello?”
“Are you with Jordan?” There was no time for niceties. Not when my tension was skyrocketing by the second.
“Yeah,” he said brightly. “She’s right here with me. She said you’d assigned me to help out with an event she’s going to tonight—”
“Do not let her get out of the fucking car until I get there,” I snapped. “Send me the address and hold her until I get there.”
“Okay…” Chico sounded unsure.
“Send me the address. And remember—she stays in the car.”
I hung up, a string of curse words escaping my lips as I called both Legs and Harry—whichever one was carrying Jordan, I’d tell them to start picking detours. And whoever was free needed to come get me ASAP.
Once both drivers were up to speed, I checked the address that Chico had sent through. Plugging it into the GPS, it looked like a brownstone in SoHo. Not terribly far away. It might almost be faster to run there than wait for Legs to come. I went to the lobby, watching the blue dot of Legs’ car get closer to my apartment building. Was he coming fast enough? Or should I start sprinting? If I sprinted, I’d save about ten minutes—but I’d arrive a sweaty mess. And running while packing wasn’t the easiest.
Fuck it. Run anyway.
I checked Legs’ location one last time. He was a block away. I pushed out onto the sidewalk, peering down the street to spot him. Instead of running to SoHo, I’d at least run to the car. I met Legs in the middle of traffic, weaving between cars as I navigated to him. I slipped into the sedan while he looked on, bewildered.
“Jesus, ya in a hurry?”
“Sort of an emergency situation.” I checked my phone. I could see that Harry was about three blocks from Eli’s house. I typed out a quick text to Harry.
SEVEN: Make another lap around the block. I need you to stall. Almost there.
“All right,” Legs said, flipping on his blinker to merge into a different lane. “Where we going?”
I gave him the address, compulsively checking my phone as we crept closer. No word from Harry, but Chico occasionally updated me on their distance. Two blocks away. Pulling toward the house. When his message read Pulling off to park, I had the brownstone in sight. But Harry parked first. I saw a flash of blue sequins as Legs pulled up. I had my door open before he’d even slowed to a stop, hitting the ground running.
Jordan was halfway to the door when I spotted her, Chico close behind. I quickened my pace, easily doubling her stride.
“Jordan,” I barked.
She slowed to a stop about five feet from the door. A sky-blue sequined dress hugged her in all the right ways; her calves shimmered and flexed as she walked in black heels. If I weren’t determined to get her in line, I’d take a moment to let her know how stunning she looked. She turned slightly toward me, her mouth a thin line.
“Chico, you can wait for me in the car,” I told him. Once he’d slid into the backseat, I turned my attention to Jordan. “Do you really fucking think you’re going in there without me?” I filled the space in front of her, using every inch of my height. She didn’t even flinch.
“I waited, didn’t I?”
“You snuck off without saying a goddamn word.”
“You said Chico would be my tagalong,” she retorted.
“That was before I knew your fucking plan,” I spat. “You’re not going in there with anyone but me. Got it?”
Her brow lifted. “Oh. So you do care.”
“I do. Deeply. When did you get the impression that I didn’t?”
She didn’t say anything to that, but she held my gaze, the challenge still in the air.
“I need to go talk to Chico. Wait for me here. Do not move a fucking inch. We’ll go in together.”
“Fine.” She crossed her arms, her gaze drifting away.
I headed for the car she’d come in, pulling open the back door. “Hey.” I nodded at Harry too. “Can we talk out here?”
Chico slid out of the back seat. I shut the door behind him, frazzled from the way this situation had ballooned. I was now consuming all of the Fairchild personal driver resources, which meant I’d need to add an additional driver to my new hire roster. And now I had to cover my ass yet again with the new hire.
“Sorry for the confusion today. Can you stick around here? I’ll be accompanying her in, since this is a high-risk situation that she informed me of at the last-possible second. But I’d like you to be on hand in case anything escalates.”
“Of course.” Chico straightened his back, his curious gaze flitting over my shoulder to the brownstone.
“And we don’t need to mention this to the Fairchilds, if it comes up,” I added. I planned on sharing a similar note with Harry and Legs. They didn’t need to know that their little sister was heading to Eli’s brownstone. Even if they didn’t put two and two together, I didn’t want anything to jeopardize the blossoming relationship between Jordan and her brothers.
“Got it,” Chico said, crossing his hands behind his back.
“Great. I’ll let you know if we need you.” I returned to Jordan, who looked bored as she watched me approach.
“All set, Daddy?” she deadpanned.
“Don’t call me Daddy,” I warned.
“Well you’re certainly acting like one.”
“Whatever. Let’s get this over with.” I gestured toward the front door. Each step closer to Eli’s party my stomach clenched harder. “After you, brat.”
“There’s the sassy Seven I remember,” she murmured. We strode up to the front door in step. I smoothed down the front of my shirt as we approached the door.
“Anything else you need to tell me in advance of tonight’s plans?” I snapped.
“He knows this is work. I told him I’m not his girlfriend, and that I’d be bringing a guard. That’s it.”
“How long do you plan on staying?”
“Until it’s time to leave.” She sniffed, adjusting the corset top of her dress. “Can we go in now and get this over with?”
“What’s the safe word?”
She lifted a brow, looking over at me with amusement. “Oh, you want that now?”
“Don’t be stupid,” I warned her. “We need a word if you need to escape, or if something goes wrong. It can be whatever you want. Just pick one.”
“Fine.” She drew a sharp breath, looking up to the sky. “Greek.”
“Funny.”
“It was the first thing I thought of,” she hissed, her nostrils flaring, turning slightly my way. Of course her little nickname for me had to crop up again. Just as I opened my mouth to mention the Greek god reference, the door swung open.
Eli stood before us, smirking in a sky-blue seersucker. A marbled foyer stretched behind him, dotted with enormous vases, sprawling palms, and the rushof an indoor waterfall.
“Look at you.” He punctuated each word with a hard ending, his gaze sliding over Jordan from top to bottom.
“We match,” Jordan said with a little laugh.
“This your bodyguard?” Eli asked without looking my way.
“Sure is,” she said.
His gaze slid to me. “God, don’t you just love your fucking job? Following this tight little body around everywhere?”
Something dark and liquid slid through me, causing my fists to clench behind my back, where I had my wrists crossed. Jordan giggled, swatting at his chest. If she took any issue with his disgusting tone, she didn’t show it.
“Oh, stop,” she teased. “It’s a boring job, I promise.”
“Well come on in, you two. The party’s just getting started.” Eli offered his arm, which Jordan happily took. He led her inside and I followed, but he stopped short in the foyer. Where we stood was empty, but the sounds of a party wafted in from deeper in the house. The clamor of voices; the occasional laugh; a champagne cork popping.
Once the door swung shut behind me, Eli lifted a finger and said, “One quick thing. You”—he pointed at me—“can hang around but not at her side. Stick to the sidelines where you belong. And before we go any further, I’ll need you both to sign an NDA.”
A man appeared from one of the hallways as if on cue. I couldn’t tell if he was hired help or just a friend with impeccable timing. He produced a clipboard that held a small stack of papers and got a pen ready for us.
Jordan glanced my way. “What’s an NDA?”
“A non-disclosure agreement. Listen, you might not get it yet, but I have powerful friends, gorgeous.” His slick grin was borderline sociopathic, but the words that came out of his mouth grated on me like sandpaper against a wound. “My guests like to know they can expect privacy. Who knows who you’ll meet here tonight? The mayor, a former president, some senators, an actor or five; they all come to my parties.”
“Sounds fine by me,” she said brightly, reaching for the pen.
When her gaze lingered over the text, Eli rushed to add, “It’s all standard stuff, gorgeous. I promise. Whatever you see or hear tonight, you didn’t see or hear tonight.”
I could tell Jordan was rushing to read more. He jostled the clipboard in front of her.
“Come on. We’ve got to make the rounds. Chop chop.”
She scribbled on the contract, then handed the pen to me.
“Does he speak English?” Eli asked Jordan about me, without even looking my way as I took the clipboard from the helper, flipping to the next page.
“Of course he does, he’s just very focused on work. That’s why I hired him.” Jordan’s voice faded slightly as they started for the party. I noticed Jordan had signed her stage name, Sapphire, in near chicken scratch. I made my signature as close to a straight line as possible and gave the clipboard back to the assistant.
Eli and Jordan were halfway into the front room when I caught up with them. Through the open French doors, a bustling party was underway. Guests littered the room, sitting in clusters on large, overstuffed couches or chatting in corners with heads bowed together. The vibe was refined debauchery, like a modern, high-class opium den—mostly men in suit coats or business casual attire, and everyone held cocktail glasses or tumblers. The small handful of women in attendance clustered together, wearing skimpy dresses or form-fitting bodysuits. On the coffee table nearby, a long mirror was dusted with white, remnants of lines visible. Eli led us through the front room and into the next, toward two men standing in the corner, beginning his rounds with Jordan as promised.
I clung to the nearest wall, scoping out the room. This looked like a boys club, though I hadn’t spotted any celebrities or senators yet. Servers flitted around, carrying trays full of empty glasses or fresh drinks. Once, it looked like a server carried smeared drug trays, though I wasn’t sure if they were going for a wash or a refill.
Jordan shone like a diamond on Eli’s arm, laughing as she interacted with the other guests, swatting Eli’s arm, playing the sweetest, coyest little flirt. If I could relax even slightly, I’d have joked that she deserved an Emmy. But with Eli’s arm wrapped around her, his hand creeping closer to her ass, or draping along her shoulders, I found it hard to do anything but fume.
Eli paraded her around like a new toy. Everyone seemed taken by Jordan; I caught plenty of laughter and enthusiastic conversation as they made the rounds. When they slipped into another room, I followed, scoping out the new scene. Lather, rinse, repeat.
We’d made it through the entire first floor, and Jordan had already drunk a full glass of white wine—poured directly from a newly opened bottle—when an imposing older man came into the great room, surrounded by a few underlings. He scanned the room distractedly, leaning closer to a companion to whisper something, who then disappeared a moment later. Eli noticed the man, shouting out a whooping greeting.
“Allan! My god, you’re finally here!” He headed toward Allan, finally dropping his arm from its position around Jordan’s waist. Eli and Allan conferred briefly, too far away for me to hear. Chatting, laughing people filed between me and the small group. The longer this party went on, the louder it got. Eli nodded severely, clapped Allan on the back, then made introduced him to Jordan. A moment later, Allan and his small entourage were gone.
Eli led Jordan to the enormous blue velvet couch in the middle of the room. They sank onto the cushions, joining a few other men who’d been sitting already. All eyes turned toward Eli as he launched into another self-important monologue. How the fuck had Cora been married to this douchebag? I spent some time trying to mentally unravel the logistics of such an unlikely marriage. No way had Cora married him for his good-naturedness or humility. I couldn’t make it make sense.
Eli’s arrogant voice carried through the room, above the din of conversation and music, so grating I couldn’t tune it out. I could tell Eli lapped up the attention of his guests like a starving kitten. I’d wanted to punch him from the first second I’d seen him and would die happy if I never saw him again.
Please, Jordan, let this be our last time at Eli’s.
The crowd in this spacious living room was constantly shifting, but the audience that Eli entertained on the blue velvet couch didn’t change. Their heads seemed to grow closer together, the conversation lowering, as though they didn’t want anyone to overhear.
Jordan suddenly looked away, searching the room for me. Relief flooded her eyes when she finally spotted me along the far side of the room.
Her eyes widened and she nudged her head to indicate I come closer. Whatever it was, I could tell it was urgent.
Wordlessly I relocated to the wall on the other side of the couch, taking the shortest route—right past the couch itself. I paused behind Jordan, dipping down to whisper in her ear.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Listen.” Her voice came out an urgent hiss. I remained at her side, acting as though I was telling her something, while I shifted my attention to the conversation swelling around her.
“No, man, it came through completely because of Allan’s connections,” Eli was saying.
“And the charges stuck?” someone in the group of about six asked.
“Their trial starts this fall.” The smugness emanating from him made my fists curl behind the back of the couch. “Sounds to me like they stuck.”
A couple of the other guys chuckled, starting a slow clap. “Too fucking smooth, man.”
“I told you I’d make sure those Fairchild assholes were out of here,” Eli said, leaning forward to grab his tumbler off the large coffee table. When he sat back, he seemed to notice me, jerking to look at me. “What’s going on here?”
“Mandatory check-in,” I said gruffly, straightening. I smoothed the front of my shirt as Eli’s words formed a tornado in my head. …Make sure these Fairchild assholes were out of here. I didn’t have much to go on, but it seemed to involve the brothers. Unless there was another group of brothers he dealt with named the Fairchilds who faced a looming trial. Maybe Jordan had heard more of use than I had.
“Do you know who we’ve been talking about?” I heard Eli ask Jordan as I walked away.
Jordan reached onto the snack tray on the coffee table, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “I wasn’t even listening. Fairmont somebody?”
One of the servers approached with a coke plate, offering it to Eli. He pulled out a personal scoop from his pocket and took a hard sniff at the plate. Eli smirked, satisfied, and leaned back onto the couch as the server made the offer to the rest of the people chatting with Eli. “Anyway, where were we?”
“Talking about how hard you fucked the Fairchilds,” said one of his guests in an armchair facing the velvet couch. He looked like an investment banker from a reality TV show. At the very least, having relocated to along the other wall, the thumping bass from the other room wasn’t angled directly at the side of my face. I could hear more snippets of their conversation.
Eli let out an exaggerated groan that bordered on orgasmic. “I can’t wait until the Fuckchilds are behind bars where they belong. Ten years is what they’re up for. If you ask me, a decade won’t be long enough.”
I clenched my teeth just in case any hint of a reaction threatened to spill out. I didn’t dare slide my gaze to Jordan, for fear her face would show the same shock and horror I felt.
“So, are you taking requests?” A man in a taupe seersucker sport coat lifted his tumbler to his lips. I wondered if the man always dressed as though he was Eli’s twin demon spawn. “I know a few guys I’d like to get out of my sight.”
Eli laughed raucously. “Depends on where you want them to go. And whether my network reaches that far. But all signs point to yes.”
Their conversation drifted into chatter about a political campaign. Apparently their close friend was running for senator somewhere, and another friend had convinced the right people to secure the votes needed for his election. Jordan been sitting quietly, popping strawberries while refusing the occasional coke plate that cycled around, when Eli suddenly turned to her, saying something in a low voice. Jordan blinked demurely, swallowing her berry before I saw her shrug and say “Sure.”
Only Eli and Jordan stood. He began to lead her out of the room, and I followed a few paces behind. We reached the foyer, the sounds of music and conversation fading slightly. Their footsteps thumped up the steps of the wide staircase.
“I’ve been dying to get you on my own.” Eli’s arm was draped around her shoulders.
“Well, I’ve been waiting for you to get me on my own,” she answered with a hollow laugh.
Eli rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, heading for a door. He pushed it open, gesturing for Jordan to enter. She sauntered inside what looked like a dimly lit bedroom.
I surged forward, inserting myself into the doorway. “I’ll need to be inside as well,” I said.
He swung his coke-drunk gaze my way. A smile curled at the corners of his mouth, and when he spoke, the tang of whiskey reached me. “Oh, you like to watch, huh?”
My stomach turned to acid and I gritted my teeth, reminding myself to keep my fist out of his face. No matter how good it might feel. “This was part of the arrangement.”
“We’re just gonna have some quiet time,” he insisted.
“Hey, boys, I need to go to the bathroom, anyway.” Jordan suddenly burst back through the doorway, grabbing my hand. “Eli, I’ll have a word with him.” She started dragging me away down the hallway before she called over her shoulder, “Where’s the bathroom up here?”
“Third door on the right,” Eli said behind us.
Jordan led me to the bathroom, pulled me inside, and slammed the door shut behind me. We stood watching each other for a while. I didn’t even know where to begin.
“Did you…” Her wide eyes told me she was referring to what we’d overheard downstairs.
I nodded. “But we can’t talk about it right now.”
She went to the vanity, arranging her hair in the mirror. “I know.”
I approached her from behind, meeting her gaze in the reflection. “You’re not going in there with him alone.”
She huffed, turning to face me. Our bodies nearly touched, and I had a hard time keeping my frustration at bay.
“But what if he says something else in there? I need to hear it.”
“Let me rephrase. You’re not fucking going in there alone with him,” I repeated. “He’s so high, my being there won’t stop him from talking if he’s going to talk.”
“He’s too drunk to try anything. Besides, you’ll be right outside,” she said softly, finally tipping her head back to meet my gaze.
I dipped my chin, unable to resist making contact. I touched her arms, lifting her butt onto the countertop so that our faces were closer to the same level. “You’re not going in there alone, because you don’t go anywhere without me. You’re mine. Or have you forgotten?”
She tipped her head, curiosity swarming her gaze.
“Or do I need to make cum drip down your leg again to remind you?” I asked, dipping even closer. Our lips were inches apart now.
Her throat bobbed. “I didn’t know you still felt that way.”
The innocence and vulnerability behind her words sliced me in two. I was lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. The only thing I truly knew was that I wanted Jordan—consequences be damned.
“How could I not?” I grabbed her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lifting her head until our lips connected. A soft, sweet, hungry kiss erupted. But she cut it short.
“Nothing sexual is going to happen with him,” she insisted. “You know this. This place is like the club for me. It’s work. I’m going to dance for him in there. He knows that, and we agreed to that. Sex isn’t just off the table with him—it’s off the table with every man who isn’t you. And it’s been that way since the day I met you.”
My heart raced faster even though her words had a calming effect deep inside. Probably because they spoke to the greater truth that I was desperate to ignore.
You’ve fallen in love with her. What happens now?
“Just let me keep my eyes on you,” I told her. “It’s not that I think you’re going to do anything with him. I don’t trust him, even if I’m right outside the door.”
She couldn’t hear how fast my heart raced, couldn’t see how tense my shoulders were or how hard my stomach twisted.
She nibbled on her bottom lip and then nodded. “Okay. I’ll let him know you have to come in.”
Letting her out of my sight in a place like this felt like throwing her to the wolves. She thought he was too drunk to try anything, but I knew the types of terror that lurked in the shadows. The types of things that could ruin a life, even when prepared and ready. I was in too deep to let her go like that. And God knew I couldn’t suffer another heartbreak like the one I’d endured eight years ago.
There was no way I’d survive that a second time.
But the deeper I went with Jordan, the less sure I was that I’d survive falling in love a second time either.