2. Blakely
The winein my glass shimmers as I swirl it, and the Eiffel Tower dominates the view from my office window with its lights. The office is quiet and nearly empty at this time of the night, except for Emilie, who is still working at her desk. I’m usually the first one to arrive and often the last to leave. She doesn’t leave the office until I’m gone, which is usually after 10 p.m.
I don’t ask her to stay that late. I’m not that kind of boss, but she feels obligated somehow.
Do I feel guilty about it? Of course, I am not heartless.
I started my position as a criminal defence attorney in Paris eight years ago, and she has been working as my legal assistant for six. She has been one of my closest friends since I left Scotland. She did a pretty great job since Bailey was one of the people I left behind. Bailey knows why I had to. My twin knows everything about me. Or she used to. Some truths are better kept in the shadows, and I don’t want her to know that everything I fought for, the justice I swore to, was built on lies.
I am lost in my thoughts when the buzzing of my phone snaps me back to reality, and I groan when I see who is calling.
“Reed speaking.” The sound of someone inhaling on the other end of the line fills my ears. The unmistakable sound of a cigar wafting through the phone.
“Blakely.” I hear Preston”s raspy voice. “We have a problem.” I remove my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Don’t we always have a problem?” I sneak a quick peek towards Emilie’s desk, and she immediately picks up on my silent plea, walking over to my desk.
A few years back, I put some of the best lawyers on my team to focus exclusively on Caleb Preston and what he might need for his business.
Being a powerful businessman, many people have tried to take him down, and that’s when my team entered the game.
If he”s calling, it can”t be anything good. He has little faith in my team”s abilities. I don”t understand why. They’re good. So he usually calls me when it’s a personal matter or when he needs something done right, as he likes to say.
“It’s Aidan.” I feel my chest tighten, and my breathing becomes shallow and rapid at the mention of his name.
I made it clear that I would only work with him if he agreed to never mention his son’s name in my presence.
Time may have passed, but the feeling of my heart breaking into pieces remains. I can still see myself on my bathroom floor, puking everything I had. I can still see him betraying me in the worst way possible.
Even after eight years, the image is so vivid that it will be permanently etched in my mind.
It has been two months since Aidan told me Aisla was dead.
I still can’t believe it. I don’t know what happened. He and my brother refused to give me any details. Just that she was gone. Like that.
Ever since that day, he has been aloof and detached.
I understand his pain. I really do. I share it. Aisla was like a sister to me.
The agony that I’m feeling can’t be described, and his distance makes it worse.
So I texted him to let him know I was on my way to his place. He still hasn’t replied yet. But I need him to tell me everything will be okay. That we will grieve together.
I stand at the door, pressing the doorbell again and again, but there’s no sound except for the rustling of leaves in the wind. When I try the knob, it turns easily, and the door swings open.
“Aidan,” I call, my voice breaking the eerie silence.
No answer. That’s weird. He never leaves his door open for anyone to come inside. Something is not right.
“Aidan.” Walking towards the bedroom, I raise my voice, hoping for a response. “Are you here?”
That’s when I hear it. Moans. His moans.
No. That can’t be happening.
The sound of the moans growing louder makes me crack the door open.
I’m frozen in place, unable to take my eyes off what lay before me.
“What the fuck?” My throat burns as I let out a guttural yell, tears streaming down my face.
He looks at me completely unbothered, his green eyes almost black, a bottle of whisky in his hand, and a bimbo on her knees in front of him.
This can’t be happening.
“What are you doing here?” He seems more annoyed by my presence than the slut on her knees with his trousers open.
“WHAT AM I DOING HERE? Are you for fucking real?” My tears fall like acid on my skin as my heart shatters into a thousand pieces, leaving me feeling raw and exposed.
“You should leave. Now. I’m quite busy, as you can tell.” He takes another sip of the bottle.
Through my sobs, I manage to ask, my voice barely above a whisper, “What’s happening to you?”
“Nothing is happening to me. This is the real me. Your arse was fine for the time being, but I found a mouth more interesting,” he says, grabbing the blonde’s hair. “We’re done. You should leave now.”
I can’t breathe. It’s just a bad dream. It has to be.
I’m sprinting away from his place, my whole body trembling.
I’m going to be sick.
The nausea is unbearable, and I fall to my knees near the bushes, retching and vomiting until sweat mixes with my tears.
I need to leave. I need to get as far away from here as I can.
I take a deep breath, trying to shake off this bad memory, and ask, “What about Aidan?”
He sighs as I envision him rubbing his face anxiously. “He’s in prison.”
“What did he do this time?” I’m trying to keep my composure, but the anger I’ve harboured for years is starting to show. “Murder? Drugs? Weaponry?”
“No, this was a setup. These fucking Snakes tried to make him take the blame for their shit.” I can hear the fatigue in his voice.
“The fact that he is currently in prison leads me to believe that they did not make an attempt.” My voice drips with sarcasm. “And then, what are you implying when you say ‘their shit’?”
“My intuition is telling me they have something planned for us, or maybe even worse, there could be a mole who has infiltrated our group.”
The Snakes have been after the Prestons for a long time now. Being a well-known gang in the country, they were furious when Caleb decided to end his involvement in drug dealing, which put them in a difficult position. And probably in debt.
“And what do you want from me?” Knowing what’s coming, I close my eyes, trying to prepare myself for his answer. I can feel the sympathy emanating from Em’s eyes as she looks at me.
“I need you to get him out of this hole.”
“Why don’t you ask someone I hired for you?” I ask with a tinge of irritation.
“This is a private family matter. I don’t trust anyone more than you to pull him out and to find what the Snakes are up to.”
“I am not family. You might consider Scott as a second son to you, but I’m not.” I close my eyes as I massage my temples, trying to relieve the pulsing ache. The crease between Em’s brows deepens as her eyes grow tense, revealing her worry for me. Ever since I arrived in France, my migraines have become more severe, causing me to black out on occasion. I give her a reassuring smile, letting her know that I’m okay.
“Oh, but you are. While I won’t get involved in your relationship with my son, I do think it’s necessary for you to talk things out. Blakely, even if you don’t want it, I consider you part of our family, and we always take care of our own. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t trust anyone else to take care of that.”
Damn him. I take a deep breath, trying to calm the knot in my stomach that formed at the thought of facing Aidan again.
“Fine, but you owe me big time.” I can hear the relief in his voice as he lets out a deep sigh through the phone. “But I have one condition. Don’t tell him I will be the one to put him out of his misery.”
My head is pounding with the weight of all the thoughts swirling around in my brain.
“Send me all the documents you have in your possession, and I’ll do what I can to pull him out. But before that, I need you to tell me exactly what happened, when, and how.”
We spent the next hours trying to understand what the fuck happened. Based on what Caleb told us, Aidan was at his club when the cops showed up. They found drugs and weapons hidden in the back room. Not an arsenal, just enough to get him incarcerated.
Now, let me get this straight. I know the shady stuff my brother and his stupid friend do, but drugs are definitely not one of them. As for the gun found behind one of the bathrooms, it is no surprise to say that they found blood stains on it. They are not stupid enough to leave any evidence of their guns or crimes, per se, in their own bar.
Caleb seems to think that the Snakes are behind that. They have been trying to bring The Twelve down for a while now, but they are pretty slippery with their attempts so far, and this one is no exception.
In the underground, The Twelve Olympians reign as one of the most powerful societies. Its members, bound by an oath, exert their influence and play important roles in the realms of politics and business.
Lots of people want to see them taken down. The thing is, they will need more than this. Sure, they have plenty of enemies but also plenty of allies. Some that would never even cross your mind.
The Twelve. Twelve families reigning in the underworld filled with drugs, weapons, murder, and lawlessness.
With a deep sigh, I rub the back of my neck, trying to alleviate the pain that has been building up all day. Exhaustion is evident in Emilie’s eyes as she looks at me. I can’t help but feel guilty for keeping her here so late with me.
She yawns before talking. “Okay, we’re done for tonight. We’ve been checking all we’ve got for hours now, and it’s two in the morning. There’s nothing more we can do until we have the police report. Which should arrive sometime this morning.”
I know she is right. My body is so tired and worn out that I doubt I’ll be of any use in my current state.
“So now, move your sweet arse, and let’s go.” She moans, “My bed is calling me.”
It took two months after I arrived here for Emilie and I to move in together. And it has been one of the best decisions I’ve made since I moved. I know a lot of people don’t like to live with a housemate, but I miss my twin. I miss the feeling of comfort that came with our late-night talks. I miss watching ridiculous rom-coms at one in the morning with a bag full of popcorn. I miss the way she could read my thoughts without me having to explain them. I simply miss her. Having Emilie with me reminds me of who I was before life got complicated.
“Okay, Miss Drama Queen, let me close all that, and we can go.” I can’t help but chuckle and shake my head as she rushes to get her bag, almost breaking into a run.
“Oh, and I booked a flight for tomorrow evening. Well, in a few hours now. I wanted to ensure that all loose ends were tied up, just in case our absence was prolonged,” she yells from her desk.
Looking at her, I furrow my brow in confusion. “We?”
“Obviously. You didn’t think I would let you face that by yourself, did you? Because if you did, you don’t really know me well. There’s no way I’ll let you go back without any support after all these years. Aye, you have Bailey, and I love her, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t be your bestie otherwise.”
I chuckle, “Don’t let Bailey hear you say you’re my bestie. She could have your head on a platter. That comes with the twin bond territory.”
She waves her hand at me.
“It’s not the same, and you know it. Now move your sexy arse from this office. Mama needs her beauty sleep.”
With each step, the sound from the thud of my shoes hitting the airport floor grows louder, and sweat starts dripping down my lower back.
It’s only April. Why is it so hot?
With each passing moment, the buzzing in my head intensifies, and my breathing becomes more and more shallow, my fingers feeling numb.
Am I having a panic attack? Shit.
As we walk through the terminal, I turn around to face Emilie, but she knows me way too well.
“You’re fine. Take a deep breath. I’ll be with you all the way through.” She sounds sure of her words. Good for her because I think I’m starting to lose my shit. I’m not afraid of flying. I’m used to it by now, but even though I am super excited to see my sister and brother, I’m not ready to face him. It’s too soon.
How many years do you need to get over it? Get a grip, girl!
I take a deep breath and try to gain back my composure. Fail of the year.
“Okay, so I didn’t book a hotel. Bailey said we could stay at her place. Orrrr, Scott also pro?—”
“No. Absolutely not,” I cut her off. “Even though his place is huge, they still live together, and there’s no way I’m sleeping under the same roof as him once he’s out of prison,” I tell her, looking into her eyes, hoping she understands. “I don’t plan on staying there for long because it’s simply a ‘get him out of prison, go back home’ situation.”
“Okayyyy.” She’s completely unconvinced by what I’m saying. And not for nothing.
The police report is still under wraps, leaving us in the dark about any other evidence they have against him. The question that I have is: ‘How many corrupt cops played a role in his arrest?’ I guess I’ll find out soon enough.