CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
TESSA
I’m immersed in a world of grandeur and duplicity. Swing dancing and dueling pianists, sultry tales of Magie Noire and chandeliers that sparkle with the reflection of both history and hope.
Ink at midnight. Piercings before parties.
La Lune Noire has been a sort of home to me for most of my adult life.
I’ve grown accustomed to the protection lurking in the shadows, the secrets whispered from the clandestine tunnels, the ugly underbelly of the crime world turned inside out to drip champagne, diamonds, and lace with an untroubled live-in-the-moment air.
Like most of the employees, I’ve been as guilty as the members of being drunk on its nectar. It oozes life and opulence, freedom from the constraints of the rigid expectations beyond these walls. One taste, and not drinking in every aspect becomes an impossible feat.
Much like the haughty warning Maddox bestowed before I dropped to my knees in his office.
“We both know I’m the taste you crave, Tess. Wrap those pouty lips around my cock, and I won’t need to hold you captive anymore. You’ll be clinging to me, insatiable, desperate for more.”
He wasn’t wrong. I am insatiable for him, for what could be, for this resort that is so much more than a job to me. But still, even within these addictive walls, I know my place. And the penthouse isn’t it. No matter how much I may want it to be now.
Maddox has been swept up in the high of us, so he’s not thinking clearly about all it would mean. For either of us.
I’m willing to bet that’s what this summons is about.
“Have a seat, Tessa.” Ryker gestures to a chair he pulled out before lifting a crystal tumbler. “Drink?”
Axel sits at the far end of the conference room table, three fingers of what looks to be whiskey in his glass and a file before him while he plays roulette on his watch.
I already sense the breakdown of the flimsy foundation Maddox and I dared to construct, but I don’t show any of that. Meekness always loses.
Making myself comfortable, I peer at the bar. It would appear my options are plentiful, but I stick with something simple. “Rum and ginger ale, if you have it.”
“Kraken okay?” he asks with a friendliness that haunts me. The calm before a storm. “We keep that on hand for Ty.”
Ty is Rena’s husband. I met him and his family at their wedding. That feels like another lifetime. Still post I’m a murderer. But Rena is a lively spirit, and she felt so removed from her owner role at the time. She taught me guitar. I pierced her. It was simpler. For the most part.
Here? Now? The intensity in this room is palpable. I almost got their brother killed. I’m sleeping with him, and I’m an employee. And I think I killed another guy today, so there’s that.
“Kraken sounds great.” I smile. It’s forced, but they probably know that. I could flip them off to keep things natural, but I go with a simple, “Thank you.”
Ryker finishes making my drink, sets it before me, and finds his own chair. Near Axel. It’s like a deposition scene in Suits, when it’s clear the little guy has already lost.
Out there, it was family, fun, and chaos.
In this room, it’s them. And me.
Mercy lobbed a stern, warning leer at her husband before he led me in here, but I’m not holding my breath that it had any effect on the trajectory of this meeting.
“You’ve had quite the day,” Axel begins. “We know the risks of what we do, but that’s the kind of call we never want to get.”
“I’m sure it was terrifying to hear Maddox was in danger like that. I can’t imagine—”
“It was terrifying to hear of you both in danger,” Ryker interrupts to correct me.
“Of course,” I reply, not sure what his point is because the energy in here is anything but kumbaya. “I appreciate that. You all take excellent care of us—the employees.”
Axel studies our exchange, ruminating on something and tapping on the file in front of him. “Speaking of your employment, do you want to know why I hired you?”
“Sure.” I nod, shocked that he even remembers that; he’s undoubtedly been in countless interviews since he took over nearly two decades ago.
He opens the file in front of him, sifting through some papers. “We do recon on anyone who applies, but those who are persistent—multiple applications, urgency to be seen, et cetera—get a full background check. As you can imagine, it’s not far-fetched to have an enemy scheme to be on the inside.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.” I sip my drink, wondering where this is headed. Do they think I’m a spy?
“Your file caught my eye. Good family. Strong-willed. Persistent. Impressive art portfolio.” He casts a grin at me, as if we share a secret.
“That wasn’t enough to take a chance on you though.
We passed up an applicant list a mile long, full of relatives of our hardworking employees, who could be vouched for. ”
Unsure how to respond, I simply bob my head so it’s clear I’m following along.
“It was this.” Axel waves a slip of paper in front of him. “Theft of a classic car at the age of fifteen.”
My stomach plummets. Those records are sealed. I was charged as a minor, and it was messy. I guess it’s not surprising the Noires could obtain sealed records, but the motivation is fuzzy.
“I’m not following. You hired me because I had stolen a vintage convertible at the age of fifteen and took it for a joy ride?”
Ryker chuckles, rolling his dice around his palm. “The visual alone is impressive, but that’s not the direction Axel was going with it.”
“You were offered immunity.” Axel stares at me expectantly, but I don’t permit my face to betray anything. “All you had to do was give the others up. But you refused.”
“Yes,” I admit because it’s apparent he’s done his research.
Ryker leans back in his chair, scrutinizing me through a laden pause. “Why did you steal that car?”
The reason is complicated and one I pondered for months afterward—or years really. But that night, it’d felt simple.
I’m not going to divulge anything I don’t have to though, so I deflect. “You seem to know everything that happened, Axel. Why don’t you share why I stole that car?”
He chuckles, glancing at Ryker for a beat before returning to me.
“Because your sister was about to get caught sleeping with a teacher and you knew it would fuck up her future. So, you stole a car as a diversion, but you got caught quickly. The prosecution tried to dangle freedom in front of you, but you wouldn’t take it. ”
He’s circling very close to the whole truth. Not all of that could have come from those sealed records.
Eden went to a party at a friend’s house.
She never went anywhere fun. It was late spring of her senior year, so my parents were fine with it.
I had been bored to tears that night, so I stowed away in her back seat.
After she went into the house, I climbed out.
A couple of girls I wasn’t really allowed to hang out with were there.
We wandered around the neighborhood and stumbled upon a lot with a small warehouse that was used to store classic cars. I loved old cars.
The rolling door was halfway open, and a few were parked outside.
There was a 1965 Alfa Romeo Spider with the top down.
Bluish gray. Mint condition. So pretty. We prowled around it and found the keys lying on the passenger seat.
They’d likely fallen from the visor. One of the girls suggested we take it.
I blew her off. I was adventurous, but not interested in grand theft auto.
She taunted me for several minutes, attempting to bully me into it, but all that did was make me think less of her.
If there’d been any temptation to take that car, it was gone.
Eventually, we walked back toward the party, and passing by a house a few doors down from it, the other girl noticed something else.
Mr. Stewart, the calculus teacher, was inside.
Making out with someone. I knew exactly who he was with when my eyes found them through the window.
My heart accelerated so fast that I could feel it everywhere.
In an instant, my whole world was flipped upside down.
The kids with me started to speculate who it could be and wanted to creep closer.
I told them to stay put and I’d look. I went right up to that window until I was confident my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
Eden was naked and sprawled out beneath him.
She shook her head at me, a plea not to rat her out.
But I was pissed. Mostly at the teacher. At her too though. I banged on the window so he knew he’d been caught. He jumped off Eden and glared, both of them bare before me.
That’s when I heard the girls behind me.
“I think it’s a student,” one of them said.
I didn’t think much about it. I just made a decision.
“You spent almost four months in juvenile detention,” Axel probes. “Why?”
I only intended to take a spin around the adjacent neighborhood and return the car.
Just enough time for Eden to get back to the party.
But in my anger, I drove past the house, taunting Mr. Stewart, which led to him calling the police.
I told the girls to jump out when I knew we’d been caught.
They had records, and I didn’t. Squealing would’ve made it all for nothing.
The teacher would have paid, but Eden would have too.
Her whole identity was tied to being the golden child.
None of it mattered in the end. He broke things off with her. We became known as the family with the bad seed. The scandal of me being arrested far upstaged her graduation. And Eden blamed me.
But I don’t say any of that or tell them the whole story. “I weighed my options and did what made sense … to me. I was fifteen. Wisdom was a long way off.”
“Explain,” Axel demands, calm and chilling. “There were others involved. You could have walked away free.”