CHAPTER ELEVEN
Victoria
The outing with Joey left me craving more normalcy. After the attack at the club and the events that followed, I wanted nothing more than to return to my routine. I needed to get back to the center. I'd been absent since the gala fire. It was the most time I'd spent away from my work at the youth center since I was a teenager, refusing to go as an act of rebellion. My soul needed the work I did for the youth as much as my normal routine.
I'd nearly reached the front door when Rich spoke behind me.
"Where do you think you're going, Princess?" He asked.
"Out." I replied, scowling at him over my shoulder.
"You know the rules, Princess." He replied, closing the distance between us and grabbing my arm.
Jerking my arm free, I narrowed my eyes at him. "I followed your rules for a week and nearly got shot. You'll excuse me if I'd rather return to my life. Your rules be damned."
Craig strolled into the foyer as Rich opened his mouth to respond.
"What's going on?" He asked, his eyes flitting between the two of us.
"I'm going out and Dad is being a dick about it." I scoffed, causing Craig to raise his eyebrows.
"Your father left us in charge, Princess." Rich glowered. "That means you play by my rules, and I've said you're not going anywhere."
"I don't give a fuck about the agreement you made with my father. I am not going to stay cooped up in the manor and ignore my responsibilities. I'm going to the center and you can't stop me."
"I'm actually headed to the center myself," Craig interjected. "The equipment I ordered to upgrade the security system there arrived yesterday, and I promised Mrs. McMillan I'd come by and get it all installed today. I'm happy to take Victoria along with me if she has work to do there."
"Thank you." I said, smiling softly at Craig.
Rich scrubbed his hands over his face and groaned. "Fine, but I expect you to keep an eye on her."
"Always." Craig smirked before stepping in front of Rich and offering me his elbow.
Slipping my hand into Craig's arm, I turned toward Rich and stuck my tongue out. It was childish, but I was beyond acting mature over his insistence that I follow his rules as if I were a child. Craig chuckled, noticing the action as he led me to the garage.
"I'm not sure antagonizing him is the way to get what you want." He laughed. "But it is pretty entertaining."
I shrugged in response as I followed him to a black Mercedes sedan. He helped me into the front passenger seat before moving around the vehicle and sliding into the driver's seat. So far, I'd only seen Az's car, a sleek red Porsche that seemed to fit the man's ego. Joey and I had used one of my father's drivers for our previous outing. Craig's vehicle was a lesson in contrasts. The Mercedes seemed more suited to a high-society housewife than the heavily tattooed man beside me.
"I wouldn't have pictured you driving something like this," I said as Craig pulled away from the manor.
"Not all of us enjoy being flashy." He smirked, not taking his eyes off the road. "I spend a lot of time working in south side. It doesn't make sense to draw any more attention than necessary. This baby is the perfect blend of luxury and inconspicuous."
We drove in silence the rest of the way to the youth center. Outside of meals, I hadn't spent much time with Craig, and I realized how little I knew about any of the guys. Rich was clearly in control of things, and Az was an asshole, but Craig was a mystery. My time with Joey had me at war with myself. Part of me was beginning to want to know these men even though they were responsible for the second worst night of my life.
Craig pulled the car into an empty parking spot in the back of the youth center before climbing from the driver's seat and moving to help me out.
"We should probably go in around the front, so Mrs. McMillan sees us coming." He spoke.
I gave him a tight nod and gestured for him to lead the way. The glass-paneled double doors of the center stood propped open when we arrived around the front. Mrs. McMillan stood just inside, directing children through the lobby and into the gymnasium. Her weathered face lit up when she caught sight of us.
"You don't know how happy my old heart is to see one of my former kids." She beamed, reaching up to pat Craig's cheek when we stopped in front of her. "I was expecting you sooner after I called you about the attempted break-in."
"Someone tried to break into the center?" I asked, my brows furrowing in concern.
She turned to face me, her hand dropping to squeeze Craig's before releasing him. "Times are hard 'round here. I imagine it was just someone looking for a warm, dry place to lay their head, but we can't be too safe with all the upgrades we've made thanks to your donors. Rather be safe and make sure the kids don't lose out because someone was desperate." She smiled, the crow's feet around her eyes becoming more pronounced. "But don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Victoria. Craig promised me a security upgrade today."
"That I did," He smiled. "If you wanna let me know where you stored the equipment, I can get started."
"Why don't you go with Victoria to her office while I grab the supply closet key from Martin? He's making his rounds, so it'll be a minute."
"Sure thing, Mrs. McMillan. Just come grab me when you're ready." He replied, turning his head toward me. "Lead the way, Princess."
He followed me to the small office that had once been my mother's. A small, time-worn desk with an old corded phone took up the center of the room, with an aging chair on either side. A lone filing cabinet was tucked in the back corner, the only other furniture in the sparse office. I rounded the desk, settling into the chair behind it before opening one of the locked drawers and pulling out a thick tan file.
Craig leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. "I remember you, you know."
"What?" I asked, looking up from the file in my hand.
"From when we were kids. I pretty much grew up here in the center, and I remember you and your mother."
"Mom loved this place." I sighed. "She spent so much time here. I can't really say I'm surprised you remember."
He moved into the room, settling into the other chair. "Prudence meant a lot to a lot of people. So did you. I'm sure you probably don't remember how we actually met." His voice trailed off, his eyes growing distant. "I think some of the girls were giving you shit. I don't really know. I just remember finding you as they were running away from the big tree in the old playground and your hand was cut pretty bad."
A memory surfaced as if summoned by his words. I was maybe eight or nine and desperately wanted to be accepted by a group of girls who came to the center every day after school. They had told me I didn't belong, that I would only be good enough for them if I could climb to the top of the old oak on the playground and carve my initials into its branches.
Like any other child my age, I couldn't let it go. One of them had handed me a knife they'd stolen from the kitchens, and I had carried it all the way to the top. I'd been proud of myself for not backing down right up until I was nearly back on the ground. I couldn't recall exactly what happened, but I had cut the palm of my hand just before I reached the bottom of the tree. The girls had scattered the moment they saw my bleeding hand, unwilling to face the consequences they knew would come.
A boy around eleven had been drawn by their hasty departure. I could clearly remember the way his blue eyes focused on my injury, his lips pursed in concentration as he pressed the bottom of his shirt against it to stem the bleeding.
"That was you?" I asked, my voice hushed.
"That was me." He chuckled. "You were pretty worried about what your mom would do if she found out what happened. It took longer to calm you down and convince you that falling on glass was a believable lie than it did to patch up your hand."
"I honestly thought my mom would keep me from coming back, and I loved spending time here after school. The kids were just so much more real than the stuffy private school kids I was used to." I laughed. "I never did figure out how a kid only a couple years older than me knew how to patch up a cut like that, though. You were so sweet and patient with me."
"You sound surprised by that." He chuckled.
"Well, I mean, you guys are… you. I know everyone thinks I'm some dumb naive girl, but I'm not stupid. I've been around the center since I was a kid. I know how to spot a criminal when I see one." I replied with a pointed look.
"I know what you think of us, Princess, but we aren't the bad guys." He replied, causing me to roll my eyes. "Okay, we are the bad guys, but we're not bad men and we weren't always gangsters."
His words echoed Joey's from the day before. I opened my mouth to respond, intending to make a snarky comment about how Az had tried to kidnap me. Then, the five of them had inserted themselves into my life. But, I was interrupted by Mrs. McMillan strolling into the office.
"Sorry that took so long," she smiled down at Craig. "Here's the supply room key. I really appreciate you doing this for the center."
"Any time, Mrs. McMillan." Craig replied, standing from his seat and taking the key from her outstretched hand. "Gotta make sure this place stays a safe space for the kids."
They left the office, discussing the new security measures Craig planned to implement, closing the door behind them. Part of me wanted to chase him down and demand he explain himself. I didn't understand how these men could keep insisting they weren't evil when one of them had sabotaged my gala and tried to abduct me.
Huffing, I forced my thoughts aside and turned my focus back to the file I'd laid on the desk. With the gala going up in flames, there hadn't been as many donations as usual, and the center was running low on funds. The file had the information of everyone who had ever donated to the center. Taking a breath to center myself, I flipped it open, placing my finger under the first line, and began making calls.