CHAPTER 19 FAE
FAE
My phone buzzes as I pull up outside my house and I groan out loud.
I already know what it is before I even look at it.
That tone only ever means one thing. I grit my teeth and sit there staring at the steering wheel.
If I close my eyes and leave it long enough, will it just disappear?
Maybe I could be the one to disappear, like Robyn, and then I wouldn’t have to deal with this.
I scoff at the thought. Even if I went missing, they’d probably find me just to put me straight back to work.
Leaning over, I grab my phone from my bag, unlocking it as I bring it up and stare at the incoming message.
Secure message:
Target: Daniel Hargrove: terminate
Location: The Black Briar, East London
Deadline: 12 hours
Failure is not survivable
I drop my head back against the seat and close my eyes, exhaling slowly through my nose.
Hopefully it’s like Charles and I won’t actually need to do anything explicit with this mark.
Another notification comes through before I can even breathe and I open one eye, pulling it open as I flick through the file attached.
Daniel’s photo stares back at me, followed by a slew of information I don’t need to read to understand who he is.
I’ve seen enough versions of him already.
My jaw tightens as I hit the one line I didn’t want to see.
Undercover escort.
Fuck.
How am I going to explain this to Roman? Can I even explain it to him?
The last few days have been blissful in a way I didn’t know I was capable of.
We’ve been gently pushed out of the main house, left to our own space, and I’ve spent almost all of my free time with him at mine and Robyn’s.
It’s been a bubble, one I already feel slipping through my fingers and I was counting on these couple of weeks before initiation to carry me through whatever comes next.
I never knew it could be like this. I never knew men could be like this. It’s the way he looks at me, like I’m something worth holding onto, something rare, and the way he touches me without it turning my stomach or making my skin crawl that has my heart picking up every time I see him.
“Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the phone back into the console and pushing the door open before I can sit there long enough to start thinking about it properly.
I slam the car door harder than I need to and stand there letting the cool air hit my face as I try to force my body back into something functional. My hands feel too tight at my sides, like I’m not quite settled in myself and now I have to go and pretend I am.
The front door sticks slightly when I push it open and I step inside, flicking the lock behind me.
The house is quiet again. It’s empty in that way that feels suffocating.
I couldn’t stand it when Robyn first left, but Roman helped bring life back into it.
Now every corner of the flat reminds me of him, of his hands on me, of the way his body took from mine over and over again.
Is this cheating if I do this? Do I need to tell him, or will he block it and ultimately get me killed? And more importantly, why the fuck am I letting a man dictate how I do my job? I exhale slowly as I lean back against the door, tipping my head up to the ceiling as I let my eyes fall shut.
I have twelve hours to get ready, find him, kill him, and get back home. I need to get my head in the game. This is my reality and nothing I can do can change that.
I push myself off the door before I can think about it much more and move upstairs.
My steps feel automatic, like muscle memory is carrying me through something I don’t want to feel.
Ever since I realised that consent felt different, I’ve dreaded going back to the work I do.
I just wish Father had put me forward as something else.
For all the darkness, all the trauma and abuse, this is the one thing I don’t think I can forgive him for.
I refuse to believe he didn’t realise this was a life sentence for me.
My room is exactly how I left it this morning. Roman’s shirt that I slept in is thrown haphazardly over the edge of my bed. I linger on it; it almost feels like I’m stepping into someone else’s life. Someone carefree and reckless, without responsibilities or jobs to do.
Someone better.
My gaze drifts to the top of the bed, to the imprint that hasn’t quite disappeared yet and my chest burns. Roman’s voice is still too close in my head, the way he groans my name, the way his hands feel like he is trying to learn my body rather than take something from it.
I swallow hard and force my eyes away.
That version of me doesn’t exist tonight.
I move to the wardrobe and pull it open as my fingers brush over soft fabrics that feel like they don’t belong in this harsh world.
I push them aside until I reach exactly what I’m looking for.
This black dress is my go to. It’s expensive enough to look like it belongs and revealing enough to invite attention, but not so much that it looks desperate.
My reflection watches on as I change into matching lingerie.
I never realised how detached and clinical this process was for me.
It’s as if I’m studying someone else instead of becoming her.
I tilt my head, watching the way it softens my features, the way it makes me look open and approachable.
I purposely soften my expression as I add the finishing touches to my make-up.
I realise with a jolt what this is. What it has always been. A mask. One I’ve worn so many times it almost feels natural now.
By the time I’m done, there’s nothing left of the Fae Roman has.
I pick up my perfume, making sure to spritz behind my ears before collecting my clutch and phone as I head back downstairs.
My focus is on the file as I walk to my car, letting my eyes skim over the details again.
By the time I reach my car door, I already know exactly how this is going to play out.
The drive passes in a blur I don’t fully register.
My hands move, my eyes track the road, but my head is somewhere else entirely.
For the whole journey, I’m running through the file, through what I already know this night is going to ask of me, before my thoughts keep drifting back to the guilt about Roman.
By the time I pull up outside The Black Briar, I don’t remember half the journey here.
The place is exactly what I expected. The dark glass and low lighting spill out onto the pavement.
It’s the kind of bar that doesn’t need to advertise what it is because the people walking past already know.
The place is suffocating in money and discretion.
I smooth my hands down the front of my dress before stepping out.
The click of my heels against the pavement is sharp enough to pull me back into my mind.
I take a deep breath to centre myself before nodding to the doorman.
He smiles and nods as he opens the door and I feel my spine straighten and shoulders drop as I step through to the bar.
Inside, it’s warm and dim, the air is thick with expensive cologne and low conversations that blur into background noise.
My eyes scan the room before landing on him almost instantly.
Daniel is sat back in his chair with a drink of what looks like whiskey in his hand.
His posture is loose in a way that comes from being completely comfortable in places like this and I have to shake off the goose pimples threatening to cover my skin as his attention lifts to me.
He’s attractive in that way that men are when they look after themselves.
His dark hair is neatly kept and his blue shirt is tailored just right across his shoulders.
As I get closer, I see a Rolex sitting heavy on his wrist as if he wants it to be noticed.
My stomach tightens at his smile. He has dimples so much like Roman that my steps falter slightly. Steeling my shoulders, I make my way over to him and he glides off his chair like a genie.
“Elara,” he says, like he’s testing it out in his mouth.
I let a small smile pull at my lips as I close the distance, letting him lean in first so I don’t have to think about it.
His hand settles at my waist as he presses a kiss to one cheek, then the other, and my stomach rolls hard enough that I have to focus on keeping my expression steady instead of reacting.
“Daniel,” I softly respond.
He takes a step back just enough to look at me properly, his gaze dragging over my body in a way that makes my skin prickle.
“You’re even better than the photos.”
“Well, isn’t that the compliment? I’m sure they airbrushed me.”
I let out a quiet laugh, tilting my head as I move past him and slide into the seat beside him.
He sits down, and I shuffle closer, forcing our legs to brush.
His hand lands on my thigh like it belongs there, but I don’t flinch.
I’ve done this dance enough times now to know how this will go.
I move my hand to cover his as I lean in slightly and lightly trace my fingers over his wrist.
“What can I get you?” he asks, already signalling for the bar.
“Whatever you’re having, handsome.”
My hand wanders as his eyes roam over my body. I accidentally let my pinky pull against his cock. His knee jumps up, as I wink at him and bite my lip.
“Naughty,” he leans in. I can feel his hot breath on me; it takes everything in my power not to spit in his face with repulsion.
“What can I say, I can be even more naughty than that.”