15. Margot
fifteen
Margot
Idon't know how many hours crawl by before the truth settles in. Dante isn't coming home tonight. He’d warned me that anything could happen, but his words do nothing to quiet the worrying thoughts swirling around in my head.
Every soft creak of the unit has me sitting up, waiting for the familiar beep from the pin pad, but it never comes. As if it'll make much of a difference, I spend most of my time on the couch, watching the news as if it'll give me the answers I need.
By the time morning comes, and Dante still isn't here, I realize just how bad I have it.
I miss him.
Breakfast is too quiet; not even today's weather forecast is enough to make it feel livelier.
By the time the afternoon has rolled around, I realize waiting around isn't enough. Abandoning the very place I've spent too many hours, I grab one of the countless books left unread and approach the front door.
I shouldn't be so nervous to leave this place, but without knowing the state of things, it feels unsafe.
Going through with my plan, I open the door and keep it cracked with the book to avoid making the same mistake twice.
Across the hall, I eye the matching door. Making my way over, I knock on it, hoping someone will answer.
It takes another round of knocks before the door barely cracks open. Kylee opens the door, her shoulders tight until she sees me. She lets out a breath, her entire frame sagging as the tension drains away. Her eyes are shadowed with the exact same sleepless dread twisting through my own gut.
"Did Casper come home?" My voice cracks, betraying me.
She shakes her head, letting out a sigh. "You haven't heard?"
She pulls me inside, the door clicking shut behind us as she guides me to the kitchen. The quiet whistle of a kettle fills the silence.
"Casper called," she says softly, setting a steaming mug down in front of me. She wraps her hands around her own cup, staring into the dark liquid. "It was short. He wouldn't give me details over a jail phone, but... they’re being held without bail until further notice."
She doesn't have to tell me my father is involved, but at this extreme, I can see the damage that's been done.
Is there anything I can do to help?
"It's scary not knowing how they are," she confesses as she traces her cup. "But they always come back, so try not to stress out too much."
Knowing her words are easier said than done, I nod anyway, because she's right. I can't just worry myself to death.
Glancing around their home, I see their unit is nearly identical to ours. Except that while Dante has a small collection of books, these two have a far larger one. Enough to have a couple bookshelves full.
"Wow. I may have to trade you books at this rate."
She follows my gaze and lets out a much lighter laugh. "Please, take as many as you like. I own a shop here in town, and somehow, my inventory keeps getting brought here."
Like it's some kind of inside joke for her, her smile softens.
"You should stop by. I'm always looking for new customers." She lifts her brows, shooting her shot like some kind of marketing strategy to make an extra sale.
A real, surprised laugh bubbles up from my chest. It’s the first time I’ve smiled all day, and it feels incredibly good to just let it out. Because of it, I can't help but promise her that one day, I will.
Telling me all about her old shop and how she's moved into a much better one, we both lose track of time. Before I know it, I'm already feeling much lighter.
Knowing Dante is safe, despite being locked up, I'm more than relieved.
Following up to ask how her dress is coming along, I have to confess that I've been too distracted to get started on it.
"I've got nothing but time now," I admit, finishing the last of my tea.
As I stand up to leave, Kylee reaches into a jar and slips a few colorful, loose-leaf tea sachets into my hand. "Chamomile and lavender," she says with a knowing wink. "Trust me, they’re a lifesaver for stress. Drink one before bed, and it may help with getting a good night's worth of sleep."
I offer a grateful smile, clutching the little bags tightly. Walking back across the hall, the suffocating weight in my chest finally feels a little lighter.
The next few hours, I busy myself with designing a few dresses. With my fabrics and supplies, Dante had even thrown in a drawing pad with pencils. He'd really thought it all through.
Does he always do that?
Swapping between watching the news and finding more music stations to listen to, I work through three different designs.
Just as I'm finishing the third, the television shifts with 'Breaking News' flashing across the screen.
The same blonde woman who has spent the last handful of hours feeding me different stories is no longer smiling. She's sitting up straighter, her face somber, prepared for a serious story.
"Good Evening. We break away from our scheduled programming for a developing story. A major political scandal is unfolding today as an anonymous source has leaked a highly sensitive audio recording allegedly featuring Mayor Edward Ashford of Meadow Falls."
She further explains that my father had pushed along some kind of rezoning deal in exchange for large, undisclosed financial backing for his campaign.
"City Council members are already calling for an immediate ethics audit, stating they're going through an active independent investigation regarding his abuse of power."
Setting my drawing pad aside, I can't help but laugh. It's sour and dry. "Lady, that's hardly anything compared to what he's done in his time in office."
The screen cuts to footage that must've been recorded from this morning. Right there is my father, surrounded by microphones as reporters pound him with questions. Instead of listening to whatever excuses he tries to make, I'm too busy gawking at the screen.
No matter how much makeup they've thrown on him, there's no hiding his split lip.
Is that why Dante was arrested?
My toes curl at the thought, and another terribly timed laugh leaves me. It's impossible to know for sure, but given how much Dante despises him, I wouldn't be surprised if that's exactly how it went down.
Watching through the rest of the story, hardly surprised in the slightest, I move back to my designs, easily focusing on them once more.
I forgot how quickly time passes when I keep myself busy. Between cutting fabric and sewing it together, to taking a break up on the roof to swim a few laps with Kylee's company, to flipping through pages of another book, hours pass by with ease.
The strangest thing happens as one day turns to two, to three. Each day, a new story about my father breaks out across the news.
Money under the table? That's child's play. Proof of my father hand-picking judges to ensure maximum sentences for people who have been an issue for him? Shocker.
Today takes the cake. It's enough to make me stop in front of the television, staring blankly at the same blonde-haired woman as the headline scrolls across the screen, my cup of tea growing colder by the minute.
brEAKING: STATE AUTHORITIES LINK MAYOR ASHFORD TO CROSS-BORDER TRAFFICKING RING.
All of those terrible parties. Every time my father hosted them, I was only ever relieved to be forced to stay inside. Knowing that some of the people who celebrated along with him weren't any important officials. No, they were the same kind of people as my father.
The pretty women I'd see being fed drink after drink? I already knew their outcomes before they did.
And to think Madalyn was forced to attend those parties, and she never knew just how bad they were.
Gripping the handle to my cup harder, I watch the woman's mouth move, but the words sound mute.
It's the sudden knocking against the front door that makes me jump.
Jerking my head, my breath stills in my chest. Immediately muting the television, I set my cup down and tiptoe over. Another pounding follows after the first, and I lift onto my toes to look through the peephole.
On the other side, a man stands there looking impatient. He's wearing a suit and tie, his hair preened and perfect.
Everything inside of me tells me not to open the door, so I don't move. Maybe he'll go away if he assumes no one is home.
He doesn't go away.
"Open the door." His voice is muffled as he knocks again. "I don't know the code, Margot."
I don't move, my body frozen. Even more so when his eyes flick up to the peephole, and it's like he's staring right at me.
He shoves a hand through his perfect hair, the motion surprisingly aggressive. "I'm with the club. I'm here under Dante's order."
Pursing my lips, I open the door, leaving it cracked. "You don't look like you're a biker."
The man lets out a scoff, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
Up close, he doesn't just look clean—he looks obscenely expensive. He’s wearing a tailored charcoal suit that fits his broad, muscular frame too perfectly to be bought off a rack, and the watch glinting on his wrist probably costs more than my entire life.
There isn't a speck of road grit on him, yet he carries himself with the same heavy, lethal swagger as Dante.
"Can't exactly wear my cut right now," he says, his rough, entirely unpolished tone completely clashing with his billionaire exterior. "Anyone with leather is getting targeted at the moment thanks to your asshole father. Plus, I just came from work, cut me some slack."
Squinting, I notice he's carrying a sleek leather suitcase, his knuckles scuffed, as if they've recently met someone's jaw. We stare each other down for a few more seconds before he curses under his breath.
"Not that he'd talk about me, but I'm Cash." His hand touches the door, applying a little pressure, but he doesn't push it open. "He was too busy threatening me to be nice to give me the code to his home. Communication isn't too easy without being traced."
Against my better judgment, I let him inside. I watch as he strolls in, making himself at home. From gently taking off his jacket to loosening his tie, he cracks open his suitcase. Expecting him to pull out paperwork, I'm surprised when he pulls out a video camera.
He glances at the television, nodding. "I take it you've been keeping up on everything going down? Or, well, at Ashford's downfall?"
I nod, drifting toward him but keeping my distance. "Let me guess, you're the anonymous source?"
He scoffs at that. "Hardly. You can thank Hex for that, if you ever meet her. She set up an automation for each big reveal. Call it a middle finger to him. Shame she can't see how bad he's sweating now."
Feeling more confident now, I come closer to see what else he has. There's a green fabric folded inside, but he doesn't pull it out just yet.
"She's got enough stories to roll out for the rest of the week, but they're not enough, Margot.
" Pulling out one of the stools at the island, he takes a seat and looks around at all the damage I've made.
He lifts a brow at the fabric covered in cherries draped over the couch, some pieces cut off and littered around the floor.
At the scrunch of his nose, I grumble that I would've cleaned up a little if I knew I'd have company.
He doesn't seem to care enough, his attention remaining on the topic at hand. "I'm here not to tell you what to do, but to offer you the chance to fulfill the promise you made with Dante."
My eyes shift back to the camera, and my stomach clenches into a tight knot.
"He couldn't directly say it, but I don't think he wants you to feel like you have to do it.
I'm not supposed to tell you that it would be a big help, but I'm going to say it anyway.
Because without your assistance, my family is going to remain locked up unless we bring attention to what has been done.
I can only get them so much financial help, but they're trying to charge them for everything they can to put them away.
Your father—He's been trying to take us down for a long time, and this is his chance. "
He breaks everything I already know down about me telling my story. My face will be plastered all over the news, just like my sister's. My life will change drastically, but not for the worse.
"You'll be famous outside of the clubhouse." He rolls a shoulder. "As Dante's old lady, you don't have to worry about anyone giving you a hard time, either. You'll be free to do as you please. Your father won't be an issue, so you won't have to worry about that either."
Stuck on his explanation, I try to figure out what he means by calling me old. I'm still in my early twenties, for goodness sake.
"So, what do you say? Want to stick it to your bastard father and come back from the grave to haunt his ass?"
That gets a laugh out of me, helping ease the tension in my shoulders. Unfortunately, there's still something weighing them down, and it isn't the gravity.
"If I do it, what'll happen to me? I mean, after I give you guys what you want, I'll lose my purpose."
He stares at me, his brows coming together. He then shifts, looking uncomfortable. "...Are you two not...?"
Not what?
The silence between us is stiff.
"Everyone in the club was under the assumption that you two were together.
" Explaining it to me slowly, he motions to the place.
"Pretty sure Dante's under the assumption, too.
No offense, but you've destroyed his home.
That guy is so meticulous about his belongings, and he would've already lost his mind if it were anyone else. "
Listening to him go on about club gossip, it soon blurs into a mush of words as the realization hits me.
"He really said I didn't have to do it?"
Cash grimaces but nods.
The realization hits me hard enough to make my knees wobble beneath my weight.
He had let my sister go, losing his first chance to make his plan work. Now, he was willing to give up his last piece of ammunition? He was protecting me—not out of obligation, and not just out of lust, but because he actually cared.
Standing straighter, I take in a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do it."
The second Dante steps foot back inside this place, he and I are going to have a very long, very overdue conversation. But for now, after everything he's done for me, it's about time I return the favor.