Chapter 5 #2
My phone buzzes in my palm. I flip it face-down on the island without looking at it. "Spam. I’m fine, yeah. You?"
"Sure."
He doesn't press. Maverick never presses—he invites chaos and truth like they’re wild animals he’s trying to tame. He’s an open palm where everyone else is a closed fist.
He taps the chip against the glossy surface of the counter and changes the subject easily. "Parents are more or less splitting the pot at the end of the quarter. You hear that bullshit?"
"I heard 'fifteen percent or starve.'"
"Yup." He spins the chip again, casts his gaze down thoughtfully before speaking again. "I also heard, 'break the set.' I think they’re going to send us to different corners with pretty keys to pretty kingdoms and see who forgets to call home. To break the merry band of misfits that they created."
He says it lightly, but something threads through the words that isn't light at all. "Would you forget?" I ask. “To call home?”
His smile softens. "No, Trouble. That's the problem. I don't forget." He pauses. "I just…collect."
"Collect?"
"People. Stories. Messes." He gestures at the room around us with the chip.
"Whales, hosts, dancers, dealers. Half our revenue comes down to who feels seen and who feels like a number.
I'm good at making people feel like the only one in the room.
" He looks at me then, something way too serious beneath the lightness of his words.
"I’m just not good at being the only one in the room. "
"Maverick…you're enough, all on your own,” I say, because I can hear the shape of the fear he won't name. “You know that, right?”
"I do know." He doesn't, though. He blinks too slow; the meaning doesn't catch. “But if they carve us up—each of us with our own kingdom, they will find out how much I can’t do. I don’t know the contracts like Con, the security like Storm or the systems like Atticus.
Without them, what do I have left?" He lifts a shoulder. "I'm not asking you to answer."
I swallow. The split sits in my mouth like a coin. Tails I stay, heads I break something I can't fix. “What if they do?" I ask. "Split you. Where do I go? Or…do I go with any of you?”
Would I still get paid, if there is a Titan in every corner of the country would any place be safe for me to start over? I can’t be near any of them and pretend to be someone else.
He taps the chip once, quiet. "That’s up to you princess, and how much torment your heart can take.”
"That's not an answer."
"It's the truth" His eyes cut toward the hall where Conrad sleeps. "Pick any single Titan, and the others get smaller. Pick all of us, and people start wanting to divide you into shares that never quite equal a whole."
I rub the bridge of my nose. "I'm not a fucking portfolio, Maverick."
"Exactly." He hops off the counter and comes around to stand in front of me. "So let's say we refuse the terms that aren't in writing."
I rub my forefinger over my forehead. He’s speaking in riddles. “I don’t…what does…I don’t know what that means."
He catches my left wrist gently, flips it palm-up. From his hoodie pocket he pulls a thin cord of black silk—like a ribbon, except thinner, sleeker. He ties it twice around my wrist, leaving just enough room for it to move freely but not slide off, and tugs the knot snug.
“It means you matter,” he finally says. “And you need to remember that. It means no one gets to put you at a table by yourself. Not the parents. Not rivals. Not us. You don't get split to sweeten a deal. If a door tries to close on you, we wedge a foot in it."
It's stupid and small and exactly what I needed. "’No one puts Baby in a corner,’” I whisper.
He cocks his head, a little smile forming at the reference. “Yeah. We’re keeping you,” he says. “One way or another, even if Con doesn’t know it yet.”
“What if I don't want to be kept?" I ask, soft.
He considers that, really considers it. "Then we relearn our hands. We learn what holding looks like when it doesn't mean caging." He nudges my knuckles with his. "I can do that. I've been practicing."
My phone buzzes again against the granite. My stomach turns, and I shutter my eyes in a slow blink.
Just tell him.
Maverick's gaze flicks to it, then to me. "Spam?" he repeats, offering me the out one more time.
"Yeah." My lips form the lie before I can come clean. We are having a moment, and I can’t bear to ruin it. "Spam."
"Okay." He slides a single chip across the island. It's matte black, the Titan crest etched in gunmetal. "A marker," he says. "Not for the cage. For the call and the bullshit attached If you need me, you put this chip anywhere, and I'll find you."
"That's some dramatic Batman nonsense," I murmur, but I curl my fingers around the chip because it's cold and heavy and real.
"Dramatic works on my demographic." He flashes a set of white teeth. "Also, I'm charming, wealthy, and have a huge cock… I’m literally the life of the party in most cases."
"Well, you're wealthy," I correct, but I can't help smiling. The smile hurts and helps at the same time.
"Ouch." He leans in and rests his forehead against mine for a second—no heat, just contact. The kind of touch that doesn't take, just steadies.
“You are dangerous, kitten. You have the power to ruin everything. I should hate you for that, and maybe I do…but I can’t quit you.”
“You should hate me.”
I can tell him, right now. Show him the messages and wash my hands of it.
"No. You’re our good girl." He runs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“For what? Why?” I ask confused.
“For being the only one who never asked us for anything.”
My phone buzzes again—three short, insistent pings. Maverick's gaze goes flinty for a half second, the smile turning cold. "If that spam needs someone to start talking back, you tell me." A beat. "Or Atticus. Or Conrad. Or Storm. But you tell one of us."
"I will." It’s a lie.
He kisses my temple, light as the silk at my wrist. "Go back before the general wakes up and thinks I stole his favorite knife."
"He doesn't own me," I deny out of reflex, even when the warmth in my chest says otherwise.
"Sure." He winks. "That's why it's fun."
I tuck the chip into my palm and go back to Conrad’s room.
Ten. That’s how many messages have come through. All of them harassing.
All but the one that forces my phone to vibrate as I’m slipping under the covers next to the man who loves to hate me.
Nelly Nice Neighbor
Hey, I know you’re gone for a bit. But that stray that likes your place has been going over to Mary’s house and she called animal control. Figured I’d let you know in case you want to come get him before they do.
I really need to figure out my neighbor’s real name so I can replace the placeholder, but right now I’m just thankful that she sent me a message.
Nelly Nice Neighbor
I’d take him but you know my kid is allergic in the ‘kill you’ kind of way.
Because I miss Scrappy. And there’s no reason he can’t come here.
Glancing over at the sleeping man by my side, I think about waking him up. Telling him what I need. Then I slip out of bed before he realizes that I’m moving.
I know this is the only time he’s vulnerable with me. The only time he lets himself hold me the way I crave. I really want to soak up as much affection from him as I can.
But I’ve still got something to take care of, so sleep is going to have to wait.
Instead of getting comfortable, I sneak a pair of shorts and shoes onto my body and creep out of the penthouse.
What’s one more lie, one more thing for Conrad to hate me over?
At least now, I won’t be alone while I’m surrounded by enemies and men I can’t claim as my own.