Chapter Fourteen. Ember #7
He chuckles, and irritation flashes inside me, hot and bright.
“I stand corrected. And you’re right. We’re all capable of committing things.
It’s the decision of whether or not to act that separates us from others.
” He takes a step forward, and it requires everything in me not to retreat.
I’m not scared of Kareem. But unease frog-marches down my back.
It increases when his voice takes on this faraway quality, as if he’s no longer talking to me but himself.
“That’s what connects you and me. People tend to overlook us, underestimate us.
Marcus did it for years with you. Asad and Mom do it with me. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
“Kareem.” I lift a hand toward him, and it hovers just over his forearm. But that unease screams louder inside me, and I lower it. “Are you okay?”
“Hmm?” He gives his head a small, sharp jerk and smiles.
The unease deepens, burrowing beneath my skin, sinking in my stomach.
“Yes, fine. Sorry. Like I was saying, I’m sorry about your hand.
If someone really cares for you, they wouldn’t be able to hurt you like that.
Or continue to humiliate you by playing in your face.
I get your … relationship isn’t conventional, but—”
“Hold up, hold up.” It’s me who steps forward this time. I circle my hand in a rewind motion. “Run that back, please. What’re you talking about, he continues to humiliate me and play in my face?”
“Ember.” Kareem’s heavy sigh is as fake as the sympathy he’s trying to emit.
The shaft of moonlight hitting the upper side of his face reveals the delighted gleam in his eyes.
For the first time since we met, when he was thirteen and I was twelve, the resemblance between him and Michelle is uncanny.
And unnerving. Because I’m outside, relatively alone with the offspring of a snake.
“I came here tonight with Aryn, but do you really think she’s for me?
” He tsks. “Prince had me bring her as my date so he can access her. She’s here for him, not me. ”
His words land on my body, blow after blow, kick after kick.
They leave me breathless, aching. Is this true?
It could be. Asad and Aryn had history. And if I’d learned anything in the last week, it’s that Asad is highly sexual.
If he wasn’t getting pussy from me … My hand splays over my heart, and each lungful of air I take hurts like flesh scraping over jagged glass at just the thought of him putting his mouth on someone else, touching someone else, sliding inside someone else …
giving them what I’d, at some point, started to consider mine.
“I don’t say this to hurt you,” Kareem continues, his voice clear despite the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
“But you’ve been lied to and used long enough.
Another thing we have in common. Prince doesn’t deserve your dedication or loyalty.
And Cross doesn’t deserve your brilliance or service.
You’re better—meant for better and much bigger things—than my brother and the organization your father didn’t even see you worthy enough to lead. ”
I stare at Kareem, seeing him, really fucking seeing him for maybe the first time. Glimpsing the animosity and jealousy of his brother. Catching the ambition and avarice he’s no longer bothering to hide now that he thinks he has an ally in me. A malleable, weak ally he can manipulate and twist.
It’s then that my head clears of the noise, confusion, and doubt.
Asad might be a cold-blooded, merciless, and murderous asshole, but he’s an honest one.
He’s never lied to me; to the contrary, he’s been brutally, even uncomfortably, honest. So having his brother bring his ex-slide to the ball?
No, that’s not Asad. And if I hadn’t let my own doubts supersede my common sense, I would’ve immediately rejected that accusation.
Kareem played on my insecurities, and I allowed him to momentarily get into my head.
The question is, why go through the effort? What does Kareem want from me?
I don’t give a fuck.
And I have no desire to be out here alone with him any longer.
“I should get back inside. I’m sure your brother or Sam are looking for me by now,” I say, descending the short flight of stairs and heading toward the archway.
“Ember…”
“See you in there, Kareem.” I lift a hand, wiggling my fingers and walking away as fast as the tight fit of my dress will allow.
He sighs. “I can’t let you do that.”
Frustration joins my annoyance, and it flares so bright inside me it should light up this fucking courtyard. I hold up my hand, giving him the same one-fingered salute I gave his mother not so long ago.
“Can’t let me do—”
Pain explodes in the back of my skull. A burst of light behind my eyelids blinds me.
Then … nothing.
Asad
Standing near the bottom of the staircase, I lean an elbow on the curved newel post and murmur a noncommittal reply to the CEO of a prominent and prestigious hedge fund who approached me ten minutes ago with his COO.
This isn’t a friendly greeting from two guests attending my ball and wanting to shoot the shit.
It took a little time, but they eventually started their pitch of why they were a great company to invest my money.
I stare at them, allowing them to get the whole spiel out, and apparently, they take that as positive sign.
But they must now know about me. How thorough and distrustful I am.
I had every person attending tonight investigated before an invitation was even issued. From their childhood pet’s name to the brand of toothpaste they use, I’m aware of everything about them. Including things they hide.
Which is why I’m not taking shit these two men are saying to me. Because I know that their hedge fund is in serious trouble due to the CEO playing make-it-rain with clients’ money, and his boy, the COO, covering up his theft.
“We would love to schedule a meeting with you, Mr. Prince,” Brian Warrington, the CEO, says, wearing a smile so wide I can see his wisdom teeth in the back of his mouth.
The silver hair, glasses, sharp yet handsome features, and perfectly tailored Italian suit give the air of a wealthy, successful businessman.
But his tanned skin is giving tropical vacation on someone else’s dime.
“At your convenience, we would like to go more into depth of our services and portfolios.”
I lift my glass of D’USSé and take a sip, switching my gaze between Brian and the COO whose name I didn’t bother to catch.
“I’m going to have to decline.” Straightening, I tuck my hand in my pants pocket, never removing from the men in front of me. With his slim, damn near fragile build, dull brown hair, and shifty eyes, he’s probably used to being overlooked.
“Mr. Prince, if you would give us a chance to—”
I shake my head and take another sip of the cognac.
“Nah. I’m actually saving your life by declining your offer. ‘Cause you fuck around with my money and it comes up missing, you gon’ need to paint lamb’s blood over your door because I’m coming for you, your firstborn, and first cousin. Everybody can get it behind stealing from me.”
Brian blinks. Then blinks again. When he sees I’m not smiling or laughing, he swallows so hard his Adam’s apple scales his throat before bobbing back down. He clears his throat, and parts his lips to say something else to me, but I’m done here.
Patting his shoulder, I stride past him, heading for the other side of the ballroom in the direction I last saw Ember before she left for the bathroom.
Unease creeps through me as I slowly scan the large space and don’t find her among the guests.
The fuck she doing in that bathroom? It shouldn’t take—I glance down at my watch—fifteen minutes to go and return.
I narrow my eyes, surveying the room again as that unease crouching behind my rib cage expands, breathes into a dread that wraps around each rib like a poisonous, clingy vine. Something’s not right. It’s not right …
“Prince.” A large hand claps down on my shoulder, much like how I did Brian. I turn around and Eli studies me for a moment, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “It’s 11:53. You and Ember should be heading to the stage for the midnight engagement announcement.”