Chapter 11 Cassius
CASSIUS
Had I known that Sarah would be this anxious about being in New York City, I might have started somewhere smaller, maybe Miami or Chicago.
Might.
I didn’t do well with people who struggled with insecurity. And most people did better than they thought possible.
But there was something to be said for putting the cart before the horse.
I needed to build Sarah up as fast as possible without making her suspicious or fearful of a downfall.
A private jet flight might have been the next best step, but it didn’t have to go to Manhattan.
About the only thing worse would have been Paris, and truth be told, that would have required a little bit of planning.
Still, we were here, Sarah was functional, and all was proceeding as I had set out to do from the start.
We had one of my valet drivers waiting to pick us up as soon as we landed; the plane had not even had its engines shut down entirely before we were in the vehicle.
Sarah was in awe; I had to remind myself that her entire experience with planes beforehand had probably been entirely commercial.
Not even first-class seats offered this quick of an exit.
“Enjoy the scenery,” I said. “We still have another couple of hours before we have to be at the gala, and we will be at the hotel suite for a spell before then. There is nothing to explore until then.”
Sarah nodded. She didn’t look as panicked as she had moments before.
I almost felt sympathy for her; admittedly, I could never understand the artist’s route.
As much as I found them to be an insecure lot of headcases, they did provide art that could occasionally get under my cold skin.
A bunch of fucking weirdos who could do the impossible.
It just so happened this fucking weirdo was my hot ex that I sometimes wanted to destroy, sometimes wanted to fuck senseless, and sometimes considered one and the same.
And frankly, who the fuck knew what would happen at the hotel?
I honestly could have just gotten us one room, but that would be sloppy, too easy.
I wanted to earn Sarah’s return, not just grab it.
We got to the hotel, a Waldorf in the middle of the city, and were immediately whisked to the penthouse suite. Before I could say a word, however, Sarah made her way to the bedroom on the ground level, closed the door, and sounded like she collapsed into bed.
So.
She was clearing her head before I even had the chance to say anything. Fair enough. Part of the challenge—and fun, for me—was keeping her on her toes mentally. I wasn’t a Black Reaper; I wasn’t going to do anything physical. But mentally?
Well, I’d done enough to let her have the next hour or so to herself.
But after that…
An hour sharp later, I told her it was time to go.
Sarah must have anticipated this, because when she opened the door, she was dressed in a silky blue dress that went down to her knees.
It was just seductive enough to threaten a stiff reaction in my pants, but not so erotic as to be inappropriate for an event like this.
Then again, given how some dressed for events like this, who knew what was fair game and what wasn’t.
I hurried her downstairs to our valet driver already waiting; we kept mostly quiet, only engaging in minor small talk along the way.
I wanted to get her to the gala, in a place where my natural confidence and stoicism would have an easier time; she probably wanted to keep her sanity.
It didn’t make for a great spark for conversation.
But even in moments like these, I knew that tension was slowly building.
Often, silence was the best slow burner.
Words always carried a risk that the wrong one or even the wrong inflection could undo hours of proper building.
Silence let the mind wander to places it would take much longer to speak to—places I intended to eventually take Sarah.
When we arrived at the gala, I was about to take her to her artwork when I heard someone shout my name.
“Cassius Vale!”
I turned just to hear who had the audacity to speak to me like that. Most people referred to me as “Mr. Vale.” Most people didn’t even bother speaking to me, actually. For someone to speak like that…
I turned and saw a man about my age, slicked back brown hair, in an understated but rich tuxedo approaching me. The man looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. He wasn’t anyone I would have done a business deal with; I remembered all of those for a variety of reasons.
“Looks like we both needed to escape Las Vegas,” he said, sporting a grin.
“And who are you?” I said, not bothering to hide my contempt for him acting like an idiot.
“Leo Morril,” he said, extending his hand.
“I would not underestimate them. They’re hungry to make a name for themselves. They are ruthless and unafraid to break social norms to get what they need.”
My brother Lucas’ warning echoed in the back of my mind. I did not fear this Leo Morril; I did not fear any man, frankly. I didn’t get to where I was by playing chicken with fucking fools.
But an unhinged man could be a massive headache, and an unhinged billionaire was one of the few types of men that could draw my attention and time in ways that I couldn’t just pay off someone else to take care of.
“Ah, Leo, a pleasure to meet you,” I said, putting on the smallest but still polite smile I could. “I hear you are making great inroads with your off-Strip casino.”
“Only a matter of time before we become your neighbors,” Leo said, wearing a similar smile. It was a smile that warned me not to fuck with him. To me, it was simple—if he remained off the Las Vegas Strip, no, I would not fuck with him. He could have the bronze and silver while I took home the gold.
If he did come on the Strip? Let’s just say he’d walk home with no medals, and I wouldn’t even have to resort to unhinged methods.
“And speaking of neighbors, who is this lovely lady with you?”
“This is Sarah Carpenter,” I said, and my voice lost all pretense. “She is one of the best artists here. I suggest you treat her with the respect that accords her.”
“Ah, but of course,” Leo said, and he reached down, took Sarah’s hand, and kissed it. I might have beaten Leo to fucking death in a less public setting. I still considered it, even here. Leo was quite fucking lucky his gesture was considered old-fashioned manners. “I took it you flew her in?”
“That is none of your concern, Leo. I see you have come alone.”
“A personal decision, yes,” Leo said. “I often find that bringing someone along who does not understand our world can carry its own form of risk. Surely, you understand what I mean, don’t you?”
“And you will surely understand when I say that who I spend my time with and why is none of your business, Leo,” I growled.
Even Sarah would see how strongly I felt about this moment.
“If you wish to make more remarks about Sarah, I suggest you do it out of earshot of me. And even then, take care to make sure that those you speak to would not say it to me.”
Leo took a step back, raised his arms as if in surrender—all the while wearing a smug grin—and then chuckled.
“I did not realize I was stepping into the den of a mama bear,” he said. “Sarah, do enjoy the show. Cassius, I look forward to meeting you many times more.”
With that, he left. I watched him leave, my blood well past its boiling point. I was so hot, I couldn’t tell if he was warning me or Sarah or both or something else. But it was clear he wasn’t wishing us well.
Suddenly, I was envious of the Black Reapers. In their world, if an equal did something atrocious—stealing a woman, leaving a club, whatever—they had no barriers to retribution. Sure, it got a little bloody, but that was the point.
Me? I was more dignified, but that meant I had to be more restrained and more patient. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that was a tradeoff well worth taking for my long-term wealth and power.
This was that one in a hundred where I just wanted to beat the shit out of someone, have their blood on my hands, and walk away with no regrets.
“Who was that?” Sarah asked.
I took a few seconds to calm myself. It didn’t work totally, but it relaxed me enough that I could actually answer Sarah’s question.
“Someone who would destroy me and us if given the opportunity,” I said, not as cautious as I usually would be with my words. “He owns casinos off-Strip but has been looking to get on.”
I turned to Sarah and placed a hand on her shoulder. This was not the touch of seduction, but the firm grip of warning.
“Do not go near that family, and tell everyone you know not to go near that family. We might have a complicated past, but you know I will not hurt you. You know I will not bloody you.”
But I might break you. I might ruin you in different ways.
“All that you fear of the Black Reapers? That family might just resort to that. Whatever happens, do not go near them. I wouldn’t even go near their properties, frankly.”
Sarah nodded, then grabbed my hand and pulled it down.
“Thank you, Cassius,” she said in an uncomfortably heartwarming way. “I didn’t expect you to be that defensive of me. That was sweet.”
Sweet.
That was uncomfortable. I didn’t do sweet. Just because I didn’t do violent, cruel, and stupidly illegal didn’t mean I did cuddles, teddy bears, and sweet.
“I did what I had to do,” I said coldly. “Come, you have an exhibit to show off.”
I did not give her the chance to say anything more. When I looked back, I saw her trying to puzzle out what I really wanted. It was a hopeless cause, honestly.
Maybe it was just me being possessive of who would be the one to ruin Sarah Carpenter, in a weird way.
Maybe I still, despite pulling her all the way out to New York City, didn’t know what I wanted to do.
Maybe I just hated the Morrils more than I hated Sarah—which was really saying something, considering one was only a threat and one had ruined my life years before.
But it didn’t really matter what, either way.
We were here at the gala. Leo knew well enough not to fuck with me. Sarah was in my grasp, at times confused but ultimately along for whatever I chose to do to her.
It was time to let the night unfold and see what would become of it.