10. Caden
Caden
I really couldn’t be fucked to be here, but I didn’t have the patience for the inevitable, exaggerated disappointment that would follow. So, here I was.
An hour. I could do this without punching someone in the face.
Adjusting the sleeves of my jacket I moved with purpose towards my father, who was currently talking to another pompous aristocrat with a pointless title.
“Caden, there you are,” Dad greeted with, well, not exactly warmth, but he wasn’t cold, either. “You’ve met Charles.”
I turned my gaze to the older gentleman with the moustache and nodded my greeting. Purposely ignoring the outstretched hand. “Evening,” I said before returning my attention to the man that raised me. “I thought this was supposed to be a mixer?”
Charles awkwardly laughed, letting his arm drop. “We’ll speak soon, Alexander.”
Shaking Charles’s hand, Dad turned to me. “You don’t have to be so brutish, Caden.”
“Why is he even here?” I clenched my jaw, frustration growing. “I doubt he needs your financial investment help considering his family is broke.”
“They’re not broke,” Dad seethed. “And we were just discussing the possibility of setting you up with his daughter. An arrangement, of sorts.”
“An arrangement?” I echoed. “Like an arranged marriage? What is this, the eighteenth century?”
“Of course not, don’t be so ridiculous.” He sniffed, as if displeased. “I was just opening the conversation. It’s not like you have any other female prospects.”
“You invited him to set me up on a date?”
For fuck’s sake.
“No, I invited him, along with a few others that aren’t in certain circles to make the firm seem—”
“Less dodgy,” I finished for him, glancing around the bar the firm had exclusively hired. I recognised some of those attending, organisations that flirted with the Underworld, alongside known leaders who once stood in direct opposition to the Beast.
The room was full of uninteresting people, and I couldn’t wait to leave.
“Really, Caden?” Dad growled, and I barely hid my smirk at his expression. “We also cater to those with normal incomes.”
“Right, but it’s the abnormal incomes that keeps you in champagne and caviar.”
Dad pursed his lips but didn’t rise to my comment. “Why hasn’t Kent been dealt with?” he asked, voice dropping to a whisper as he moved to stand at my side.
I spotted Kent Grant sitting over at the bar, chatting up a blonde that was at least half his age.
“Maybe because I’ve been dealing with other important shit.
” Three vans in the space of a week, all stolen.
All tracked down to the Peckham-fucking-Crowns.
As a gang they could barely string a sentence together, which helped because we recovered every single gram except for the stuff snorted by the cunts.
“Ah yes, the vans. I suppose you’ve sorted it?”
“Of course.”
I was the one who kept everything ticking in the background, making sure every cog aligned and every mechanism ran like clockwork. Which meant I’d been the one tracking down every bastard who touched the powder that I’d created.
I didn’t get my Bachelor of Science just for some clowns to steal it. Especially considering I’d worked with a chemist to create a powder with the perfect euphoric high. Synthetically refined to minimise adverse effects, it made the Cursed Rose the purest and most expensive cocaine on the market.
“Just make sure you deal with Kent soon.” Dad sighed when I remained silent. “I don’t know how long I can pretend ignorance.” He made a grunt at the back of his throat. “Excuse me,” he said as he stepped away.
I waited until he began a conversation with someone else before I glanced at my watch.
It was a large gold piece, and one of the only things I’d ever kept that my father had gifted me.
More so because it was my grandfather’s, one of the only things he hadn’t pawned, sold, or given to a sex worker.
It ticked loudly, indicating that I’d only been there ten minutes.
Fucking hell.
“Nice watch,” a voice said, and I looked up to find a woman smiling at me, her eyes a warm brown that went well with the dark hair professionally curled around her shoulders. “Hi, I’m Vivienne.”
She held out her hand, her long nails painted a deep purple that matched her dress.
I gave her hand a brief, firm shake and let go quickly, my attention already drifting away. “Caden,” I said, nodding once.
She didn’t seem deterred by the flat tone. Instead, her smile deepened as she tilted her head slightly, her pupils a touch too wide in the dim light. “I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room,” she continued, her voice smooth. “The watch, I mean.”
This time I took her in longer, the way her lips curved with quiet amusement under my attention, the deep-purple dress clinging to her slim frame, and the air of confidence she portrayed like she wasn’t used to being told no.
She seemed to take my brief glance as encouragement, because she placed her hand lightly on my arm, leaning in just enough for too sweet perfume to assault my nose. “So, do you always look this serious?”
“Just how my face is,” I replied evenly.
Vivienne’s laugh was soft and throaty, her fingers giving my arm the gentlest squeeze before she slowly drew them away.
“Are you here with someone? I came with a friend, but she’s abandoned me for some guy.
” She took a small sip from her glass, eyes sparkling with quiet invitation.
“I’d hate to spend the rest of the evening alone. ”
I barely heard the last part, my gaze already drifting past her shoulder, locking onto a flash of red.
What the fuck was she doing here?
My jaw tightened instinctively, everything else fading into background noise.
“So, did you want—”
“Excuse me,” I said, my shoulder brushing hers as I passed.
Aeris-fucking-Merrin stood at a high-top table, a glass of champagne held in her neatly manicured hand.
Her dark-green dress was slim fit, hugging her curves before easing out at her knees into a subtle fishtail.
Long red hair spilled down her back in soft waves, partially pinned with a pearl clip that mirrored the single pearl suspended from the delicate gold chain at her throat.
Aeris laughed with a man in a blue suit, the pale skin of her shoulders catching the light as she shifted, champagne glass lifting to her full lips. And then there was her voice, wrapping around me like it always did.
The man she was speaking to glanced up as I approached, recognition hitting him instantly. His expression tightened, eyes widening just enough to give him away.
There was a subtle pause in her laughter before Aeris turned, looking up at me with eyes that reminded me of the restless ocean. Not quite blue, but not quite green, either. Colours that shifted and swirled the longer you held her gaze, dragging you under before you realised you were drowning.
“Caden,” she said lightly, as if we were old friends. “You’re looking rather unapproachable.”
“And yet,” I replied, “here you are.”
Her upper lip twitched. “I think you’ll find you came over to me.”
The man beside her swallowed, shifting his weight as if suddenly aware he was in the wrong place.
I ignored him entirely, my grip tightening around Aeris’s arm as I pulled her away. In one smooth movement, I spun us and pressed her back against the exposed brick, angling my body to block her from the rest of the room.
“Isn’t it funny,” I said quietly, “how I can go months without seeing you, and now you turn up twice in one week?”
“It’s cute that you think my life revolves around yours.
” Aeris raised a single brow, her high heels giving her just enough height that she only needed to tilt her head back a little to meet my gaze.
“I was invited by your father,” she said smoothly.
“I’ve been looking for a new advisor for a while now. ”
Lifting her glass, she took a sip of her champagne, and I hated how my gaze lingered on her lips longer than it should have.
“Cut the bullshit. You’re working,” I said, the words edged like a warning.
She smiled, and it tore through me like a fucking storm. “You really don’t think much of me, do you?”
“I think you don’t do anything without a reason, sweetheart.”
“Yes. The reason being I needed a new financial advisor,” she said, rolling her eyes as she went to step past me. “Maybe you should concentrate on the whereabouts of your product, rather than me.”
I stilled. How the fuck …
Her eyes flicked past my shoulders, and I nearly growled for her to look back. The urge was irrational, unwelcome. I shouldn’t care where her attention went.
But before I could respond, her skin drained of colour, panic flaring in her eyes. I turned, scanning the room for whatever had drawn that reaction.
A soft palm cupped my cheek, forcing me to turn back before her lips claimed mine.
I hesitated for a heartbeat, just long enough to recognise what she was doing. Anger shot through me like lightning, at the thought she’d try and use this as a way to get to me.
But rather than let her win, I was willing to play her game. One I had no intention of losing.
Surging forward I drove her back against the wall, reclaiming control. One of my hands palmed the side of her throat, pinning her in place, while the other sunk into the long strands of her hair.
Irritation and desire knotted together, sharp and volatile, and something in me snapped. I kissed her hard, ruthless, taking everything she offered just out of spite.
Her breath hitched, her pulse racing against my palm as I tightened my grip just a little in warning. She let out a soft moan, and I swore under my breath as my cock reacted. Shoving myself away, I broke the contact before I did something even stupider than kiss her back.
Fuck.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
She looked at me, her skin flushed and her lips parted. Seemingly almost as surprised as I was.
“Aeris?”
She froze at her name, the earlier panic reappearing. Then she closed her eyes, composing herself. It was unusual, that crack in her armour. Aeris was effortlessly confident. Seeing it falter, even for a second, felt like glimpsing a weakness she would never willingly show.
Which made me want to press the fracture and see how deep it ran. To watch her lose that perfect balance and see the real woman beneath the glittering facade and practiced seduction.
“Aeris?” a man growled again, and this time I finally turned, putting myself between them.
Tristan Murdock stood with a sour expression, his eyes narrowed as they flicked between us. He was the public face of the Crown Prosecution Service, a courtroom bulldog with a reputation for relentless convictions, and had tried on more than one occasion to take us down.
He’d built his name on locking up the most dangerous criminals in the country.
So why the fuck was he standing at a private mixer filled with them?
“Mr Ackworth,” he grunted in my direction. “If you’d please give me a moment alone with my daughter.”