35. Elle
35
ELLE
T he nightclub that Tristan says is the headquarters for the White Serpents looms over me like a foreboding shadow. I glance up towards the roof of it while Tristan opens the metal side door. Faint sounds of music flow out into the dark night. I tilt my head back down to find a muscular man right inside the door that Tristan just opened.
The man, who must be some kind of guard, looks at Tristan for a second before his gaze slides to me. I wait for him to challenge us. To ask who I am and what business I could possibly have here. But he doesn’t. He simply nods to Tristan, who nods back.
I remain standing there silently next to him.
“Come on,” Tristan says, and starts across the threshold.
After one more glance at the guard, I follow him into the building.
Surprise flickers through me as I take in the space. I’m not sure if it’s the name the White Serpents that produced the mental image or if it’s something else, but I kind of expected their headquarters to be a dingy bar full of old beer bottles and unwashed old men smoking in the corners.
Instead, the hallway we walk through is neat and clean. And the quick glance I managed to steal through a doorway showed a vibrant nightclub downstairs. Strobing lights, trendy music, and well-dressed people in their twenties. Not at all the rundown and dirty place I thought it would be.
I give my head a quick shake as I try to adjust my perception. The White Serpents isn’t some little backwater gang. It’s practically a business empire.
We reach a door at the end of the hall. But this time, Tristan doesn’t immediately open it. Instead, he turns to me.
His eyes are the most uncertain I have ever seen as he searches my face. “You really don’t have to do this.”
I look back at him with a steady gaze. “Yes, I do. I want to do this.”
In fact, I’ve never been more sure in all my life about wanting to do something. I want to do this. For us. For him .
I know that he is still a little uncomfortable with this. I could read it plain as day on his face when I brought it up. He doesn’t want to feel like he owes me anything. He doesn’t want to owe anyone anything.
But he won’t. I really meant what I said. I’m not lending him the money. And I’m not doing this out of pity or guilt. I’m simply returning money that was supposed to be his. I’m just righting a wrong.
I was so worried that he was going to refuse because of something as stupid as fragile male pride. So I was incredibly relieved when it turned out that he was mature enough to accept help when it’s offered freely. Not a lot of people, and not a lot of men in particular, do that because their pride gets in the way. So the fact that he did accept my help only makes me respect him even more.
Tristan continues searching my face, as if looking for signs of regret. I just look back at him with serious eyes. He swallows and then nods slowly.
“Alright,” he says, his voice a little thick.
I pretend not to notice.
Raising a hand, he knocks on the door before us.
After a few seconds, a commanding voice calls, “Come.”
Tristan draws in a deep breath as if to brace himself. Then he opens the door. I sweep my gaze over the room as we walk inside.
It’s a rather large space, with walls painted in a deep maroon color. The furniture inside is made of rich wood, giving it all a very expensive air. There is also a set of black drapes hanging on the wall to my left, which means that there is probably a large window there. It’s the wall that faces the club area I saw earlier, so it must be a way to observe the club from above without being seen.
I shift my gaze to the grand desk ahead.
A man in his fifties is sitting there. He has brown hair with only a few speckles of gray, a strong and athletic body, and sharp gray eyes that seem to pulse with quiet command. There is a military feeling to the way he carries himself, even whilst seated.
I expect a flash of worry to shoot through me. But to my surprise, it doesn’t. I only feel a steely sense of determination.
When we reach the massive desk, Tristan comes to a halt, straightens his spine, and clasps his hands behind his back.
“Sir,” he says.
Anger courses through me at the display of submission. God, I can’t wait to get Tristan out from underneath this guy’s thumb.
“Tristan,” Mr. Bracken replies. A calculating glint appears in his eyes as he holds Tristan’s gaze. “This is unexpected. A surprise visit when you have not been summoned.” He flicks a glance at me. “And you’ve brought a friend.”
“Yes.”
“Interesting. And why have you come?”
“To pay off my debt to you.”
Genuine surprise pulses in his eyes for a brief second. But he recovers quickly. Then his gaze slides back to me, and I can almost see the wheels turning behind his eyes.
A small, almost taunting, smile spreads across his lips as he looks back at Tristan again. “So, you’ve found yourself a little sugar daddy. Or sugar mommy, I should say.” He lets out a chuckle and leans back in his chair, giving Tristan a knowing look. “Good for you.”
Rage flashes through me, and I open my mouth to snap at him for being such a rude and disrespectful asshole. But before any sound can make it out, Tristan wraps his fingers around my wrist and gives it a firm squeeze. I start in surprise and flick a glance at him. He isn’t even looking at me, but I can somehow still practically feel him begging me not to say anything.
So instead of giving Bracken a piece of my mind, I blow out a breath to compose myself. I suppose Tristan is right. Picking a fight with this guy will probably only work against us.
“Yes,” I say instead, and flash him the friendly and pleasing smile that I have spent my entire life perfecting. “So if you would be so kind as to give me your account information, I can have the full amount transferred to you first thing tomorrow morning.”
That little smirk tugs at the corner of his lips again as he muses, “Is that so?”
Another flicker of irritation courses through me, but I keep it firmly off my face as I simply smile back at him.
He lets out a soft hmm , and I can’t tell if he’s amused or impressed.
Tristan is no longer squeezing my wrist, but he is standing so stiffly that I can almost feel the tension vibrating off his body. He keeps his expression neutral and his eyes firmly on Bracken. My heart aches for him.
“I accept,” Bracken says. “I will let you pay off Tristan’s debt.” A sharp glint suddenly shines in his eyes as he raises a finger in the air. “However, Tristan will still remain working for me for the duration of his studies at Bercester University.”
“No,” I immediately blurt out.
Tristan flinches next to me. But I don’t care. I’m getting him out. Fully. And right now.
Bracken sucks his teeth and then leans back in his chair again, giving me a lazy smile. “Here’s the thing. When I agreed to lend Tristan money, it came with the condition that he work for me until he can pay it back.”
“But now he’s paying it back.”
“Hmm, yes, but I was still counting on his service for at least another two years.”
I squeeze my hand into a fist. God, I want to bury this guy. He truly lives up to his name. A snake through and through.
“But,” he continues. “I could be persuaded to release him from his duty early. For a price.”
Anger crackles through me, and I can barely keep the polite tone in my voice as I press out, “How much? ”
“Double.”
I choke on my breath. Double ? I have money, sure, but I don’t have that kind of money. At least not unless I go to my parents. But I seriously doubt that my dad would ever hand over so much as a cent in order to help get Tristan out of debt.
“It’s alright,” Tristan quickly says. “I will continue to work for you until I graduate. Thank you, sir, for allowing me to pay off the debt early.”
Another wave of fury crashes through me. No. No, it’s not alright . I don’t want Tristan stuck here for another two years, trapped underneath this dictatorial man’s heel.
I might not be able to beat up people who try to threaten him, but I protect the ones I care about too. In any way I can.
“What if you could get four years instead?” I blurt out before Tristan can start to drag me away.
Both of them freeze and then frown at me in confusion.
“What do you mean?” Mr. Bracken asks as he narrows his eyes at me.
“You let Tristan go today, two years early,” I say. “And in exchange, I will work for you for the next four years until I graduate.”
“No!” Tristan snaps as he whips his head towards me, staring at me in shock and disbelief. Then he turns to Bracken. “Thank you for your time, sir. We’re leaving now.”
But Mr. Bracken’s sharp gray eyes remain on me. “Tristan is a skilled punisher. What could you possibly offer that would make such a trade worth it?”
Before I can reply, Tristan grabs my wrist and starts pulling me towards the door.
I yank my wrist out of his grip and turn back to Bracken. “I’m a mayor’s daughter. I can sell your products in places none of your regular dealers can even get into. ”
“Elle, don’t,” Tristan snaps.
“There is a charity event hosted by the mayor of Bercester next weekend,” Bracken says, ignoring Tristan. “Show me what you can do.”
Hope pulses through me. “And if I pull it off, we have a deal?”
“No, you do not have a deal,” Tristan growls.
Bracken smiles a slow smile. “Yes, if you pull it off, we have a deal.”