CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SYLVIE
Zara peeks her head in through the cracked-open bedroom door. “You can’t hide out forever.”
“You can come in.” I glance up from my laptop screen—a new one since Cash took my old computer and personal phone, replacing them in case there were bugs or cloning apps on either—and I smile at her. “I’m not hiding.”
It’s the truth. Mostly. I’m doing recon. That I’ve already done. But it pays to be thorough. They all had work to do, so there was no reason to be in the way. And the past few days have been a lot. Something shifted last night. In Cash at least. I’m not sure where my head is at.
Bonding with his family was both comforting and scary.
It’d been a long time since I’d let anyone in.
I enjoyed being part of their chat and plotting to pull one over on Cash.
I wholeheartedly believed that he’d done his share of taunting over the years, and it was clear that despite that, their scheming was all in good fun.
How much they love him was apparent in how they respected me, allowing me to weigh in and make the call on everything they were doing.
Even the weird Venn diagram was left up to me.
I thought it was hilarious, but I was also still convinced that Cash would lose interest in pursuing something more with me once we got here.
How long can a guy like that hold out for a faint possibility with a city full of women ready to throw themselves at him?
But now I’m not so sure.
When he told me all bets were off, his eyes burned with steely determination. Maybe my best plan is to let him have me so he moves on. That’s probably not my sound judgment talking. It’s something much lower. His mouth has a way of turning everything upside down.
“No?” Zara challenges as she saunters inside. She’s elegant and regal, like an Old Hollywood actress with her thick mahogany hair and refined style, but there’s still a playful nature to her. “That’s good. Because we’re kidnapping you.”
“We’re?” I question.
In answer, Remy barrels through the door, bounces off every hard surface in sight, narrowly avoiding Cash’s vintage playing card collection, then leaps through the air and lands on the bed.
He’s being chased by Bernard, a spunky bulldog.
I’ve been told that’s also the grandfatherly concierge’s name.
I’m not a hundred percent sure about that.
Most of my arrival has been digesting their chaotic life and their luxurious space—they have a Picasso downstairs and countless other pristine pieces. I’m just gripping what I can.
“Hey, buddy.” I set my laptop on the bedside table and ruffle his hair. “You’re kidnapping me?”
“No.” He giggles into the mattress. “Mama, Aunt Tessa, and Aunt Zara are. I’m watching a movie with Daddy.”
“I guess that will do.” I pout my lips at him. “But only if you promise to hang with me another day.”
His hazel eyes twinkle with a hint of Noire mischief before he somersaults to the headboard. “Uncle Cash said you can fly.”
I scrunch my forehead, not sure what he’s referring to. “Well, I did fly here.”
“Aunt Zara can fly too. And flip.”
“He means tumbling,” Zara explains, but she doesn’t get a chance to elaborate.
“Sorry about that.” Mercy wanders in, holding her belly. “He’s faster than me these days.” She frowns, her lips nearly meeting her chin. “So is Bernard.”
“Both Bernards,” Tessa jokes behind her, which earns her a teasing backhand from her pregnant sister-in-law.
Mercy makes her way to the love seat near the wall of windows that offers a view of the city at sunset.
And I stuff down the ache in my chest that seeing her so close to her due date evokes.
It’s been about two years since I lost the baby, so the pain is duller than it used to be, but it’s still there.
Not that I’m not happy for her. She’s so cute with Remy, clearly a wonderful mom.
She’s sweet too. Last night, she stopped by after I took my shower, just to be sure I didn’t need anything, and offered something I wouldn’t have requested.
“They’ve never brought women back here. Any of them.
Just in case you wondered. I’ve been around—on and off—since they first moved in here.
” Her attention flitted to Cash’s bed. “That’s always been the rule. ”
It was a concern I hadn’t permitted myself to fret over when I first settled in, but the relief that washed over me was hard to ignore.
None of that should matter. I’m here because I have a job to do, an association I’d like to disentangle from, a New York apartment that’s being watched, and a mother who’s pretending to travel. That’s it.
Staying alive and out of prison should be my only priorities.
Emphasizing that point, my burner buzzes from the bedside table with another attempt from E because I texted him about a change of plans, but I’m not ready to answer him. Just the thought has the room shrinking around me.
On that note, I keep my focus where it needs to be. “I’m not sure I can be kidnapped right now. Axel wanted to meet with me tonight, and it’s probably best that I see if he can help.”
“He’ll definitely be able to help.” Zara flops down on the maroon comforter. “But he’s had a terrible day, so he wants to reschedule for the morning. Which is perfect because we’re headed to the Underground.”
“It’s Big Top night,” Tessa supplies. “Also known as the Noires and their employees playing asinine circus games.”
I shake my head, still baffled at how this resort caters to the gritty underworld while celebrating life with such whimsical entertainment. “This is what you all do on a random weeknight?”
“It was actually scheduled for a week and a half from now, but Cash worked his ass off to move it up.” Mercy tries her damnedest to bite back a smile, unsuccessfully. “Someone might even jump to the conclusion that he was hoping to show off for you.”
“Show off?” As I parrot those words, everything that was just mentioned crashes into me. “The Noires and their employees—Cash is competing?”
“Yep.” Zara nods. “Maddox and Jax too.”
A peek at the Underground is tempting, and Cash competing is even more enticing. “Does it matter that I’m not an employee?”
Tessa’s doll-like face brightens as she tucks her silver hair behind her ear. “You want to play?”
“Asinine circus games? Hell yes.” I look at Remy, who’s bouncing in his own personal euphoria. “Rumor has it, I can fly.”
“Hmm.” Mercy side-eyes me, her grin bursting this time. “Someone might draw the conclusion that you’d like to face off against Cash.” She pauses for effect. “And crush him.”
“People like to speculate around here, huh?” I push off the bed and head to my suitcase to find something cute but comfortable to wear—yoga pants, a tank top, and a tie-front cardigan will do.
“No worries.” Zara laughs. “A face-off is exactly what we’ve been looking for. You’re hired.”
College wasn’t the let-loose experience for me that many people have. It was filled with rigorous training, so parties were a firm no. I’m starting to think that was an oversight because I am the champion of asinine circus games. Well, not quite, but I’m on my way.
So far, I have proven my expertise at the handstand showdown.
The only one close to beating me in that was Jax.
I think he may have forfeited because he wanted his joint, but I stood my ground and outlasted him nonetheless.
The balance beam race was a breeze. Of course, that was when the rumors about Cash bringing in a ringer started.
I announced that I wasn’t here for the prize—which is a day at the spa—explaining that my only motive was to prove I was a superior competitor to Cash Noire.
I also said that if I won, I’d give it to the runner-up and even donate a second day to a random employee in attendance. That made me very popular.
By the time I conquered the game Don’t Drop the Balloon While Tumbling, I gained an entire fan base.
As I’m gulping down water to prepare for the final event, Cash swaggers toward me.
It’s noisy. “Blurred Lines” is blaring from the sound system.
People in the crowd are prattling and drinking.
And the performers that have made it to this final round are warming up.
So, when he erases all the space between us, I don’t make a big deal out of it.
Or give too much credence to the swoop in my belly.
He grips my hip and brings his mouth to my ear, his scruff tickling my jaw. “I wasn’t planning on you competing tonight, Sly. I thought it would be fun for you to hang out with the girls.” His hand migrates to the small of my back. “I’m worried about your ankle, so let’s call it.”
I should probably step away, but it’s as though I’m frozen in his embrace. “I wrapped my ankle, and I’ve competed on injuries far worse than this.”
“For competitions that meant far more.” He glides his knuckle beneath my chin, tipping my head up, compassion swimming in his ocean eyes. “You’ve already proven yourself, and you have a lot on your plate.”
Logically, that makes sense. I can’t afford to have any hiccups in my upcoming jobs. And yet …
“Who are you to assign importance? Maybe I see this as the most vital event of my life.”
His forehead wrinkles. “Do you?”
“I’ve had a really good time.” The weight of that truth slams into my chest, so I expound on it. “More than … it’s nice not to be overwhelmed. For a minute at least.”
I’m rambling, less composed than I ever am.
Maybe that would be warranted upstairs. The girls and I strolled through the resort on the way down here tonight, and it is admittedly intimidating.
The sheer formidability of the clientele is enough to rattle anyone, but add to it the grand decor, Prohibition-inspired opulence, and secret passageways, and the entire picture is imposing.