CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
That isn’t the case in the Underground. It’s purely the man before me.
We’re in a massive room, filled with his employees, but this exchange feels intimate.
My nerves are frazzled. If he helps me out of this bind, lets me get attached to his family, and keeps touching me and kissing me and talking to me so sweetly, it will wreck me.
I’ve had casual flings or even one-night stands, but they were always with guys who only offered a surface-level attraction.
Cash is going to woo me with the image of something deeper so he gets what he wants, but then his interest will wane, and I’ll be left broken. Again.
Not that he’d intend to hurt me. That much is clear.
“I’m glad you’re having a good time. You’ve ruled this whole night.
” His chest rises and falls against mine as he smooths a wisp of my hair back, his blues rollicking all over my face.
“Born to be a queen.” Then he kisses my temple with a sweet possessiveness that swipes the tabled idea of decimating our newfound friendship onto the floor. “Be careful, but go claim your prize.”
He winks as he walks away, his dimple glinting with arrogance, as if he’s proud of the internal war he’s inflicting. Maybe he was hoping to throw me off my game. All the more reason to win it all. Especially since nearly every damn female gaze in this place tracks him. And they’re salivating.
Cash’s sisters-in-law crowd around me, revving me up, like my very own entourage, but a new face appears with them.
“I’m Amy.” She shakes my hand. “Unlike the rest of the room, I decided to introduce myself rather than gossip from afar.” That’s an interesting approach—one I wasn’t expecting, though she is one of the only women here not drooling over Cash.
“I’ve been excited to meet you. I’m La Lune Noire’s head stylist and personal shopper.
Cash arranged for a whole new wardrobe for you. ”
“A whole new wardrobe?” I repeat.
“The Noire men love to spoil their girls, so—”
“I’m not his girl,” I interrupt her again because I’m instantly lightheaded. “We’re just friends.”
“He said that too.” She laughs, and so do Mercy, Tessa, and Zara. “But,” she goes on, “he said it in a funny way, and … well, let’s just say, there’s a reason everyone is captivated by you tonight, and it’s not just your impressive skills at our stupid games.”
When I cock my eyebrow in a do-tell command, Zara’s face lights up.
“They’re looking at you because of how he looked at you.” Her brightness morphs into dark ambition. “But that should have no bearing on you winning this.”
“We wagered a lot on you taking the whole damn thing,” Tessa provides.
“That puppy-love expression can be used to our advantage. The guys are always beating us at cards or performing stunts.” She throws her thumb toward Zara.
“As far as the stunts, this one can keep up with them, but rarely chooses to. You’ll balance us out. ”
“Queen energy,” Mercy adds.
There’s far more to digest from all of that than I care to, but I think Cash’s little visit about my ankle may have been born out of his need to triumph over his sisters-in-law.
“Fine.” I clap my hands. “Queen energy it is. Cash said I was born to be one anyway. Let’s use it to dethrone him.”
Mercy covers her mouth with her fingertips, only to gasp when Tessa elbows her. And Amy giggles.
“Ignore them,” Zara says. “Go own that tramp wall.”
On my way, a gentleman in his sixties stops me. “Miss Palmer,” he drawls. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Bernard, the head concierge here. Feel free to ask me for anything you need.”
Bernard—the bulldog’s namesake.
“It’s nice to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Undoubtedly.” He chuckles, scratching his salt-and-pepper beard, his kind brown eyes assessing me. “I knew your father. Not well, I suppose, but I met him a few times.”
“I assumed he came here. My mother has always been swept up in the Noire magic.”
“From what I remember, he was pretty swept up in her,” he says, and that might be one of the best depictions anyone has ever granted me. “He called her Silver, right?”
“He did.” My throat squeezes around the words.
That nickname was how they settled on my name—because it was so similar—but no one’s mentioned it in a long time. I can picture my father bragging about her though.
“He was a good man. He came here on a few occasions when it was more treacherous, before Axel took over. Some associates of his were members, and he was invited as a guest. But he was wise not to become entwined then.” He swings his attention to Cash, Maddox, and Jax, who are bouncing on the trampoline to the beat of “Ghetto Supastar (That is What You Are),” which aptly depicts his next point.
“It’s far different now. You’re in good hands. ”
“Thank you, Bernard.”
“Of course. It’s an honor to have you here.” He kicks his chin toward the bouncing trio. “I’m looking forward to this.”
With that, he’s on his way, and I enter the final event of the evening. Aside from the three Noires, there are also six employees—all La Lune Noire performers.
The game is BOX, and the concept is simple.
It’s like PIG in basketball. There’s a tall platform, towering above a trampoline.
The first player determines the trick. Each of the following competitors must complete it.
Failure to be able to do so results in a letter.
We spend about twenty minutes warming up and getting a feel for the height and bounce. Then it’s time.
Jax goes first—one front tuck into a big bounce before sticking a landing in a square on the top of the platform. About half of us stick it as well. Maddox, Cash, and I are all in that group.
The next trick is an aerial flip into a bounce that leads to a second push from the platform into another bounce before landing in the square.
Jax leads with it, but misses the square slightly.
Only one of the cabaret girls and I manage that one, and she was behind on the first, so going into the next trick, I’m the only one without a letter.
This is a far cry from the NCAA Championships or the Olympics, but I can’t deny the exhilaration coursing through my veins.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so invigorated.
The high is similar to a well-executed heist, but there isn’t much fanfare there.
I forgot how enlivening it is to have a room full of people cheering for you.
Since I get to lead with the trick this time, I ask one of the guys helping with setup to bring me an actual box. He grabs one that’s about half the size of the taped-off square, and Cash shakes his head.
“Don’t be a show-off, Sly.”
He could be worried about my ankle, or maybe he’s realizing he’s going to lose his jackpot to his sisters-in-law. Either way, I’m not backing down.
“Don’t be a wuss, Noire.” I unleash a goading grin before I stand right in front of the box at the edge of the platform, swan-dive into a corkscrew, bounce off the trampoline, touch the platform with both toes, roll into a double flip, and bounce to fly up and land inside the box.