CHAPTER FOURTEEN #3
“Holy shit,” I hiss, elated I pulled it off, as everyone jumps to their feet, whistling and screaming.
Zara, Tessa, and Mercy are among the loudest, but so are my fellow competitors.
Maddox adjusts his onyx man bun and pulls me into a side hug. “You stole the fucking show, Little Bandit.”
And Jax dips his chin. “Mad respect.”
My heart hammers my sternum, thrill washing over me as I soak up the moment. Since I didn’t have any letters, they determine me the winner.
Cash steps up to the microphone, his charming fuckboy bravado in full swing—dark blond hair pristinely mussed, cerulean blues sparkling with mischief, muscles swole from his stunts, and dress pants and a fitted T-shirt hugging that sculpted frame because even acrobatics require mob-adjacent attire.
“What’s the number one rule of the Underground? ”
“Never tell Axel and Ryker,” the room chants in response, and I have to wonder how the oldest Noires feel about that.
Their wives seem delighted, which has me snickering.
“And the second most important rule?” Cash asks.
“Nothing’s more exclusive than Noire Underground.”
“That’s right,” he commends, pointing at all of them. “You are La Lune Noire. But before we drink and conspire, I’ve got one more thing. What did I tell you before Sylvie got down here?”
That has me intrigued because everyone is laughing and clapping.
“I told you she’d win it all, didn’t I? What Sylvie doesn’t know is that her prize was never going to be the spa day.” He holds up his hand. “We will still allow her to donate the two she offered. But we should tell her what she won.”
He flashes that suave smile at me and holds the mic out to the crowd.
“Cash,” they all roar in unison before confetti bursts into the air and the song “Dirty Cash (Money Talks)” bellows from the speakers.
He, Maddox, and Jax all bust out some synchronized moves to the beat of the music and a melody of whoops. I can’t keep from laughing. He’s relentless and ridiculous.
And I’m in trouble.
Once the rest of the Underground starts dancing or returns to drinking and chatting, Cash grabs my hand and guides me down the ladder.
He throws on his suit jacket and whisks me over to the girls, who all make a huge fuss over me.
We have a few cocktails to celebrate, and I extend some credit to him and his brothers.
They were far more skilled than I would’ve thought.
He makes a theatrical production of paying what he owes to his sisters-in-law.
And they each slap half of what he paid to them into a pile and hand it to me.
“I guess I really did win cash,” I tease, shoving it into the bra cup of my tank top.
“That you did.” He smirks.
Maddox is full-on fondling his wife in what appears to be public foreplay disguised as a dance. She smacks his groping hand, but gives in and sways with him. They’re over the top, completely in love, and impossible to ignore.
Cash seems to admire them, too, before he glances at the time. “It’s getting late. Ready to go?”
We say our goodbyes to everyone and make our way up to the penthouse.
I am both on top of the world and sick to my stomach because I am so drawn to this man, but not equipped to deal with losing anything else.
I also don’t want things to be weird though, and I’m certain he’s going to push the notion of breaking this fake friendship now that we’re alone.
But when we get to the top of the staircase, right where I’ll turn to go to his room, he leans against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles, which makes it clear he doesn’t intend to follow me.
“It’s just after midnight. Happy birthday, Palmer.”
All the air leaves my lungs. “You knew it was …” I think back on how the girls told me he moved this event up a week and a half. “This … you did this for me?”
“I didn’t let you win, if that’s what you’re asking.
You did that far beyond what I’d envisioned.
You were brilliant.” He slides his hand in his pocket, a move that conveys his easy confidence and has him rivaling the top GQ models.
“I wasn’t sure about you competing—not until the girls texted us.
But either way, I thought it would be nice for you to see you could have friends here and that your talent could still be used for fun. We’re not the Globetrotters, but …”
He listened and delivered. That’s a mic-drop move and not at all what I was anticipating when he said all bets were off.
“That was probably the best present anyone has ever given me then.” I press my palm to my sternum, willing my heart to stop pounding. “It was exactly what I needed.”
“Good, but that wasn’t your present. Gifts are tomorrow.” He strides toward Maddox’s room. “Get some sleep, Sly.”
Maybe it’s the high from doing something I loved and winning tonight, or the confidence garnered from hanging out with women who seemed so supportive, or watching a sexy man swagger away from me and feeling empowered to change his direction, but whatever the reason, I’m compelled to share a realization.
“I don’t think sleep is what I need, Cash.”