by K. Webster
I notice the tiny black device taped to the side of the bottle. While I chatter about the actors in the movie, I set a dark bottle in front of the bottle with the device on it, blocking its view. We carry on our talking on our way toward the bedroom. Keaton leans in and closes the door. The movie plays a muffled sound while we tiptoe back to the entryway. He takes our drinks, sets them down soundlessly on the table by the door, and quietly turns the lock. It’s understood we need to be silent, so neither of us speak as we sneak out of the apartment. Keaton locks it back and then grabs my elbow, motioning me away from the elevator and toward a stairwell. It’s not until we’re about five flights down and I’m panting, does Keaton speak.
“Neither Win nor Perry are answering, but that’s to be expected,” he says in a low tone. “I texted them to let them know we’re leaving.”
“Where are we going to?” I ask, my chest panting with exertion.
He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you in the car.”
I glance over my shoulder, paranoid that Nate is following, but no one is there. It’s smart not to announce where we’re going, though. I bite on my lip and nod. By the time we’ve made it down the million flights of stairs, Keaton has called the valet to bring his car to a side door. We head opposite of the lobby and out the door once we reach the first floor. Outside, a tricked-out black Range Rover waits at the curb. A valet tosses Keaton his keys and Keaton hands him a wad of hundreds. We both climb in and Keaton gets us the hell out of there.
“This is my fault,” I grumble, lungs still screaming in protest at us going the long way down from Win’s. “I let Nate in. I thought he was allowed to be there.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Nate had a key,” Keaton grunts, “but the fact he’s watching what goes on in Winston’s house is fucking creepy.”
“But he doesn’t have a key. And why would he be doing that? What’s his problem? Is he trying to catch me doing something?” I ask, frustration bleeding in my words. “You saw how much he hates me.”
“I don’t know, but my brother won’t be happy.”
“I feel like an idiot.”
Keaton sighs as he puts on his blinker. “People are always out to get us, Ash. Always. When I’m at Pembroke, it’s different. I sometimes forget about how ruthless this city is. But, every holiday and summer, I’m reminded. Now that you’re Winston’s girlfriend, his enemies become your enemies. It’s just the way things are.”
“But Nate is his best friend. His beef is with me, not Win, right?”
Keaton scoffs. “Anyone who messes with Winston’s things has beef with my brother. He doesn’t take that shit lightly.”
“I prefer girlfriend over things,” I huff out.
“My point is it won’t matter that Nate is his best friend. This is a gross abuse of Winston’s trust.” Keaton shrugs. “He’s possessive over you. If he thinks this is a threat against you, he’ll retaliate in kind.”
“I don’t know,” I argue, “I tried to tell him Nate’s an asshole of epic proportions and shady. We fought over it. He left me and basically ignored me for days.”
“Hmm.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “That was probably every Constantine’s first word.”
He shakes his head, though he’s amused. “We’re going to the Constantine Compound. I texted Perry and Winston both to give them the update. We can hang out there until they finish.”
“With your mother. Yay,” I deadpan.
“I’m sure Mother will be busy planning whose life she’s going to destroy next,” Keaton mutters. “Tinsley will be happy to see us, though.”
“Will my bird be okay at Win’s?”
“Francis is there. She’ll keep an eye on him.”
“What do you think Nate wanted inside for?”
“Besides catching you saying or doing something to prove you’re a money-thieving bitch, I don’t know.”
“I think he’s been looking for something. Not just on me.” I frown as I look out the window. “When he showed up, both times he wanted to go upstairs to use Winston’s towel warmer.”
“Winston doesn’t have a towel warmer.”
I flash him a grin. “He does now.”
“I will never in a million years understand your relationship with him, but if we’re basing it on what I’ve gathered and the never-ending news clips, it’s super fucked up.”
“Gee. Thanks. But you’re right. Totally fucked up.”
“And you’re happy about that…” He laughs. “He joked about putting your bird in his will. That’s not the brother I know.”
“He’s pretty amazing when he stops acting like a total and complete dick.”
“So Nate’s been snooping around in Winston’s room? Looking for what? To borrow a boring-ass necktie?”
“I’m not sure but he convinced me twice he needed to go up there and I let him.” I hate that I can be so blind sometimes. “No wonder Win looked at me like I had three heads when I told him Nate came by. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Why didn’t he say anything?”
“Because my brother holds his cards close to the vest. He doesn’t typically go out guns blazing on a hunch. If he thought something was shady, he’d investigate it endlessly until he was ready to move.”
“Like dominoes,” I say absently. “Perry said the same thing. He’s calculating and a master strategist.”
“When he gets done wiping the floor with the Morellis, he can confront Nate and see what the hell is his problem. Whatever Nate is doing needs to be addressed.”
I chew on my bottom lip, thinking. “Do you think it was Nate who tipped off the press?”
“But it was Scout who called Win, right?”
“Connected?”
“Doubtful. Nate might be up to some shit, but he doesn’t associate with little assholes like the Mannford triplets.”
“Leo Morelli does. Associate, I mean. With the Terror Triplets.”
“Leo’s trash like the rest of the Morellis,” he says simply. “Nate wouldn’t risk his friendship with my brother to go behind his back with them. That’s like the ultimate sin in Winston’s book.”
“Trust me,” I grumble. “I know.”
I wish I had my phone or my purse. It’d give me something to do other than wring my hands together as I try to piece together the mess that is my life. I ache for Winston to finish up with Leo and come back to me. In the past, I might have relied on my father if I were afraid or worried, but lately, it’s Win who keeps popping up as my knight in shining armor.
“Don’t worry,” Keaton assures me. “Whatever it is, Win will figure it out. He’s good at that shit—good at everything if I’m being real. Don’t tell him I said it though. I’ll deny it to the death.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Jokes aside, he’s right.
Winston Constantine is the king of this godforsaken city for a reason.
Because no matter what, he always lands on top.
This time, it’ll be with me and our bird.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Winston
I wait until the waiter has dropped off an appetizer the Morellis ordered. They busy themselves with piling bruschetta onto their plates. Tension fills the air, but I sip my wine as though I don’t have a care in the world.
Truth is, I have lots of things worrying me, but I’ll be damned if I give off any vibes to these bottom feeders.
Perry discreetly shows me his phone. It’s a couple of messages from Keaton.
Keaton: Me and Ash have to bail.
And then, a few minutes later.
Keaton: On way to CC. We’re fine but call me as soon as you can. Cameras at your place, so don’t go home.
As much as I want to start demanding to know what the hell happened, I pretend as though the texts don’t have me on the verge of losing my mind. I give Perry a nod of acknowledgment. He puts his phone away and together we watch the Morellis plow their way through the bruschetta.
“I know y
ou’re friends with the Mannford triplets,” I say to Leo, just as he’s swallowing a gulp of his wine.
“Teenagers? No, that’s more your style, Constantine.”
“The twatlets let you into their house the night of my birthday party. That’s when you stole Ash’s phone.” I cock my head to the side, bullying my way inside his mind with just one penetrative stare. “They’re your buddies.”
“Hardly,” Leo says, his tone mocking. “After the night we saw each other in the club, let’s just say I had a sudden interest to know everything there was about Winston Constantine’s new plaything. When I learned she had brothers, I contacted them to get more information on her and her connection to you. We met up and that was that.”
You met up with them and conspired to terrorize her together like some sort of douchebag gang.
“Why would you even give a shit about me?” I ask.
“You really don’t know, do you?” A hard smile crosses Leo’s face. “The things you don’t know about your own family would shock you, Winston. It’s not about you. It never was. I’m not surprised your mother never told her favorite son all her dirty secrets.”
Lucian cuts in before Leo can say anymore. “As entertaining as this gossip hour is, can you get to the point?”
“The point is,” I say, my glare still locked on Leo, “your brother here isn’t the only one threatening Ash. The Mannford monsters are out of control.”
The lawyer chooses to speak. “The Mannfords are not the Morellis’ problem.”
“When they’re threatening Ash under Leo’s direction, they do become their problem,” I clip out. “Just this evening, Scout Mannford threatened Ash’s life.”
Leo’s eyes are narrowed. “I’m sorry to hear that your soon-to-be child bride has been getting her feelings hurt by her evil stepbrothers, but it’s still not our problem. Have fun proving in court that it is. This is reaching and you know it.”
I remain in a staring match with the head Morelli. His arrogance ripens the air with each passing second. If he wants to gloat on a win he hasn’t won, I’ll allow him his moment. Probably been having wet dreams for years for this very second in time. As the silence stretches on, his smugness fades and apprehension glints in his dark eyes.
That’s right, fucker, you forgot who you’re sitting across from.
I smirk, taking a long swallow of my wine. Cracking my neck, I allow the silence to continue to drag. In the distance, the dull murmur of couples having a romantic dinner can be heard. But at our table it’s so quiet you can hear the faint strains of the piano out in the lobby.
The waiter returns with our meals. I’m patient as I wait for everyone to get situated. The delicious aromas have my stomach growling, but I’ll deal with that later. One by one, the men cut into their meat so the waiter can ensure they’re cooked to their specification. Once the waiter scurries off, I wait for them to begin their meal. Lucian cuts off a hunk of his filet and shoves it into his mouth. He’s barely started chewing when I decide to speak again.
“The Mannford triplets are your problem because, spoiler alert, they belong to you.” I grin at Lucian who growls. “Well, not you specifically, but your uncle, Vincent.”
Anthony opens the file folder, takes hold of the pictures and documents Ulrich sent to him, and bypasses their lawyer to hand them to Leo. He snatches them from Anthony’s grip to glower at what we’ve provided.
Evidence.
And lots of it.
Manda Mannford was one of Vincent Morelli’s young mistresses while she was in college. It took some digging on Ulrich’s part, but he produced photos of the two of them kissing and handholding, many hotel receipts, and monetary gifts to Manda all around the time she found out she was pregnant. Everything stopped not long after she went to the doctor to confirm her pregnancy. There are surveillance photos of Manda with Vincent the evening of her doctor appointment walking into a restaurant together. The next day, the two of them met up with his attorney. Based on the documentation pilfered by Ulrich, Manda left that law office a million dollars richer, had three education funds set up, and was the owner of a new Porsche. All to keep quiet about who the father of her babies was.
“What’s your play, Constantine?” Lucian demands since his brother is still flipping through the documentation.
It pleases me greatly that they’re all neglecting their juicy steaks, letting them grow cold as they try to make sense of the mindfuck I just dropped in their laps. Even if it means my steak also turns cold and rubbery.
“I already told you. I want Ash left alone. That’s what I always wanted.”
“This is all illegally obtained information,” Leo says.
“Which is why I’m coming to you first,” I say smoothly. “We wouldn’t want the press to get ahold of this because they won’t care how they got the information. Imagine what other secrets they might uncover if they look too closely.” I shake my head. “Coming from someone who recently experienced a scandal, I must say it’s expensive and time consuming. But where I can staunch the financial bleeding, what exactly can a Morelli do? Your best bet is cutting it off at the pass.”
Sure, they have money, but they also have more dirty, dark secrets.
“What do you want?” Leo demands. “You have the building and my word that the media will be dealt with regarding your sex scandal and the promise I will leave your girlfriend alone.” He growls. “But that’s not enough, is it? Spoiled little shit. I should call your bluff and make you drag this into court. See if you like what secrets would be uncovered about your mother.”
Ignoring his dig, I shrug and polish off the rest of my wine. I flick two fingers at Lucian. “I want you to claim them.”
Lucian’s jaw clenches, rage rippling from him. “The Mannford triplets?”
“Now, Mr. Constantine,” the lawyer begins, huffing, “my client will not—”
“I don’t care how it’s done, but I want you to put the triplets under Morelli control. They’re your cousins after all,” I grind out, ignoring the attorney. “Right now, they’re useless with their idle threats because they can’t hardly fucking walk, but when they can again, rest assured, they’ll continue to terrorize Ash. Leo got the ball rolling when he conspired with them and now you’re going to finish what he started.”
Leo started this shit and we’re not leaving until they’ve agreed to deal with it. It’s strange that he’s looking at me with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, as if he actually wanted this outcome. As if he knows something that I don’t.
“What else do you have in your folder?” Lucian says, his tone hard. “What other surprises should I be looking forward to?”
“That’s all,” I say with a wicked smirk, “for now anyway.”
“We’ll have to verify these claims first. Paternity tests.”
“Take your time. They won’t be walking for a few weeks anyway.” I push my chair out and stand. “But once you confirm what we already know based on your uncle’s history with sleeping around, deal with them. They’re reckless and out of control. I don’t want them near my…girlfriend.”
No sense in denying it now. By claiming her officially, they’ll definitely be forced to back the fuck off or I will unleash every power to destroy them that I have in my arsenal.
I give the Morellis another minute before I walk around the table to stand beside Lucian. Two of their meathead musclemen take a step forward but I’m not worried about them. Xavier could handle them with his eyes closed if push came to shove. Leo’s shoulders are tense and Lucian glowers at me as though he can melt me with his glare alone.
Me.
The man frozen solid in cold, hard apathy.
There aren’t enough fires in this world to make that happen.
I hold my hand out to Lucian. Where Leo needed a written agreement and he still reneged on it, people like Lucian and me, prefer to shake on it. A man’s word is binding. We’re both the oldest sons in our families.
“I’m calling a temporary tr
uce,” I tell him. “I will back off on all things Morelli once the Baldridge building is back in my name.”
“And…” Lucian implores, making no move to lift his hand.
“All you have to do is keep the triplet fuckwads in your territory, under your rule.”
“Is that all?” Lucian mocks.
“It’s very simple. If you don’t and those assholes come after my girlfriend, the truce will be off. Not only will it be off, but I’ll see it as an act of war. You do not want to go to war with me.”
I will make it my entire mission to destroy each of their lives one by one until they have nothing left but regret that they let a rare truce from a Constantine slip through their meaty grip.
Lucian makes me wait for almost a minute longer. I stand there, nonplussed, hand waiting in the air as he eyes it like it’s a loaded gun. Finally, he juts out a hand despite his attorney’s grumble of argument. I shake the hand of a man I hate—the family my dad hated too. This feels like a dirty deal and the urge to wash my hands is strong, but it’s necessary. Our parents may have started this feud, but it’s up to us to keep the peace.
Morelli is just another bastard in a corrupt city that runs on filth and greed.
The deal he made is with the devil who runs everything with an iron fist.
“Evening, boys,” I say after we shake on it. I drop a couple of hundred-dollar bills to cover the meal, letting them rain down on Leo’s cold steak. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
Perry follows me but Anthony lingers, probably to finalize any details on his end. Xavier and Todd remain with him in case he needs backup. It’s not until we’re in the elevator and going down does Perry finally speak.
“Holy fuck,” he breathes. “That was intense. What was that shit Leo was saying about our mother?”
“I don’t know,” I admit as unease pools in my stomach. I should call your bluff and make you drag this into court. See if you like what secrets would be uncovered about your mother. “It’s probably nothing. Bullshit and lies.”
