by Mallory Fox
Even if I tore it up.
She’s bloody mine.
And like that the lunch is over and we’re all getting to our feet.
Levi offers me his hand to shake. I take it, giving him a tight smile, squeezing his palm a little too hard. I’m taller than him as I lean in to return the pat on the arms we’re giving each other to make Pearl happy.
“Just to be clear. If you screw us over in any way, I’m going to rip your fucking asshole out of your throat after I gut you from neck to groin,” I say, under my breath so Pearl can’t hear.
He grins, returning the vice like grip on my arm. “Likewise, I’ll do the same to you if you hurt her again, you fucking whore of shit.”
We break from out male posturing and Pearl takes my arm as we say our goodbyes and walk away, back inside the museum.
My shoulders are tense, and I need a cigarette. “I don’t fucking trust that guy.” And I’m going to have to give up smoking now I’m a goddam dad.
“He’s a sweetheart, and we have no choice,” Pearl says softly.
“Just tell me you never fucking slept with that dickhead.” If she has, I’ll deal with it. But I hope to God she hasn’t.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re bloody adorable when you’re jealous.”
I stop and take her by her chin, turning her to me in the middle of the Louvre’s grand staircase close the main entrance. In my pocket is the ceremony paperwork and on her hand is a diamond declaring to the world that she’s mine. But it’s not enough. “One day, when all of this is over, I’m going to propose to you for real. This isn’t just a game to me. Do you understand?” Not anymore.
She nods, her hazel eyes wide, lips parted. “Just don’t leave it too long, Romeo, Levi might get in there first.”
She strides off, giving me a cute smile over her shoulder. I follow behind, smacking her ass in front of all the tourists, making her yelp. It’s only when we get into the foyer that I notice a figure following us. Speeding up, I take Pearl by the arm. “Don’t look now but someone is following us.”
She stiffens but doesn’t look back, allowing me to steer her out of the museum and through the sightseeing crowds in the plaza and into a waiting car on the road. The figure, all in black wearing wraparound shades over his head, is standing in front of the glass pyramid watching us drive off as we go.
Instantly, I fucking recognize him.
How could I not. Even with his shades on.
My old nemesis, from my training days at Blackheath and later my posting in Northern Ireland… fucking Ambrose Eden Rothschild.
Aka Aruba.
Pearl is asleep when I get Aruba’s message and location. I leave her a note, grab my jacket from the selection of clothes delivered that the staff moved into the wardrobe while we were out, and take the service elevator down to the car park.
Wishing I had a more inconspicuous car, I drive toward the Canal Saint-Martin district and leave it in a side street there, hoping it’s still there when I come back. The wine bar Aruba has chosen is dingy as fuck. I pause before going inside and light up a cigarette.
I need to stop for a minute. I also need to think about what I’m doing. Not for the first time do I wonder If I’ll come out of this meeting alive. It’s been two years since I saw Aruba last. The very last time he shot me in the goddam chest and almost killed me. I know he had orders. I just assumed our brotherhood meant more. Turns out I was wrong.
Like I said, he’s a fucking asshole.
I stub out my smoke and take a breath. Inside is just as dark and seedy as the outside. I spot him immediately as I walk in, nursing a dark beer at the far end of the bar, working his way through a bag of peanuts. I take a seat at the bar next to him and order a beer. I’m not in the mood to drink but Aruba will take offense if I don’t have one with him. It’s tradition after all.
He waits until I get my drink and then we toast.
“You took your fucking sweet time, Barbie, rich wanker-life making you soft, mate?”
I take a swig of my beer and shake my head. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you dead right now?”
He chuckles, shells a peanut and eats it. “Still sour about that? Ah now, you know I missed on purpose. You’re still walking around, aren’t you?”
I shoot him a dark look. “No thanks to you.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “You wanted out. I got you out.” Since the first day he dragged me out of my cot at the academy, Aruba was working for Marcel. Toughening me up, until the day I’d had enough, and he fucking shot me in the chest.
I don’t believe for one minute he did it out the kindness of his heart. Have you ever been shot? Even if you don’t die, it fucking kills.
“And now? Why are you here? Has Marcel sent you to finish the job?”
He sighs. “No. I don’t work for that bastard anymore. The old sod hasn’t paid me for the last job I did for him.”
I’m frowning now. “Then who do you work for?”
He grins, flashing his teeth. “No one right now.’
“So why the fuck are you following us?” I say, jaw clenched.
“Let’s just say we have a mutual friend who wants me to help you. You need something and I can help you get it. In return, our friend wants what you don’t want anymore.”
Aruba’s cryptic messages are getting on my nerves. I get to my feet, scraping the chair back. I’ve had enough. “Our mutual friend should fucking ask me himself.”
Aruba grins. “Oh, he will.” He takes his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Now sit the fuck down.”
“You’ve got to be fucking joking me,” I hiss under my breath as I take the phone and hold it to my ear.
“Hello, cousin, now what was it you wanted? The keys to the cabin in the woods?”
Chapter 23
Pearl
Things are easier when you have money. Seth no longer suing me means I can relax. In a few weeks I’ll be gaining my half of the inheritance. Until then, I happily use Seth’s money to hire myself a team of people to organize my end of year project slash post-wedding celebration.
After Seth and I had made a statement to the press about our marriage. Seth thought it best we have a very public celebration, so that there is no doubt in Marcel’s mind that I belong to his grandson. And since I have the fundraiser to organize too, we decided to combine them.
Grams is going to kill me when I get home for not inviting her. I haven’t really told her about the marriage yet, but I will once this is over. Seth and I will tell her everything together. Today is not a real post wedding celebration anyway. For now, though, I’ve told her to ignore the papers until I can get home to explain. I want to tell her and Sophia properly and do things right when it finally happens for real, they deserve that at least,
It takes three weeks to pull everything together. Invitations sent out, caterers booked, flowers ordered, and models for the fashion show measured, dressed, and prepped. All that’s left is actual day itself.
The first person to turn up to the event hall of the very polished and very new Knife’s Edge, is Lana Langfield. I’m all smiles as soon as I see her and she returns the gesture as though we’re the best of friends.
“Pearl, darling. You look divine.”
“So do you,” I lie. I’m wearing a green, satin sweetheart mermaid dress with green Valentino’s and my hair in curls. Lana, once again, is in jeans like she hasn’t even bothered to make an effort. No matter, soon she’ll be in one of Lottie’s creations. My old school friend is one of the designers to be showcased tonight, among others.
We air kiss without any touching and I show her to a suite of rooms that she can use as her dressing room.
“Thank you for asking me to be the face of your event.”
“Of course, we’re all friends here.” Lies again.
No congratulations. No nothing.
What did I expect? I added her name last minute to the list my agency was working from to source talent for the l
ine-up, with a personal note from me mentioning that I want to let bygones be bygones and that Seth would love her to be there. She immediately said yes. And why not? Her career, from what I understand, is on the rocks and having the Princess of Pop as one of the headliners for my fundraiser to raise awareness for human trafficking will no doubt draw in the crowds. And the press.
Plus, it makes Seth happy that I’m trying to be friends with one of his best friends. Flick and the media got it wrong. They were never together in that way.
As soon as I get back on the event floor, Flick on Charlie’s arm, and Gabby alone, walk in. I hug my friends and show them where the drinks reception is on the terrace.
Gabby gives me a look. “Where is your husband? I want to slap him for not inviting us to the real wedding.” No matter how many times I tell them there was no real wedding, they don’t believe me.
“I could say the same to you,” I scoff. “Where is Alessé?”
She rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “Probably off murdering someone, what’s Seth’s excuse?”
“He’s probably doing the exact same thing,” I say, glancing at my phone in case there’s a message from Seth there.
Nothing. Where is he? Why isn’t he back yet. He was supposed to be here by now.
More guests have started arriving, gathering on the highest viewing platform in the city that has 360 degree views all over Paris. Illuminated with white lights and dotted with sleek modern seating, the effect is stunning. Levi has certainly outdone himself.
He’s also outdone the security. Everywhere I look are men in dark suits with ear-pieces and wide shoulders who keep staring at me. But when Seth’s family walk in, particularly Marcel and Constance, followed by Odette, Royce and Romain, I’m glad that Levi did.
Taking a deep breath, I stand my ground as Marcel, with Constance and Odette behind, approach me.
He doesn’t scare me. This is my party. Nothing they can do here can hurt me. There are no games here and no guns. Security at the door downstairs would have made sure of that.
I give Marcel one of my more level looks, ignoring the trickle of dread in my gut the moment his eyes fixate on mine. “So I’m guessing we have you to thank for the anonymous donation?”
Marcel inclines his head. “See it as a belated wedding gift.”
“Very generous of you,” I say, eyes flicking beyond him to where Romain and Royce are heading. Where are they going?
I draw my gaze back to Marcel to see his blue eyes burning holes into mine. “Now, where is my grandson?”
I give him a tight smile. “Seth will be here soon.” He’d better be. “Odette, can I borrow you for a minute?” I add, so obviously wanting to escape.
Seth’s cousin arches a brow but follows me to the bar as I lead the way.
“How bad is it?” I ask.
“Well, Marcel despises you but he’s more angry at Seth right now. Where is he anyway?”
“He’s on his way. This is his post-wedding party, after all,” I say with a shrug. “Are you going to tell me what Romain and Royce are up to?”
“Grandfather wants to check the security situation. You have asked everyone to leave their guns at reception to enter a party full of Levi’s men inside Baudelaire territory.”
It was purely intentional, but Odette doesn’t need to know that. I still don’t trust her entirely, even if she said she did it to save my life. She took me to that cabin knowing what would happen. Even if, apparently, she was the one who told Seth where to find me. There are texts from her on Seth’s phone but it looks like she waited until the very last second to send them.
I leave Odette at the bar and work the room, all the while looking for Seth’s cousins and wondering if Seth has managed to get out of Archamps yet. He hasn’t checked in with me all day so I’ve no idea if he’s succeeded or not, or how long I’m supposed to stall everyone for. It’s a bit of a shitty post-wedding party if everyone can only congratulate the bride.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Romain standing on one of the balconies overlooking the catwalk. I excuse myself and make my way to the main gallery and through the staff finishing the last remaining touches, fixing a bow here and there, securing the reserved seats.
Romain is leaning on the bannister, watching me like I imagine a hyena watches its prey, as I take the staircase at the side of the gallery until I get to his level.
I wait until I’m standing on the balcony right next to him to speak in a low voice. No one is here but sound carries. “Where is Seth,” I hiss. “If you’ve set him up I swear—”
He turns to me. His brows cock and his mouth twitches. He’s fucking amused. “Relax, little mouse, your prince is safe. As long as I get what I want, you’ll get what you want. And we all live happy ever after.”
I scowl at him. “He’d better be.” When all he does is smirk, I take position next to him and look over. This is a good place to people watch. “Honestly, I don’t know who to trust anymore. You say things. Odette says things. Even fucking Royce.”
He angles his head, considering me for a minute, and then he shrugs. “I’m the only one who stands to gain anything from helping you. The rest, fuck ‘em. They’re not next in-line and never fucking will be.”
He does speak the truth. The exact truth I spouted back at him that day in the woods after he shot Sully in cold blood and we waited for Marcel to find us. I had ten whole minutes to pitch him my idea to a murderer. When there’s a dying man at your feet, gurgling as he takes his last breath, ten minutes is a bloody long time. I just didn’t know it would take.
But it did.
Afterward, Romain had Aruba stalk Seth all to arrange a little chat between the two of them away from Marcel’s eyes and ears.
I take a few seconds to steady my breath. “So we’re still on?”
He smirks at me, one of those grins that makes him look insane. “Just keep my name out of it and I’ll give you everything you need, little mouse. If not, I know which room in the house belongs to your little girl. Cute girl. Wizard obsessed.”
Bastard. My fingers grip the rail as I intake a sharp breath. Breathe, Pearl, breathe. Squashing down the prickling anxiety that this is all going to go horribly wrong, and the urge to fly straight home and check on Sophia, I shoot him a scathing look. “Lettuce boy, if everything you’ve said is true. The police are going to have a field day. We’re keeping your name out of it but you know this is going to hurt Montford International for a while.”
He laughs, not sounding any saner. “We’ll come back. We always do. This isn’t the first scandal we’ve weathered. As long as we chop the infected parts off, we’ll survive.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“Just make sure loverboy pays up.” He pushes away from the balcony, gives me a wink and walks off. He’s only a few feet away when I realize he’s leaving.
“You’re not staying to watch?”
He shakes his head. “I’m done here.”
“What about your sister?”
“Odette can rot in hell for all I care.”
I let that sink in.
“Romain,” I shout to his retreating form. “Did you go a yacht party in Portofino recently?”
He turns, brow in creases, looking at me like I’m crazy. “I fucking hate boats, why the hell would I do that?”
Chapter 24
Seth
Knife’s Edge is lit up when I return, and Pearl’s party is in full swing. The carpark is full of cars, guests are in the middle of arriving, and there’s the faint sound of music coming from the terraced sky garden as I step out of the elevator at the top. This gives me time to sneak to the penthouse suite Pearl and I are staying in, shower and change, before heading upstairs for the festivities.
Pearl wanted to enter with me so I send her a text to meet and wait in the damn hallway. I’m parked on a window seat when she finally turns up. The sight of her in that sexy green dress, flashing her long legs at me, doe eyes giving m
e the look of adoration, is too fucking much. My dick is instantly hard, and my mouth can do nothing but hang open.
I grab her and kiss her, making her sigh into me as I lock my arms around her waist. I’m not letting her go ever again.
“Did you find her?” she whispers to me.
I nod. “She’s in the wings, waiting.”
It took a while to locate her. After my visit, Marcel paid her a call and scared the shit out of her. Aruba helped me track her down just like he helped me take out Marcel’s security guards around the cabin.
“And the files?”
I tilt my head at her. “We found something. Time will tell if it’s enough.”
Her eyes go wide. “What if it isn’t.”
I take her hand in mine and squeeze it. Pretending to be married means I can do these little things without wondering if she’s going to stab me. Maybe I’m taking advantage but do I give a fuck? No.
“We have the witnesses. We’re making Marcel no more of an enemy than he already is,” I say, giving her hand a light kiss.
I know. I’m turning into a soppy fuck.
“Then everything is ready,” she says, giving me a tight smile. She takes her hand back and adjusts her dress. I can’t help but watch her until she returns my gaze. “What, do I not look okay?”
I clear my throat. “You look perfect. Just one thing more to add.” I produce a ring from my pocket. It’s the one I was never able to give her. I want Marcel to see it on her hand. She frowns but allows me to take off her diamond and replace it with my mother’s ring. I’m fucking shaking as I slip it on her finger. This is a fake marriage Seth. Don’t get your hopes up.
I also take her father’s raven pin and attach it to the lace part of her dress. “There, ready for war.”
She looks up at me with doe eyes, unable to stop her lips curling up slightly at the ends. “Does this mean I’m in your stupid club?”
