“They’re quite something,” Nate’s woman muses. My eyes drift over her as she gazes at Hope’s bracelets, fingering her own diamonds around her neck. “Where from?”
“I’ll take you tomorrow if you like. Shopping? We’ll leave these men to their commerce and enjoy some downtime.” She looks over at Emily, a saccharin sweet gaze on her face as she takes Gabby’s arm and wanders over. “Emily? What do you like to do? These business discussions can be so dull after a while.” Emily smiles, a small pull at one corner of her mouth as she reaches for the champagne Hope offers her. I snort again and take a sip from my own glass, wondering what entertainment Hope will employ to make the mundanity of the pair of them easier on herself.
It stays like that for a while, all of us talking congenially as if we’re making friends. I have no friends. Nor does Quinn. We can’t afford them. That’s the life we’re in. We do nothing but trade fucking egos with each other, attempting a loyalty we barely acknowledge as relevant unless it benefits us. Colleagues is more what we are at the moment—colleagues who might work together on a threat if he plays this right.
I nod at the maître d’, pulling her over to us, and order dinner for Hope and myself. She scurries over to the boys after that, reeling off the menu to them. Quinn does the same as me, ordering for himself and Emily, not questioning what she wants or if she’s allowed to make decisions. I play with my beads again, watching as the direct opposite happens for the other brother. It’s all her. Her decisions. Her rules. They seem in tune with each other. Balanced. Interesting dynamics to fuck about with. Hope will have fun tomorrow.
The food arrives after some time, waiters standing in a line ready to serve.
“Let’s eat,” I mutter, pointing Nathan over to the table towards Quinn. “It’s good here.” I want to watch them all for a while longer, get some information on how they interact with each other. Quinn I can deal with. I know his style, but that shit I heard about with the accountant, the way he stole millions with nothing but his brains and some balls? Intelligent manoeuvring. He could be beneficial to me, regardless of the Yakuza threat encroaching onto my turf.
“Welcome to New York,” I say, smiling and raising my glass. If a flash of hatred could be hidden well, Nathan doesn’t manage it. Quinn smiles at something as Gabby puts her hand on her man's knee to calm that scowl down. Not so fucking intelligent then. I look at him, a hard gaze trying to work him out. “Problem?”
“No. Just tired,” he replies. “You’ll have to excuse my mood.” He’s not tired. He’s anything but tired. He’s wound tight about something.
I smile and look Gabby over again, wondering if she knows what real damage feels like on that skin, but Hope’s hand on my shoulder, as she finally sits beside me, reminds me that my woman does. If this meeting doesn’t get a whole lot more interesting quickly, she’ll need more than makeup to cover the marks I'll leave.
My head turns, lips landing on her fingers. Emily sighs, which could also be beneficial to me. Perhaps it’s her I should be working over. I swing my gaze back to her slowly, waiting for whatever she needs to disclose.
“Looks good,” Quinn says, cutting across my stare to reach for the salt. Jealous fucker. I chuckle and look at my food rather than piss him off too quickly. Not that I care about any animosity he might feel, but this is business and a nice piece of tail shouldn’t get in the way of it at this point.
The normal procedure of pleasantries and unencumbered conversation takes us through most of the meal. Champagne flows easily for them, both women happy to drink freely and feeling the effects quicker than I might have thought. Hope isn’t. She’s been pacing herself correctly and following her standard response to alcohol, which involves light sipping and nothing more. No one would notice, though. I smile. She’s clever at covering herself. Being drunk means she might screw up.
And my girl never screws up.
“So, you boys got some plan in place?” I eventually ask, picking up the cognac that’s been delivered after our plates have been cleared. “You were talking about contacts in Columbia and shipping through New York to increase profits. I’m not seeing how that’s useful to me, regardless of Yakuza.” Quinn leans back in his seat, hand reaching into his pocket for those damn dice he plays with. I tip my head to Hope, flicking it towards the bar so she can get the women gone. She smiles at me and draws herself upwards, a coy snatched glance at Quinn. The clever fucker doesn’t reciprocate at all. He’s too bothered about getting on with this.
“Ladies, should we leave them to it?” she suggests beside me. Emily stands, after a nod from Quinn telling her what to do. Nate’s woman crosses both her arms and legs and picks up her drink, eyes firmly directed at me. I smile at her righteousness, wondering how quickly I could wipe that fucking haughtiness off her face. “Gabby?”
“No, thank you. I want to hear this if it’s about Yakuza,” she says. Nate grumbles and leans to her ear, whispering something. Whatever it was doesn’t go down well. Her face hardens, eyes snapping to his like all hell could break loose any minute. It’s interesting, enough to make me lean back and chuckle, gazing at their interaction. Seems like the balls are on her, not him. “But Andreas. . .” For once, he grabs hold of her attitude, stopping whatever was about to come out.
“Go drink at the bar,” he says quietly. “Nothing’s happening that you don’t already know.” It is. Neither of them are welcome at this table going forward. Women—other than Hope—are complications I haven’t got time for. Apart from fucking, which is something I might need to get involved with in this one.
She eventually stands and huffs at him, her eyes refusing to acknowledge my smirk as she heads over to the other two. Cute. Fiery as hell.
“You should get control of that,” I quip, sipping my drink again. “Could get you in trouble.” His eyes fire at me, but nothing comes out of his mouth. I chuckle at him and look back at Quinn, nodding for him to continue with his thoughts on our difficulty with Yakuza. He leans in, arms on the table.
“You said about trafficking issues out of here. I can pull the Columbians in again, have them route you through our channels. It’ll increase the flow, making more sense logistically.” My brows lift. Double drilling. It’ll pull the pressure off my team and ease the burden of regular delivery if done right. “Nate’s worked the numbers on your handlings. It’s doable. We’ll concede on a seventy-thirty cut, but you have to back us through the storm that’s coming.” I look at the brother, tilting my head.
“How do you know my numbers?”
“I know everything about everyone.” Does he? The thought pisses me off, and I stare at him, wondering how he got to anything I supposedly have locked down. “Don’t worry. I haven’t stolen anything,” he says, taking a sip of his drink and throwing his napkin to the table. “Someone else might, though. You wanna get control of that shit.” He smirks. “Could be trouble for you.”
A smile tips my lips, my eyes locked with his. Devious little shit. I like him already. Perhaps this team of two needs a little more consideration than I previously thought.
“You can sort that out for me?” I ask, about ready to kill my own mainframe tech team for letting anyone through my doors.
“Sure.” I look back at Quinn and wonder what exactly it is that he needs from me.
“Seventy-thirty?” He stares, dice rolling around his palm. It’s a face I know well, one I use all the time to get what I want. “And what do you need from me for that cut?”
“Muscle and weight.” Hmm. “All of it, on side with us.”
I take a sip of my drink, enjoying the front he's bringing. Not many come at me with this sort of offer. And not many would dare face me off like he is doing.
“That’s the deal, Vico. There’s no room for manoeuvring. You get a legitimate place to run fentanyl through. We’ll take that risk and give you a larger cut, but we get an alliance with you that goes through to the end.”
I glance behind me as the women giggle about something, watc
hing as Hope slides closer to Emily and pretends she gives a damn.
“With any luck, we’ll all come out better off.”
He gets up after that, giving me some space to think and crosses to the bar for more booze. Intelligent. I gaze back at the accountant instead, still wondering about that tension between them. I won’t have that shit in my house. Tension causes problems and with problems comes anarchy. He smiles at me.
“What?”
“Nothing, just being congenial.”
“You got whatever problem you two were having finished?” He looks behind me, a wider smile creeping up his mouth. I flip back to see Quinn and Hope talking. Good girl.
“We never have a problem with business. Personally? Different story.”
The admission makes me look back at him. I have no understanding of how that feels, having no siblings or family to give a damn about.
“There’s no need for you to be concerned. Everything being offered is genuine.” He stands and looks down at me. “What have you got to lose, Vico? I thought you liked a good fight. Or perhaps I was wrong on that score.”
He walks over towards the group behind me, a smug sense of satisfaction in his stride. He shouldn’t bother with it. I won’t be railroaded into anything by sly coercion, let alone brothers working as seamlessly as these boys are doing. They’re good, though. Astute. And more interesting than I’ve encountered for some time. I stand to join them, my feet directing me towards the only person I give a damn about. Hope leans into Quinn, saying something that will be useful to me at some point, no doubt.
She’s all smiles, a perfect lure for a man like Quinn—fuck, any man—and she’s doing exactly as I instructed. I slow my pace, reading her lips. “I certainly know this trip won’t all be business. I imagine you have other priorities as well, Quinn.” They lock eyes for a moment too long, her hand barely stopping itself from touching his chest. Provocative bitch. I smile as he falls for the bait, his eyes frowning at whatever he’s thinking about. Probably his dick.
A hostess chooses this moment to offer another drink, and I lose my line of sight. My snarl sends her running quickly enough that I pick up Quinn’s last words to her and barely contain my temper.
“Maybe you’re worth it.” Yeah, that’s fucking enough for now.
I walk towards them, arm outstretched to call her to heel. She comes instantly, a smile on her sharp little face as she graces the ground with her heels. We’re going home where I’ll fuck myself back into those eyes of hers and plan for tomorrow.
“Why don’t you two come on into the office in the morning?” Both boys look at me, Quinn smiling slightly. I glance at the accountant. “Sounds like I’ve got a breach you need to look at anyway. We can carry on discussions while these ladies shop downtown.” Hope leans into me, her hand trailing over the back of my neck. “This has been a good start.”
A good start.
Four
The clock on the dresser reads five thirty. Not the usual time for a run, but I'm awake, and my mind’s spinning faster than it should.
No matter how hard Benjamin fucked me last night, I couldn’t get Quinn from my mind. It felt dirty just thinking of him, but after all this time I’d sat across the table from both him and his brother. It was exhilarating in some ways.
I slide from the soft sheets and change, unable to take the quiet any longer. My body needs to process some of this frustration. If Benjamin wakes up, he’ll know where I am. By my reckoning, he’ll have another hour at least. The pills are very accurate, and I prepared enough for a good six hours.
Torino isn’t outside the apartment yet, but he’s in the lobby when I stroll through at six. He follows, keeping a marginal distance like he always allows when I run. He’s dressed in running gear as well, though, knowing my routine.
The apartment on the upper west side gives me the perfect route into the park and its multiple tracks and pathways. Five to six miles a day is my routine—sometimes more, sometimes flat out. It gives me the space to think, to consider, without the ever-watchful gaze of Benjamin or the many men he keeps around. Each has their job in his inner circle, as do I. We're like chequers on a board—moved when necessary, removed if need be. I'm his perfect mistress, though, a prize within his collection of fine things. The one he protects at all costs.
My feet start a rhythm, and I focus on my time, but there’s too much white noise this morning, and it’s all because of Cane. I’ve played interference for Benjamin before. It’s part of why he brings me along to certain meetings. I’m able to form a connection that he can’t, and that helps him, puts him at an advantage. And, ruthlessly, he’ll use anything he can. The rules are simple: I keep my eyes and ears open, but nothing physical. And the only contact is when Benjamin is present. Easy.
But not with Cane.
I up my speed, my arms pumping as I think back over our first interactions. Every ounce of my skill and patience were needed to hold a single conversation. An important one. My aim in that meeting was twofold. It wasn’t just Benjamin’s objective I was executing. I had to play things carefully, give Quinn something to set his mind playing, but with every glance or word I fought with an underlying need to lash out at him. I’d built him up to be this evil character in my head—the one people whispered about, the one with the reputation.
Benjamin asked me to get close, to distract Cane. A few stares across the table, an opportune conversation at the bar, and he was as predictable as any of Benjamin’s associates. Give him an opportunity, and the compliments flowed.
They might have flowed, but this was bigger than any of the other tasks, and when Quinn held my stare, a bolt of fear shot through me as if he would be able to see through my greatest lie. There was a connection between us, no matter how much I fought it, but I couldn’t dwell on the residual feeling that this wasn’t going to end well.
Still can't.
My body pushes harder, and my lungs scream in protest, as I force my muscles into submission. I round the corner of the path and stop abruptly before hitting the bridge in the park. The palms of my hands plant on my thighs as I breathe deeply for a moment.
He’s out of my sight line, but I can feel Torino staring at me in surprise. I never stop, never give in like this. I need to, though. I'm wound up, as if I can't clear my thoughts, and I’m out of breath because of it. My feet start moving in a small circle, walking off the adrenalin in my muscles that are fighting to claw out from under my skin. My thumb rubs the smooth metal of my ring as I strive to calm myself.
A few hours of peace in the library would help. Even Torino doesn’t follow me there. I need to get this under control. When I return, nothing can faze me, especially in the presence of Emily and Gabby. My feet break out into a leisurely jog, keeping my pace in check this time, along with my mind.
At least I have the next piece in the puzzle. The Yakuza. I’ve heard of them. Of course, I have. Anyone remotely connected with this world has. My next question is how I can use them. Benjamin gives me plenty of leeway when it comes to his business, but to be close enough to speak with a member of the Yakuza? That would be the riskiest move I’ve made since walking into that first high-end club over three years ago with the intention of finding Quinn Cane.
After a shower, I pick out one of my impeccable outfits, team it with the perfect shoes, and leave, ready for an afternoon of entertaining the Cane women. Benjamin wanted me on my best behaviour last night. That order extends to today as well, which means my smile has to stay in position. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to gain interest from Quinn if I’m not in the same room as him. Maybe there’ll be something in the next few days. When the opportunity comes, I’ll have to take it. I need to be mentally ready for what I’ve worked so hard for, but for today, I’ll focus on Emily.
Torino is outside the apartment door as I pull it closed behind me.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.” His usual formal greeting meets my ears as I pace past him and down the corridor. His steps fall in line with
mine, flanking me, my ever-present shadow.
He holds the doors, allowing me to glide through without breaking my step, then ushers me into the waiting town car idling by the curb. I glance at Eddie behind the wheel today. We’re picking up the Cane women from their hotel over on Fifth Avenue. Shopping is the obvious choice, I suppose, and it’s just about interesting enough to stop my thoughts running away with me and dwelling on the past.
It’s hard and becoming harder now I’m surrounded by Cane. My initial intentions are starkly clear, yet the world around me now muddles with other factors and feelings that I’d never have anticipated. Mostly Benjamin. I push them from my mind and watch as the urban jungle of New York passes us by. Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom isn’t where I want to take them. I'll take them to a few quainter boutiques, some of the smaller stores I’ve found while keeping up appearances for this life I lead.
Eddie pulls up outside The Langham and two men approach the car. They have a conversation with Torino through the window before one opens the back door to let Emily and Gabby in.
“Hello, ladies. Are you ready to spend some money?” I greet them in my most over the top voice.
“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find something.” Gabby’s disinterest in this little outing is amusing. She’s not the usual wifey character I’ve dealt with. She sees herself firmly in the thick of it along with Nathan.
Emily just smiles pleasantly before watching through the window as Eddie attempts to move us through the stubborn traffic.
“We don’t need to go far, just to that little diamond shop around the corner. It’s on Seventh I think.”
“Miss Winters, you may need to be more specific, sorry.” Eddie’s thick New York accent filters through to us. I watch as Torino leans over and gives him directions to the shop in mind. Over the last two years, there’s only been rare occurrences when I’ve been out without Torino, and that’s only because Benjamin has been with me. It was a huge adjustment at first, but he doesn’t prevent me from doing anything I choose, and I’ve learned to accept his presence as a compromise while being in Benjamin’s world.
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