"I love our nicknames for each other, and while in my head, you'll always be Daisy and I hope I'll always be your Gatsby, I just need you to know that I'm not living in some fantasy world. That I don't love Daisy, this girl I've built up in my head. I love Shiloh, the one I talk to every single night. The only one who hears me when I speak, the one that if you stop breathing, I stop breathing. And the one that I'm going to marry some day."
I didn't know what to say.
He did love me. What does one say to someone who just bared it all to you?
"I love you too, Emile."
Chapter 66
Gatsby
Daisy screamedas the room filled with smoke. My ears rang as I stumbled back in surprise. Furious, I reached my hand behind me and removed the gun from my back strap and turned, quickly firing two rounds, hitting Max in the chest, and Clarke square in the forehead. The men dropped to the ground instantly.
"If you have anything to say, say it now," I yelled. If my ears were ringing, so were hers. Clarke's gun didn't have a silencer, like mine. I set my gun on my desk and took off my jacket to examine where I'd been shot. I stripped my shirt off, then the bulletproof vest, then went to the other side of the room, where a mirror sat.
A large bruise was already forming, and it hurt to breathe. One of my ribs was cracked, I was sure.
Bastards.
Glancing past myself to the mirror, I saw that Daisy had gone to Max. She was holding his head up as he struggled to breathe. He didn't have much time, considering I probably hit a lung. Her mouth was moving, and his eyes were on her. I couldn't hear anything, which was just as well. She neededto say goodbye, and I needed to let her. I exited, leaving my gun and vest behind.
My office wasn't soundproof. Even with the raging party going on below, there was a chance the gunshot had been heard. The moment I stepped out of my office, it was clear that it had.
Fuck.
My guests below were screaming and running out of the doors. The music had stopped, and the dancers were standing there, unmoving. I reached into my pocket and found missed calls and text from most of my staff. I text Dewayne, letting him know everyone was safe, the shooter was contained, and to calm the people as they exited.
A moment later, I watched from the balcony as he reached the stage and took a microphone. His voice was muffled in my ears, but the crowd stopped panicking and began to listen. Slowly this time, people began to file out, and through the windows, I could see police lights.
Someone had called when they heard the gun go off.
Police waded in past the guests, and I returned to the office, where I put my clothes back on and took the gun from Max, replacing it with mine.
"What are you doing?" Daisy asked. Max was already gone. I helped her stand and pulled her in for a hug.
"Going for our green light."
I took my time going down to greet them. The calmer I was, the easier this would all be.
"Mr. Gatsby." They nodded. These were the same ones who had arrested me, then apologized after I'd paid them handsomely to never harass me again. "We're sorry to have to be here, but we were called and a gunshot has to be at least checked on."
Thankfully, the ringing was dying down and I could finally hear again.
"Yes, it's a really unfortunate scene upstairs. Let me take you."
In my office, Daisy stood, blood on her hands and dress, still looking stunned.
"What happened?" an officer asked.
"The gentleman on the right, Clarke, shot me, and then shot his friend, Max Stanton, on the left. As Max was falling, he shot Clarke."
"You're shot?" they asked, stepping over to the bodies.
"Yes, but I had a feeling that I would not be safe tonight, so I wore a bulletproof vest. I'm fine." I winced through the pain from the cracked rib.
"I see." It was clear on the policemen's faces as they exchanged looks like they knew I wasn't telling the truth. Even I could admit the story didn't add up. And if they did autopsies and checked the bullets or searched for gunpowder residue, my timeline of events would fall apart. They looked over at me, and I stared them down.
"Should I call my lawyer? He can speak to you about things if you'd like."
