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Manic

Page 69

by C.J. Blaire

“No one’s ever been able to pull Manic from one of his… episodes,” he explained with a casual shrug. “I figured if someone as small as you managed not to die, you earned some conversation. My bet was on your survival.”

“You made a bet on me?” I practically squawked, then quieted my voice. “Who else made this bet?”

Considering how he’d looked at me last night, I couldn’t believe he’d wager on me surviving. It did make me curious about who else was in on this bet, though.

“Vince, Grave, Naomi. A few others, too.”

My eyes narrowed. “Who bet against me?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Grave and Vince.”

“Assholes,” I breathed.

Axell lit up with pure amusement as he held two coffees. Despite myself, I laughed and shook my head. In some ways, I’d made a bet on myself too. It was unfortunate that Axell and Naomi had way more confidence in me than I did.

Axell’s boots thudded against the floor as I followed him out, but my smile slipped right off my face as soon as the cool air hit me. My stomach fluttered at the sight of Manic leaning against the car with a scowl, his arms crossed. Like my happiness pissed him off.

Well, there went his good mood.

Axell got in the car without a word, leaving me standing there. Traitor. And here I thought we were becoming friends.

I extended the coffee to Manic and had half a mind to pour it all over his shirt like he did to me this morning. Instead, I gave a deceptively sweet smile and said, “I hope it burns your throat.”

Manic chuckled. “It won’t burn me as bad as you do, Sutton. Now get in the car.”

My cheeks flamed, but I did as he demanded.

I remained silent the entire drive, even as the city loomed away in various shades of orange and red and yellow. The midst of fall. Twenty minutes flew by before we finally ended up at the casino, my thoughts circling on an endless loop.

Did my father know I was coming today?

My heart pounded something wild, and I managed to slow my breathing before exiting the car. Sweat dampened my palms, and I was starting to think having coffee was a bad idea. My blood buzzed with a different type of energy.

It didn’t feel like I was playing a part now, it felt like I was fully in it—like it had all sunk in at once. The realization of them owning me made my skin crawl.

I had no other choice but to play along.

If I wanted my freedom, I needed to comply, even if that meant destroying my father’s life in the process. For once, someone needed me, and I wasn’t being treated as if I were some brainless student. I was useful. And strangely enough, being useful—even to the mafia—felt almost… liberating.

Regardless of how liberating it was, I couldn’t get rid of the nauseating feeling in my stomach. I knew next to nothing about the mafia. Naomi had said the Russians and the Crowes had run the city for the last few years, up until the Irish squeezed their way in. But how deep did their reach go?

Manic casually placed a hand on my back and urged me toward the back entrance, his warmth seeping through my coat. His voice dipped as we fell into step between our security, almost drowned by the sound of our shoes on wet concrete.

“Do me a favor and act like you own the place.” He glanced at me, brows lifting as we entered the building.

I squinted, immediately suspicious. “What for?”

We turned the corner and walked down one of the back hallways. They were lined with elaborate white-gold tile, textured walls, and frames that showcased vintage gambling posters. Private golden elevators sat at the end—ones that took us to the upper level which overlooked the establishment with glass walls.

“Just do it,” he said quietly. “Show them that you’re indispensable. An asset. And, if anything, do it to piss off your father.”

That brought a genuine smile to my face, because truly, I wanted nothing more. My father had gotten me into this mess, and I was going to make him regret it. I already had a few ideas up my sleeve.

Manic returned my smile as we entered the elevator. It was… mesmerizing and captivating and mysterious all at once. It wasn’t until this very moment I realized I hadn’t seen a grin as genuine as the one he gave me.

Oh, hell. Heat crept into my face, and I momentarily forgot I was supposed to hate him. Forgot that he was my kidnapper and all the things he’d manipulated me into doing.

The doors closed, and his smile dropped. “What?”