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“The deal has gone through with Boston,” he says, hanging up. His serious expression cracks as a broad smile spreads across his face.
“Fuck, yeah.” Zaid claps Lucas on the back, and his brother beams at him.
Ciro stays quiet, but in his own way, I can tell that he’s pleased too.
“That’s great.” I grin. From the conversations I’ve overheard, I’ve gathered that this is no small deal, and one they’ve been working relentlessly toward for months.
“There’s a celebration tonight at The Blind Pour,” Hale says, still grinning.
A strange sort of nostalgia rises up in me as he says the name, and my heart squeezes.
The Blind Pour is an old vintage bar owned by Damian. Unlike the sophistication of Onyx Cocktail Club, The Blind Pour is all dark wood and old-school furnishings. I have plenty of memories of going there as a younger girl, and even now, I could easily get lost in the dozens of memories I have from that place.
But this is their celebration, not mine. I’m sure one of them will stay behind to keep an eye on me, but I haven’t left the house except to meet with Damian since the night I tried to escape.
A sharp pain twists in my chest, and I stand up, trying to hide the way my smile falters. I don’t know why the idea of not being part of their celebration hurts, but it does.
“I’m gonna go upstairs for a bit. I’m glad the deal came through. You deserve a win,” I tell Hale, brightening my features as much as I can before slipping out of the room.
My bedroom feels too quiet and empty as I settle on the bed with one of the books Ciro brought me a few days ago. I find that I miss being downstairs with the men. Even when we’re not talking, it’s just nice to feel their presence around me. I’ve gotten used to it, and not just because I feel safer with them around.
I just feel… better with them around.
Refusing to let myself dwell on that little bubble of pain in my chest, I focus on the pages in front of me, getting lost in my book for the next couple of hours.
“What are you doing?” Hale’s deep voice comes from the doorway, making me start. “Hiding up here like this?”
I set down the book, irritation spiking when I see him casually leaning up against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. His warm, lazy eyes make me think of things I shouldn’t think of. His posture and expression make him look like a lion warming itself in the sun.
Watching its prey.
Waiting to pounce.
“Well,” I say, punctuating the word, embarrassed by how irritated it comes out. “I don’t have anything better to do tonight than have a quiet evening in, so I figured I wouldn’t waste time getting started.”
He takes an easy step into the room, watching me. “Who says you’re not coming with us?”
“Well—”
“Did I ever say you weren’t invited?” He lifts an eyebrow, stopping a few feet away from the bed. “Or did you just assume we wouldn’t want you there?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s exactly what I assumed, actually.”
The irritation is still simmering under my skin, and I don’t bother hiding it anymore. Why would I assume I was invited when I’m still technically a prisoner here?
Truthfully, it doesn’t feel like that at all anymore inside these walls. But outside? Among the other members of the Novak Syndicate? In front of Damian?
To anyone but the four men who’ve gotten under my skin and inside my heart, all I am is a pawn of the syndicate. I’m a piece on a chess board, not an actual part of their organization. Not someone to be welcomed with open arms.
Hale’s face softens, the teasing expression leaving his eyes. “I’m sorry. Of course you assumed that.” He sits on the edge of the bed, his hand coming to rest on my thigh as he looks at me. “Grace. Do y
ou want to come with us?”
He’s asking. Truly asking. And I have a feeling that whatever answer I give, he’ll honor it.
I take a second to consider, weighing everything my answer means. Then I nod. “Yes. I do.”
Hale’s face splits into a wide grin, and he gives my leg a little squeeze before he stands up. “I’ll be right back.”
