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He held up a pink flyer.
My eyes widened. I knew what that flyer was, but it wasn’t the flyer. My flyer was safely tucked away in Sofia’s journal, so what the fuck was that flyer doing there?
“I don’t know,” I responded, trying to stay cool. “What is it?”
“Are you telling me you have no idea what this is?” he replied. His voice had gone cold, cruel, like the first night and nearly every night after. I sat up and grabbed the sheets, pulling them up past my breasts. He stalked over to me, keeping the window open behind him. His gaze had gone dark, like the midnight sky. I looked beyond him to the moon outside then back.
“I don’t know what that is, but you’re scaring me,” I said. He leaned over me, menacing, towering. His arm shot out and his hand gripped me by the throat in a flash. I grappled with the sensation, his grip closing tighter as he lifted me up off the bed by my throat.
The sheets fell from my body, my legs slipped against the bed, and I grasped his hands. My eyes were probably wide, but everything was dimming as my breath got weaker. Then he chucked me to the ground.
Like garbage.
I had seconds to feel hurt and broken before he was advancing toward me again. Naked, I scrambled away as he stalked closer. I stood up and ran to the door.
“Get the fuck out,” he growled. His low voice had gotten even lower, and it warbled with the bass and intensity. I rushed outside into the hallway and the door slammed shut behind me.
Never again, I vowed. I will never again let myself be this vulnerable.
Sixteen
Never again, Anteros thought, taking another shot. He would never again let himself be that exposed. He would never turn into that person. He was The Beast, not some fucking pussy.
He took another shot and signaled to the nearest woman for another round. Anteros had left the penthouse minutes after slamming his bedroom door in Frankie's face. Then he spent the night in one of his clubs, hammering shots like water.
The club was like a sultan’s harem in a Victorian world. Decorative chandeliers hung from wrought iron stems, their crystal beads oozing sensual red light. Gauzy jewel-toned fabrics hung from the ceiling, ranging from sheer to thick draperies, creating the illusion of privacy. The music was a deep, sensual beat that thrummed in your veins.
All the men were dressed in tuxedos, all except for the Beast, who had thrown on a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt in his haste. The women ranged from completely naked to fully dressed, but all of them were in masquerade masks.
All you had to do was ask, and they would strip. Every single one.
Anteros took another shot.
“Just like the old days,” Little O said, lifting up a veil and taking a seat. A woman in nothing save gold jewelry placed another drink at Anteros’s table. The gold was thin but heavy, starting at her neck and covering her body so that her nipples were erect through the chain.
Anteros took another shot as Pretty Boy, Big O, and Crazy A came through the curtains and slid into the velvet booth.
“You know the one thing that will get Crazy A out of his hole is naked women,” Big O said. Beast glanced at Crazy A. The Wolf’s scowl was deep, making the grooves in his face appear like caverns.
“Yeah,” Anteros growled, taking a shot. “Right.”
“So,” Pretty Boy said, signaling at another nearly naked woman carrying drinks. “What’s going on?”
“This—”Anteros slammed the flyer down on the table “—was on my window.”
Pretty Boy picked up the flyer, held it to the ruby light, and examined it. “There’s no way that was an accident,” he said, handing it to the others at the table. Big O looked at it and passed it down the line. “You’re too high up for it to have been wind.”
“Exactly,” Anteros replied. “Someone was in my home. Someone planted that.” Anteros raised his hand, signaling for another girl. This time he ordered a drink to go along with his shots.
“Did you look at the tapes?” Big O asked.
“Obviously I looked at the fucking tapes. Erased.” The pink flyer reached Crazy A and Anteros watched, waiting for him to reveal the fact that he’d known The Council was behind this for some time. Instead he stood up, placed it on the small round table in the center of their private booth, and slid back into his seat. A moment later, another nearly naked woman appeared and placed Anteros’s drink down on top of the pink paper.
Anteros picked up the drink, thinking about the flyer, the tapes. There were only a few people with enough manpower to get into his guarded house and erase them, and those people sat at the top of a ubiquitous tower in the center of the Financial District. Judging by the silence in the booth, his Wolves were thinking the exact same thing.
“Why now?” Pretty Boy asked but seconds later Pretty Boy answered his own question: “The Pavoni Princess gave them clout, didn’t she?”
“If The Council is behind the attacks and rumor, then it’s about time we end them,” Big O said.
