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I left him. I walked away. We’re not engaged anymore. He doesn’t need to have anything to do with me if he doesn’t want to. He can make a clean break and enjoy his business dealings with my grandfather.
And yet he’s still haunting me.
I want him out of my life but if that happened, what would I be left with?
Nothing at all.
I hate him for starting all of this. I hate him for manipulating me and my family and stealing me away.
But most of all, I hate him for making me realize exactly what my family really thinks of me.
I was blissfully unaware.
Now it’s all I can see.
Chapter23
Carmine
The Oak Club appears at the end of a long, private driveway, hidden behind the high concrete walls lined with crushed glass and dotted by security cameras. Men in dark suits wander the scrubby grounds between the public world past the gate and the private world further down the main path. The limo comes into view of a massive marble building that looks like a temple to the old gods complete with a huge set of ornate doors and columns at least a story tall. There are other cars parked nearby, all of them high-end luxury vehicles, and more guards standing around looking like well-dressed men in tuxedos, but I know their jackets are hiding Kevlar vests and high-caliber pistols.
Evander is the first one out of the vehicle. He laughs like a lion and stretches. “It’s good to be home,” he says, his voice a rumble. He’s a massive man, broad and muscular and massive, and we’re all big guys in good shape. The Greek lion’s got dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, and dresses like an Italian supermodel.
Gareth goes out next. “As your lawyer, I must advise caution. But as your friend, go nuts, Evander.”
The big Greek laughs. “I have only two speeds. Fast and faster.”
“That’s what we love about you,” Ford says as he gets out next.
Lanzo sighs and winks at me. “Fucking Evander,” he says. “We’re going to crash another car.” He gets out and slaps the big man on the shoulder.
I exit the limo last and stand with my friends. Evander, Ford, Gareth, and Lanzo. A long time ago, back at Blackwoods College, we came together one night after a freak accident and we never parted ways again. Even if we have our own lives and don’t get together as much as we’d like, these men are my brothers, my heart and my soul, and I’d die for them. I know they’d die for me. I know they’d kill for me too.
“Come on, boys,” I say and lead the pack up the front steps. Together, we’re the Atlas Organization, and nobody fucks with us. Maybe we haven’t reached The Next Level yet, but I’m well on my way, Ford’s going to be head of his family one day, Lanzo’s talents are in demand, and Evander’s growing his family’s influence daily. Gareth might be the closest of all of us, but he’s a lawyer and doesn’t count. Taken separately, we’re all important, but still second-tier. Put us all together and we’re unstoppable. “Let’s see if the Oak has changed at all.”
Lanzo and Evander swap stories from their recent exploits abroad—Lanzo’s been hacking the Russian government for the Israelis, and Evander’s been funding mercenary groups fighting in Ukraine—while Gareth and Ford discuss some nitpicky law that’s been bothering the Arc family. Meanwhile, I look around and soak in the surroundings.
The Oak Club is the most exclusive place on the planet, more exclusive than the White House, than the Skull and Bones Society, than any Masonic Lodge. It’s the beating heart of power, the real Next Level, and while we’re all only junior members and only allowed in certain parts of the structure—the main rooms, the bar, the lounge, and the library—there are still glimpses of what’s to come—hidden rooms on the second floor, conference spaces where the elite of the elite hash out world-altering deals, lounges where the most depraved tastes are catered to and encouraged, bars serving only the rarest and most expensive liquors. A massive, ancient tree grows in the middle of the huge open atrium, the spine of the club and its namesake, supposedly planted by George Washington himself although it’s got to be older than him by a big margin. Beautiful men and women in black shirts and black pants stand around with drink trays and hand out champagne, prosecco, whiskey, and wine. Other guests lounge on couches and in chairs, talking quietly by fireplaces—politicians, billionaires, a couple of A-list movie stars—while our group moves past them and into the lounge.
The music’s louder back here. It isn’t crowded yet, but there are people sitting at the bar. There arealwayspeople at the bar—the Oak hires men and women to sit around and make conversation with the guests that seem out of place and low energy. Beautiful men and women that are willing to do nearly anything for a price, and since money is no object here, the sky’s the limit. The boys get drinks and Evander starts chatting with a particularly stunning redhead while I hang back and watch the night unfold.
It feels good to be with my brothers again. For a little while at least, I don’t think about Brice, but that doesn’t last. The first attractive professional that sidles up next to me and gives me a charming smile immediately makes me think of my former fiancée. This woman’s pretty, but she’s not Brice. None of them are Brice. “Thanks, but I’m fine,” I say and dismiss the woman with a nod. She shrugs and moves on to someone else.
Gareth appears at my elbow with Ford. “What do you think?” the lawyer asks. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“I doubt it ever will,” Ford says. “The Oak’s mystical. It’s eternal.”
“That’s some deeply spiritual shit coming from you, Ford,” I say, grinning at him.
He winks and shrugs. “I can be very deep.”
“The only thing you’re ever deep in is some expensive pu—”
“Okay, enough of that,” Gareth says interrupting my extremely tasteful and hilarious joke.
Lanzo joins us and clinks his glass against mine. “Heard you nearly got hitched, brother. What happened?”
I glance at Gareth who is busy glaring death at Lanzo. I’m guessing Gareth told everyone not to mention Brice, but it’s hard to keep Lanzo on a leash. The hacker’s the definition of chaotic and he’ll do what he wants, say what he wants, and go where he wants whenever he wants, and the rest of us can go fuck ourselves. I respect it and even enjoy it, except for when it cuts me.
