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I would play their game - but onmyterms. Instead of getting ready, I grabbed a few pans, deciding that scrambled eggs and bacon was an equally good meal for an early dinner as it was for breakfast.
By the time I’d plated the dinner and set the table, Marissa stepped out looking heavenly, and while I appreciated her in almosteverything(and nothing) she wore, it pained me that she dressed up forthem- that she was playing bytheirrules. She wore a navy pencil skirt with a dress shirt, and she looked like a sexy secretary or alibrarian. Yeah, I could get on board with her clothing choice, and if I wasn’t too pissed after the meeting with Benson and Sarah, maybe I’d find a quiet place in the library amongst all those stacks of books.
She grinned at me, reading my thoughts as if she lived in my mind. It was weird how in sync we were - about the most basic shit, anyway. There were still secrets we were both keeping.
We ate in silence, Marissa simply thanking me for the meal - never once questioningwhywe were eating bacon and eggs for dinner. We all had our comfort foods - this was mine. And when it was time to leave, I slung a leather jacket over my shirt, ensuring that I changed nothing else about my appearance. Marissa simply quirked a brow in my direction. She chose to play her game dressing up as their puppet, this was how I rolled the dice with mine. Besides, they would expect nothing less from me.
The elevator ride up was painful, the classic music that jangled through the speakers doing absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. I walked into the library, taking a minute to slow my step and shorten my gait in order to accompany Marissa sufficiently. Her hand slid into mine, cool against the nerves that seemed to wrack through my system. I wished that it was only me - that I was by myself, because the thought of Benson SinClaire’s gaze on her made me want to rage - destroy everything in sight. And losing my shit wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.
The Library looked exactly what you would expect from old-school money. Caramel leather and wood, the scent of cigar smoke and books - as if the knowledge of eras had somehow seeped into the Persian rugs beneath our feet. Benson SinClaire was nothing if not predictable, for there he and Sarah Lipson sat at a table all their own, almost at the center itself, as if they themselves were responsible for the knowledge that pulsed between these walls.
We walked towards them, a united front, even when I wanted to fling her behind me andprotecther, despite the fact that it was unlikely she even required my protection, the sentiment remained, growing roots in the wake of the big bad wolf of The Society.
Benson SinClaire was dressed impeccably as always, his gaze raking over the two of us before finally resting on where our hands were joined. Sarah Lipson, by contrast, had her nose buried in a series of pages that lay before her as if meeting us was merely a formality and nothing more - a waste of her time.
God, I wished that was true.
“Cognac?” Benson rose, offering me a glass of the amber liquid he had only just poured for himself. I wasn’t a fan of cognac, but my da taught me that when a man offered you a drink at a business meeting, you never declined. It showed that you trusted them - were willing to drink from the same barrel as they did, and such sentiments created friends and allies far quicker than it ever forged enemies. Despite that notion, I was certain that Benson SinClaire and I would never be friends.
I took the drink from him before tugging Marissa gently along, encouraging her to take the seat next to me, positioning us on the opposite side of the table. Benson grinned at us as if he were in on some joke we were not yet privy to, and I was certain that I hadn’t wanted to punch the fuckface more than I did in that moment.
“How’s your father keeping?” Benson directed the question to me, and for a second I couldn’t believe that he actually wanted to make small talk about my family - especially after he all but summoned us here, but this was what they did - they took every opportunity to remind you of the power they wielded. It was his way of tugging at my leash.
“Good,” I exhaled, reminding myself that I only had to endure his presence for the duration of the meeting and nothing more, “at least the last time I spoke to him.”
“Good, good,” Benson eased back into his chair as if we truly were two gentlemen, meeting as acquaintances to share little anecdotes and nothing more. “And Patrick? He looks like he’s coming along well at university.” The sound of my brother’s name on his lips was akin to an ice bucket over my chest.
As if sensing my hesitancy - my rage, Marissa jumped in, playing the role of supportive Society girlfriend to the tee. “Patrick’s great.” She smiled at Benson encouragingly, boasting the demeanor of Society pawn perfectly. Benson swiveled his gaze on her, his eyes narrowing a fraction, and I wanted to lunge across her simply so he couldn’t see her anymore. Even as the irrationality took hold, I struggled to shake the notion that I should protect herfrom him.
“Of course,” he finally spoke, offering her a bland smile that was filled with calculation. I felt her hand stiffen beneath mine. It seemed she wasn’t immune to Benson’s vile nature, and for that I was thankful because if there was anyone she should be afraid of here, it should be him.
“Here’s your assignment.” Sarah Lipson jumped in, evidently bored with the banter that Benson insisted on pushing. She pushed forth a glittery card - an invitation of some sort, and even as I reached the seemingly harmless paper, dread set it. Because why the fuck would we be receiving an invitation of any sort.
“This is an invitation for a gala dinner in honor of the Pure Joy foundation.”
Thatwas why they wanted me to attend - why they called us here to make a public show of givingthisto us as our assignment? While the Pure Joy foundation was a non-profit that funded the needs of orphans globally, that wasn't all it was.
“Indeed,” Benson grinned, “it’s also hosted by the Juarez family.”
I gritted my teeth, my jaw aching from the pressure becausefuck Benson SinClaire. He knew that sending me to an event run by them was just as good as a death sentence.
“The Cartel?” Marissa couldn’t hide the shock that seemed to color her tone.
“Right you are, Marissa.” The delight was evident as Benson oozed smugness, the fucker probably thought he was so goddamn clever. “They are involved in an array of philanthropic ventures, and you two will serve as The Society representatives fromthisbasecamp.” If he threw in a wink at her, I wouldn’t have even been surprised at this point.
“The assignment isn’t a problem, is it,Mack?” Even the way he spoke my name was a taunt. This was what he planned for all along - to get rid of me - to rid The Society of the O’Rileys and still maintain the influence that my family had because at the end of the day - for all intents and purposes - we were still part ofthem.
I swallowed down my foul language - because swearing at him wouldn’t help and, really, what was I supposed to say?Please, don’t send me to that dinner because the Cartel will kill me on sight based on who my family is?Benson knew what he was doing, he’d played this game far longer than I had, and because of his years of practice, he was ultimately better at it. God, I fucking hated him.
Her hand squeezed mine in solidarity, and my heart lurched at the thought of walking into that pit of vipers with her in tow.
“No,” I finally answered, “No problem at all.”
Chapter Twenty-One : Changing Tactics
Marissa
Thedinnereventwasin two days, and while I hadn’t a wardrobe here ready for such an event, The Society assured me that they would provide the clothing required. This was the part I hated - I hated relying on them - accepting anything from them, because they made it so goddamn easy to be needed that when they pulled the rug out from under you, you were left reeling.
