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Goddammit.
Alistair, Gabriel and I were never “friends” per se. But once upon a time, when we were all at Knightsblood University together, we were at least…cordial. Knightsblood has four student clubs, and the three of us happened to be the presidents of three of themat the same time: Alistair was head of The Reckless, Gabriel ran Para Bellum, and I was at the top of the Ouroboros Society.
Then Layla died, and it all went to shit.
We haven’t spoken or seen each other face to face since. Though they’re both members of Venom, which means they haven’t considered the fact that I vet every single member. Or else they have and they just don’t care.
Gabriel and the lovely and formidable Taylor Crown, the third founding partner of Crown and Black, mostly come to Venom for business reasons: to show prospective clients a good time, or to assure the dangerous people they’ve been representing these days that they can “hang” with the bad guys.
Alistair comes for business reasons, too. But he also comes to play.
Hey, no judgement.
Still, today will be interesting, to say the least. Not only is it the first time we’ll be seeing each other live and in person since what happened all those years ago. But also I’ll be casually letting them know that, oh, by the way, I’m going to be marrying their eighteen-year-old aunt.
Yeah, this should certainly be an interesting experience for everyone involved.
Two guards at the top of the front steps of the house pat me down and then let me through. Inside, a butler bows silently, then ushers me through the lavish foyer toward a closed set of wooden double doors.
“Does sheknow!?”
I tense, stopping cold at the shrill scream coming from the other side of the doors. It’s a woman’s voice, but it’s too old to be Maeve, and I know for a fact that Charles’ gold-digging wife, Caroline, is in Rio right now spending her husband’s money on a butt lift.
She’s probably also fucking every cabana boy on Ipanema, given that back home, she’s chained to Charles’ wrinkly old dick. But I digress.
“Maeve is well aware of what her duty to this family entails—Tempest!”
Aaah.Yes. So it’s the fourth Black sibling, Tempest, who’s raging like…well, a tempest.
She’s also the member of the Black family about whom I know the least.
Gabriel and Alistair I’ve studied like a scientist. I know Alistair isn’t really as dark-hearted as he’d like the world to think, and about his adoption when he was three. And I know Gabriel isn’t asgoodashe’dlike the world to think, as well as all about his political aspirations that he won’t admit to anyone.
And of course, I knew Layla.
Probablytoowell.
Too well to save her, anyway.
But Tempest? She’s an unknown to me. All I know is, she’s eleven years younger than her brothers, doesn’t work, and by all accounts is just sort of a trust fund kid living off Gabriel and Alistair’s dime. She’s probably in Charles’ pocket, too?—
“You can go to hell, Charles!”
My brow cocks.
Okay, maybe NOT on Team Charles…
“You and that sick psychopath Dante!”
I scowl, and just as I’m about to open the door and make my entrance, they fly open in my face. Something small, soft, freckled, wearing thick black eyeliner and with her dark hair piled up on her head, dressed in a vaguely gothy all-black ensemble consisting of a turtleneck, shiny black leggings, and heeled black ankle boots with buckles and pointy toes, comes barreling into my chest.
She gasps sharply, stumbling back from me. As if on instinct, my hands shoot out, my strong fingers curling around her too-thin wrists and latching on tightly. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m yanking her up to stop her from falling, and right into my chest.
Her breath catches. Her big greenish-hazel eyes with the too-thick eyeliner drag up to mine. When they reach their destination, she doesn’t quail. She doesn’t flinch or look scared.
She looksangry. Wrathful. Indignant that I’ve had the gall to stop her from falling on her fucking ass.
Tempest is indeed well named.
