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Caius moved his hands to the bottom of my white shirt, lifting the hem so slightly, and slid his hands onto my bare skin. A chill ran over my entire being at his brush.
Just as he was about to move my shirt over my head, the door to the office swung open. Caius and I both turned to look.
“Fuck, sorry. I should’ve knocked.” Ace came bounding in, his blonde, shaggy hair swaying with each step.
“What, Ace?” Caius snipped, clearly aggravated at the interruption.
Ace said nothing, but instead looked over his shoulder to the monitor on the wall. We followed his gaze and noticed a silver car pulling up to the front door of the house.
“Shit,” Caius spoke under his breath.
I looked from the screen, to Caius, then back to the screen. “Who is that?”
“What do you want me to do?” Ace asked, both of them ignoring my question.
With his hands still under my shirt, resting on my bare skin, Caius shook his head. “Nothing. Let him say whatever he needs to get off his chest.”
Ace gave a half turn, about to leave, before turning back to Caius. “Why do you let him in? Why do you let him speak to you like this?”
And that’s when I figured out who they were talking about.
Amadeus.
Caius shrugged. “Because if I’m his punching bag, then at least it stays here. He can get it all out in the open and keep his mouth shut when he leaves.”
“What, like a fucking therapy session?” Ace replied, heavy in his sarcasm.
“So far, it’s worked,” Caius said, his eyes moving back to the screen. Amadeus got out of the car, locked it, and walked up to the front door. We watched as Amadeus jiggled the locked handle, unable to get in. Caius reached under his desk and pressed a hidden button, activating a security feature to unlock the door. But with his hand hidden, I heard him grab something else. Metal clanked on the underside of the desk, and I knew what he was going for. My eyes briefly met Caius’ as he tucked a gun in the back waistband of his pants.
Amadeus pushed open the door and stepped inside.
I crawled backward off Caius’ lap and began to walk away from the desk, until Caius grabbed my hand and pulled me back. He stood to his feet and glared at me.
“Stay with me,” he commanded, his focus piercing into me, drilling an unease into my body. I nodded in agreement.
Caius nodded to Ace. “You stay here, too.”
“You sure?” Ace asked. “If he sees all of us here, he might not want to talk.”
“It’s fine,” Caius assured, but I could tell it wasn’t fine. There was a waver in his voice, a hint of edge in his throat. I took note, making sure to keep his apprehension in the back of my mind.
After a minute, I could hear footsteps approaching the door, and without warning, the door busted open. Amadeus stumbled in, his black hair greasy and untamed, his cheeks sunken in, and his eyes hollowed with deep, purple circles.
“Fuck, Dey, are you on some shit? What is wrong with you?” Caius asked, more angry than concerned.
Amadeus shook his head in distrust. “Nothing’s wrong withme,”he spit out. “What’s wrong withyou?How many offers will it take for you to give this place up?”
Offers.He was mad about Caius denyingoffers.
As if taking one of the offers would change anything about what Purgatory is. It would only change the hands it belonged to.
Caius refused to answer the question. Instead, his hand found the small of my back in an act of protection.
Amadeus’ eyes scanned each of us individually. When his gaze landed on me, his eyes narrowed, and his head cocked to the side.
“You?” he spoke, verifying his memory of me. “You’re the one from the party.”
Flashes of the party sparked in my mind. The memory of me hearing Amadeus out and listening to everything he had tosay. The way he stood on the chair, the knife and champagne in hand, and the way he looked so much better back then than he does now.
