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Ravenmaster: You’re looking at things as black and white right now when the world is filled with shades of gray.
Flipping the phone over, I release a sigh and lean my head back. Shades of motherfucking gray… What is that even supposed to mean?
A pounding beat steadily pulses in my temples, adding to my headache. Aren’t bad things supposed to come in threes? It feels like someone accidentally hit a multiplier button, and I’m getting bombarded with more than I’m due. Something tells me it’s not over either. There’s no way I won’t be hit with yet another thing.
My eyes slip closed, willing the stress to disappear. Grayson scoots farther away from me before grasping my arm and pulling me down so my head is on his lap. His thumbs instantly find my temples, rubbing circles to fight off the headache. A small moan of relief slips past my lips as his fingers run across my skull.
Keeping Grayson around was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I never realized how much I needed his innocence. Sure, I’ve corrupted him some, but I don’t think he’ll ever be as dark as the rest of us.
Before I know it, the limo slows and finally stops. The sound of two doors slamming shut reaches us, and a minute later the back door swings open. Vander moves to climb out first, followed by the others until Grayson and I are the only ones left. Rolling my shoulders, and then turning my head from side to side, I find the tension that was pulling at me before has gone away.
Grayson leans in and brushes a kiss against my cheek. “You’ve got this, and as angry as you are with them, we all have your back. If everything goes to shit, I’ll make you forget all about it for a few hours,” he whispers, shooting me a wink. I give him a half-hearted smile in return before letting it drop.
“Do they really? I can’t help but wonder if Vander won’t do whatever the Don says.“ I use my sperm donor’s title in a mocking way. Vander made it seem like his word is more binding than anything else. Can I trust that he would really choose me over whatever the Don tells him to do?
The way he makes it sound, there’s no escaping this life for him. What will he do if he’s faced with choosing what’s best for me versus his own life?
“Just because we’re mad at them doesn’t mean they won’t back you up, especially Vander. They’re obsessed with you, and possessive as fuck,” he rumbles, smoothing a lock of hair behind my ear.
“We?” I question, catching the fact he included himself.
“Of course, we. I told you I have your back. If you’re pissed at them, then I am too. I don’t want you thinking all of your men are teamed up against you. You feel backed into a corner and don’t know how to deal with it.” His hand drops to my back and rubs in circles to help soothe me against his words. “You’re overwhelmed by it and don’t have the time to process it right now. But I’m here for you, snowdrop.”
Somehow his attempt to help calm me actually works. Knowing the one person I still trust has my back and understands me better than I understand myself… It helps clear my mind of all the bullshit, allowing me to go forward with a confidence I was lacking moments ago.
A throat clears from outside the car before I hear what sounds like arguing. Ignoring it, I hold Grayson’s jaw with both hands and kiss him softly. “Thank you,” I breathe out, brushing my lips against his, not wanting to pull away yet. How did I end up letting this man see me so clearly?
Knowing I’m pushing the limits of being rude, I climb from the limo to find the two men who picked us up wearing scowls, obviously annoyed with me not acting more subservient. So far it feels as if the father who’s had nothing to do with my life—that I can remember—is suddenly trying to control everything about it. It’s like he thinks he can pick up where things left off simply because he’s always kept an eye on me.
Well, I have news for him. That’s not how things work. I’m not a bird he can cage, and if he tries… hell hath no fury like a pissed off serial killer.
Glancing around us, I find we’re standing in front of a nightclub. There are two bouncers standing on either side of the door. Close by is a velvet rope positioned to organize waiting partiers, but with how late it is, or early depending on how you see things, there isn’t anyone waiting to get in the club at the moment.
A strong rhythmic beat spills from the entrance hinting at what we’ll find inside. The men sent to get us turn around without a word, assuming we’ll follow, and much to my displeasure, we do. The moment we step inside we’re instantly swallowed by the loud music, dark lighting, and flashing lasers.
Everywhere you glance are gyrating bodies, pressed together like sardines. The goons who came to get us push through the crowd, clearing the way for us to follow. Vander closes in behind me. I’m not sure if he’s falling back on old habits of being my guard, or if he truly wants to protect me.
It’s something I wouldn’t have even questioned a few short hours ago. The way he was behaving makes so much sense now. How he knew I’d push him away and tried to make me promise I’d forgive him. I’m so thankful I didn’t blindly agree to his request. It’s one promise I wouldn’t have been able to keep.
We reach the bottom of a staircase leading to the VIP area where another set of bouncers are standing guard over a velvet rope. They see us approaching and remove the obstacle, allowing us to continue on without breaking stride. The upper level isn’t as crowded as the dance floor. It seems the patrons here are more interested in lounging on the couches and drinking, giving it a whole different vibe than the thirsty bitches downstairs.
We’re facing the bar servicing the VIP level, and I quickly notice the door located behind it. It’s right next to a wall of windows allowing whoever is inside to observe the entirety of the club. One of the men guiding us turns around. “You need to wait here until he’s ready to see you,” he shouts over the music, before crossing the room and entering through the door with his partner, shutting it behind them.
So he’s deciding to play games before even seeing me. Summons the long-lost daughter home, and then makes her wait before allowing her the privilege of an audience with him. All in retaliation for me not running to him as quickly as possible. At least that’s how it comes across, and perception is everything.
Rolling my eyes, I move to the bar. Might as well have a drink while I’m waiting. Who knows how long it’ll be. I’ve only closed half the distance when a woman with a short pixie cut squeals and smacks right into my shoulder as she runs past me. My gaze narrows and the corner of my lip lifts in a scowl, I turn to shout after her, but it dies on the tip of my tongue when I find her flinging herself at Vander.
Disgust is written all over his face, which is the only reason I don’t pull my gun out and shoot him when she leaps in the air and wraps her limbs around him like a koala. “You’re back! All of my friends told me to stop waiting around for you, but I knew you’d eventually come back for me!” She leans in like she’ll kiss him, and I can’t stand the thought of her touching what’s mine for another second.
My hand reaches into her short locks, fisting it in my grip, and I yank as hard as I can. The strength of my fury has her flying to the ground since Vander was already pushing her away from him. Grayson barely steps out of the way in time. Her limbs are sprawled out, and her eyes fill with a dazed, fearful gleam. I don’t pause for her to shake it off. Instead, I lean in to make sure she hears me. “Don’t touch what isn’t yours, skank!”
The satisfying crunch of my fist hitting her cheekbone is barely loud enough for me to hear over the music. Her eyes roll back, and she passes out. Good. Now she won’t be touching him anymore. I stand and brush my hands off, striding for the bar needing that drink even more now. Her friends rush by me, making sure to give me a wide berth having seen the whole thing, and my men follow closely behind.
A shocked bartender is already staring at me when I reach the counter, so I yell out my order and wait for him to hand me the rum and coke. The warm presence of Vander closes in on my side, and when his fingertips brush against my arm, I flinch away. “Don’t touch me,” I bite out, flashing him my death glare.
“It’s not what you think, Reginetta. But you can’t go around acting like we’re in a relationship. Fooling your father is our only hope if we don’t want him to kill me on the spot,“ he declares in my ear, a little too close if he wants to keep from seeming like there’s nothing between us.
“No need to act like it, Vander, there is no relationship,” I growl, turning away from him to check on my drink.
