If The Institute was displeased, they could revoke his charter, a charter they relied on to make their earnings. The Institute was about fifty percent of their business, drugs about twenty-five, guns maybe fifteen, and ten percent truly legitimate business. He fingered the knob, feeling the cool brass against his palm, wondering if he was going crazy.
“What the fuck happened?” Crazy A demanded. “Are you okay? Do you need backup?” Again, Anteros didn’t respond. He turned the knob, gently pushing the door open. “You can’t just disappear on us and not give us a reason,” Crazy A continued.
“Actually, I can.” He hung up, pushing the door open all the way. Light streamed over the bed and onto Frankie's body. He stood for a moment in the doorway, watching her chest rise and fall.
It was another night where she had fallen asleep in his bed. Another night where he should wake her up and make her go to her own room.
Instead he shut the door and walked to the bed. He didn’t bother taking off his clothes, didn’t even bother taking off the blood-stained shirt. He simply took off his belt and shoes and got into bed.
With an arm behind his head, he stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the shadows. It was like alarm bells were going off in his head, but all he heard was music.
“Did you tell him?” Frankie’s voice ghosted through the silence.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anteros replied.
There was a brief pause, and then she asked, “Really?” Frankie sounded less annoyed, more defeated. “You’re going to make me say it?” Anteros didn’t respond. “Fine.” She sighed. “Did you tell Giovani that Gabriella is pregnant?”
The rustle of the bed was heard in the dark as Anteros rolled to the other side. His back now faced Frankie. “Like I said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eleven
“Giovani is dead.”
“What?” I asked, jumping to my feet. The book I had in my lap fell with a final-sounding thunk. “What do you mean he’s dead?” I stared wide-eyed at the Beast, waiting for him to explain further. He gave me a skeptical glare.
“I didn’t know you two were so close,” he replied. Of course we weren’t close. I hated Giovani almost as much as I hated the man staring curiously at me. It had only been a few days since that fateful dinner and life had continued on as soul-sucking perdition for me. With one exception: I saw Gabby in the park.
One brief moment where she’d confessed her intent.
One brief moment of utter terror when Nikolai had stopped the car and told me to get out because Gabby was waiting for me. I hadn’t planned any of it. I’d refused to get out—terrified Beast would know, but then I saw her and was compelled.
“I…” Stuttering, memories took hold of my tongue. It had felt so strange when my feet hit the pavement. My eyes had left Gabby, wandering around the snowy city, breathing in icy freedom.
Then she’d confessed her intent and my eyes snapped back.
She wanted to murder Giovani
I didn’t think she would do it. It was Gabby after all. Gabby shook when she poured hot chocolate—she wouldn’t murder her husband. I’d only thought she was angry, hurt, understandably abject; because what she’d suggested to me was suicide.
“I—” Quickly I swallowed the memory and returned my gaze to Beast. “I’m not. I’m just surprised is all. Is she okay?” The memories of our encounter continued to wash over me as Beast stepped closer. He reached his hand out and ran a thumb across my lower lip, studying my reaction.
I reeled at the contact, my body swaying slightly. Following the dinner, Beast had been uncharacteristically absent. There’d been no attempts at forced orgasms, no confusing gentleness. He’d been completely gone. I hadn’t expected to miss him, it was what I’d been wishing for since arriving, but there was an ache in my chest. A deep pang existed there, like my heart had been beaten and was constantly sore from the fight.
Now going from zero to Beast had it hammering.
“It’s unfortunate,” Beast said, tugging at my lip. He dipped his thumb into my mouth and I closed my eyes, trying to resist. The ache in my heart was soothed, but in its place was an urgent need. I’d been so foolish, getting used to a life without this constant pressure.
He brushed the rough pad of his thumb against my tongue. I tried to do nothing, but my mouth watered anyway.
“I’m only informing you as Gabriella will most likely be killed,” he murmured. “Or sold into slavery.”
“What?” I asked. At least that did it. The spell was broken and, as if water had been thrown on my body, I jumped back. “But why?” I turned my head to the fireplace in the library, watching the flames crackle. It was just so cruel. She had somehow figured out a way to kill Giovani and now she was to be killed?
“She killed her husband,” Beast replied.
“But she didn’t do it,” I lied quickly, snapping my attention back to his. Beast gave me a tired look, reaching for the book I’d dropped to the ground.
“House of the Dead?” He turned the book over to look at the cover. “Fyodor Dostoyevski. Didn’t I see you reading Crime and Punishment earlier in the week? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was a theme here.”