What Grows Dies Here
Page 62
Well, I had been wondering that until I saw the men with the guns. Then I was just plain pissed.
“You need to tell the men in the suits with the semi-automatic weapons to leave,” I hissed at Karson. “I tried to do it myself, but apparently, they think they’re guarding Buckingham Palace because they didn’t so much as blink at me. Which doesn’t make sense because if this was Buckingham Palace then that would make me the queen and therefore the only person that they have to answer to.” I stepped forward, narrowing my eyes at Karson. “But I have a sneaking suspicion that you are the one they answer to, which makes no sense because this is not your party nor your house.”
Karson didn’t so much as blink. “No, but the most precious thing in my world lives in this house. There are a shitload of people coming to this party, and I wasn’t able to vet them all.”
“Vet?” I repeated. “No one is trying to assassinate me, no one needs to be vetted.”
Karson folded his arms. “I disagree.”
“I do not need security at my party,” I informed him. I was well aware of the shit that was happening with Jay and his territory. Things were getting shady. Dangerous. That was part of the gig.
I had not expected it to be ruining my fucking party.
“It’s the Russian Mob, Wren,” he gritted out. He was obviously pissed, since he was calling me by my name. Karson was all about the endearments, which I enjoyed. But whenever he was mad, he called me ‘Wren’ in that flat but loaded tone of his.
“So?” I replied, annoyed.
“So?” he repeated. “It’s the Russian fucking Mob, Wren.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I heard you the first time. I’m sure they are very scary and very intense but they are just men, and some very well dressed women. Plus, they focus mainly on illegal gambling operations in places like Atlantic City and New York. They would not be interested in this kind of party. Although I’ll keep some vodka on ice, just for them. Happy?” I put my hand on my hip to punctuate my point.
I had never seen Karson look furious. Like truly furious, steam coming out of his ears type furious. Not until now, at least.
“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke, Wren,” he practically snarled. “And this isn’t a conversation. The men are staying. Stomp your foot. Throw a tantrum. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
I stared at him. “Oh, I will. The chief of police is a good friend of Daddy’s. And I used to date someone rather high up in the DEA. I still have his number. I’m sure he’ll be happy to come over here to remove the men with guns from my premises.”
Karson had a tic in his jaw as he folded his arms across his impressive chest. “Do it,” he challenged.
The asshole was actually calling my bluff. He knew that I wasn’t going to make that kind of spectacle. Nor was I really going to divert resources when they had real work to do.
I couldn’t do anything. Not really. Not if I wanted to go up against the armed guards. And my dress was vintage. I couldn’t risk tearing it.
“Arrgh!” I screamed, stomping my foot. I pointed at Karson. “We are not speaking for the rest of the night, potentially for the rest of eternity.”
I turned on my heel and trudged back to the party, snatching a shot off a tray and plastering a smile on my face.
I made good on my promise, avoiding Karson for the rest of the night aside from staring daggers at him. Stella noticed but wisely didn’t say anything. Nor did Zoe or Yasmin.
Despite the armed guards, the party was great. One of my best.
It was after everyone left that things got good. When Karson and I had angry sex. Then make up sex.
I eventually spoke to him again.
THREE WEEKS LATER
I blamed the different time zones.
Never mind the fact that I’d been all over the world three times over and hadn’t been jet-lagged … ever. Also never mind that New Zealand was months ago, and it was biologically impossible for it to be the reason.
There needed to be some kind of excuse. So traveling to the bottom of the world worked fairly well. There was chaos. I was seeing my best friend for the first time in months. The coffee was extraordinary. I had Karson entirely to myself. He didn’t have to run off in the middle of the night. He didn’t come home covered in blood.
It was just us.
Therefore, I was distracted. I couldn’t be trusted to do things like take the pill I’d taken religiously since I was thirteen.
Plus, I only skipped one day. Doubled up the next day. I did everything by the book. It wasn’t like I went on antibiotics and didn’t know that they affected the pill’s efficacy. I knew every caveat of the medication that came between me living the exact life I wanted and being covered in shit and spit-up.