Those days were gone. My imagination had shrivelled to nothing, and any illusions of a happy ever after for me were dead and buried.
“You’re lucky. You can have all the dick and pussy you want,” I said and felt that horrible flare of hurt inside. Just like I always did.
Tristan’s smile disappeared. “They can’t hold you back forever, Lainey. If you meet someone fitting, and you talk to your mom about it . . .”
I pulled my hand from his and held it up. “Stop. You know that’s bullshit as much as I do. Mom will never let anyone lay a hand on me. Not unless it suits her that I marry them.”
He wrenched my hand back down and squeezed it all over again. “She’ll never let anyone you think’s good enough lay a hand on you. Your taste is bad.”
“My taste doesn’t fit their criteria of acceptable.”
“Just as well, or their criteria of acceptable would be acceptably fucked up.”
I let out a sigh and leaned against him, loving the way his arms wrapped me up, even though he thought I was an idiot today. He was the only one who would do it, give me his genuine warmth and not the fake kisses and smiles people all around me gave.
I tried to indulge him in talk of him and not me.
“Are you seeing this Hawk guy again, then?”
“Next Saturday. He’s playing a gig at Cyrus Bar, an intimate little show. Looks great.” He paused. “You could come if you wanted.”
“Where the hell is Cyrus Bar?”
“Downtown. About as far as you could get from the world of Bishop’s Landing.”
It sure sounded a world away from Bishop’s Landing. Bishop’s Landing looked down its nose at anyone without a billion dollars in their back pocket.
Yeah. I liked the damn sound of Cyrus Bar, downtown.
I called up my diary on my cell. I had some crappy charity affair on Saturday night, but I could ditch it. Fuck it, I would ditch it. I wanted to check out this Blue Hawk guy for myself.
“You coming?” Tristan pushed. “I’ll need to get you on the guest list. It’s a sell-out.”
“Yeah, I’m coming. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet a hot rocker guy for myself.”
“You’d be signing their death sentence if you did, and you know it.”
Yeah. I knew it. Even a sniff of my involvement with a rock god would put a bullet in the poor guy’s head.
Tristan’s next words were a whisper. A whisper with a chill.
“Promise me one thing. Swear on your heart you won’t ever fall for Lucian Morelli.”
“I won’t,” I told him.
“So promise me.”
I looked into his eyes and summoned up the fire inside. Because I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever fall for Lucian Morelli.
“Swear on my heart and hope to die,” I told him, and hooked my finger in his.
That appeased him. He was smiling as he hooked my finger right back.
Just a shame for me that I spent most of my life hoping to die anyway.5Lucian“Trenton Alto is here for you,” my secretary said, poking her head around the door.
I waved at her to let him in.
“Not like you to come here,” I grunted as he walked on through and sat himself down across my desk from me.
“Not like you to ask for something so black listed.” He leaned back in his seat. “This was expensive. And risky.”
“I’m well aware of both,” I told him. “Is it comprehensive?”
“It’s comprehensive. Changeable, but comprehensive.”
He handed the business card across the desk, and I took it. “This is accurate, is it?”
“From a reputable source.”
“Good.” I stared at the encrypted web address.
“How the hell do you think you’re gonna get into these places? They’ll shoot you dead on sight.”
I shot him a glare. “I have methods, Alto. I always have methods.”
“Methods in the madness,” he said, and I smirked.
“You can fuck off again now.”
“Got too much to talk to you about before I fuck off.”
I put a pause on official business to hear him out about the shifting tides of criminality behind the scenes. He was right. He had plenty to be talking to me about. My life was a web of dealings. Veins of darkness running under the surface of the world all around us. We were into everything. Everywhere. Every dirty scene, every corrupt empire of trade, every filthy way to make cold, hard cash.
Still, I was sitting in my tailored suit behind my desk, living out my facade of corporate godliness. People wouldn’t ever dare challenge me. They may as well carve out their own gravestone if they tried.
Trenton Alto was my right-hand man on the underside of my existence, and had been for years, far more nefarious than even the most thuggish of criminals could ever know. Usually I’d be keen to hear what he had to say, but I was restless that day, itching for something I couldn’t scratch. Calls and meetings had felt strangely dull, nothing spiking my interest. The bustling city around me seemed plain and flat.