Shark (Wall Street Beasts 1)

“I’m the love of your life?”

“You’re the love of my entire existence,” Alex told her. “I’m sorry this world can never be safe for you. Christo knows who you are. Indigo knows who you are. You’re in play, but I’m going to keep you safe — and I’m always going to come for you. But don’t you ever…” He cupped her chin to stop her from looking away. “Don't you ever pull shit like you did tonight, going off alone, trying your hand at revenge on Christo.”

"Christo is worse than Indigo. He ruined my fucking life.”

“The best revenge is a life well lived, Sophie.”

“I think the best revenge would be him buried in the fucking ground.”

She was so fierce, and not even being temporarily abducted had dulled her anger at Christo.

“We can’t kill people, Sophie. At least, not these people. They may be our enemies, but they are also our allies.”

“Christo’s not my ally. I almost had him…”

“Little girl, I am going to take you home and spank you the longest and hardest I’ve ever spanked you for even trying to hurt Christo. That’s not your job.”

“Imma kill him,” she muttered under her breath.

“You are not going to kill anybody. You don't understand how these games are played yet. Now that Christo and Indigo both know your real identity, you are dependent on them to keep your secret.”

“Not if we kill them.”

“Listen. Would that this life were as simple as just killing everybody inconvenient. But it’s not that simple. We’re not criminals, Sophie. No matter how many laws we break. Our world has rules, and conventions. The second killing Indigo and Christo becomes thinkable, is the second we all have to start looking over our shoulders for assassins.”

“You’re telling me Indigo doesn’t kill people? He looks like a fucking serial killer.”

“Oh, Indigo kills people. He kills people below tier.”

“Below tier? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alex gave her one of those deep looks which told her he wasn’t going to humor her fake naivety anymore. So much of her innocence had been completely lost, and they both knew it. “You know exactly what it means.”

It meant anybody who wasn't hyper-rich and ultra-connected was basically disposable to this cabal.

“You’re... we’re… not the good guys. Are we?”

“You understand that you're one of us,” he smiled. “That’s good. You have a lot to learn, Sophie. But you’ll learn it all, because you're smart, and because I intend to ensure that you do.”

A shiver ran through her. She’d thought that this was over once she was rescued, but now she was realizing that it would never be over. There would always be some other vestige of innocence to strip away, some other humiliation to inflict. And there would always be the fear of retaliation and incrimination.

She lowered her head and huddled into his side, wanting protection from his world, but knowing that he was the complete embodiment of it. Alex was just as bad as Christo, and Indigo. He was the evil on her side.

Chapter 24

The car went through a set of tall gates, and up through a winding lane which went on for a surprisingly long time and finally terminated at what looked like either a mansion or a sanitarium for the criminally insane. Given what had recently occurred, there was a very real chance it was both.

“Where are we?”

“This is my New York residence.”

“I picked you for an apartment dweller.”

“I like space.”

Small talk had never felt smaller.

“What do you do with all those rooms?”

At one time she would have said that they'd be filled with friends and family, but Alex didn’t seem to have family, and his friends were all caught up in various murderous conspiracies. It was a lonely life, at its core. Or it would have been, if not for her presence in it.

He’d saved her the night Christo tried to frame her for fraud and terrorism. But now she wondered if Alex had only been saving himself. He couldn't be with a normal woman. He had to be with someone just as alienated from everyday society as he was.

She kept those thoughts to herself as he helped her out of the car and ushered her into the interior of a dwelling which was pretty much the polar antonym of the island retreat. There were no great glass walls here. There was solid stone and old oak. There was the heaviness of tradition, and the weight of expectation.

It was beautiful, of course. Spectacular chandeliers hung above the marble foyer into which they walked, a space so vast and grand she felt dwarfed. This was not the type of house that could ever feel like a home. This was a place designed to make an impression.

“Hello, sir.”

A sleekly suited butler or some such servant glided forward to greet them.

“Smithers,” Alex greeted him. “How long has it been?”