You once said to come to you when I wanted to be fucked properly. I hate to admit it, but the last hour of plotting Obsidian’s downfall has turned me on beyond belief–
I don’t even finish her email before I’m jumping out of my chair. The other guys are busy, either typing or on the phone, so I quietly make my way to the soundproof conference room in thebuilding next door. The Lords bought out the entire block once to hold an entire Swedish mafia organization hostage, and I still can’t believe that the rest of the village has no idea what kinds of shit goes on here.
When I enter the conference room, I leave the door open. A minute later, I’m facing the window overlooking Blackwell Village and the door clicks shut. I don’t even bother turning around–I can smell her from here. My cock is ready to burst from inside my boxers.
“Hands on the glass, Lottie.”
EPILOGUE
Lottie
Three Months Later
The crescendo of the song lifts up into the air, the notes hanging beautifully suspended before crashing back down and pulling the audience into a stunned silence before the applause breaks out. I’m among them, clapping wildly as the members of the London Philharmonic stand up and take a bow. My eyes leak with tears as the emotions of the evening crash over me, and Lachlan must notice because he takes my hand as we walk out of our private box. The others are ahead of us, and as we hone in on our targets, Lachlan’s hand squeezes me tight.
“Ready?” he asks.
“It’s a shame we have to murder so many people just after such a beautiful concert.”
He smirks. “Is it?”
My lips quirk to the side, but I don’t answer.
Just as the words leave my lips, I see Max roll a smoke bomb into the cluster of people waiting to exit. A few people scream, and it’s enough of a distraction for us to start running in theother direction–back toward the theater. Despite wearing heels, I’ve grown accustomed to running in them, and I haul my arse underneath the stage to where Obsidian is gathered.
“Nice hiding spot,” I announce casually, and the men gathered all turn and point their guns at me. “I can see the appeal, but unfortunately, it’s time for your eviction.”
As the last word leaves my mouth, I duck–and the guys rush into the room behind me, guns blazing. Shots are fired, and I can only hope that the smoke upstairs is enough to distract people from the noise, because these idiots don’t even have silencers.
I roll the grenade from out of my purse to where the eleven men are gathered. A few of them are dead already, but the grenade should take the rest of them out–and I want to weep for the beautiful instruments we’re about to destroy forever.
“Go!” I shout, diving behind a wall furthest away from the blast. It radiates through the small room, and after a few seconds, the silence is deafening.
“Everyone okay?” Alex asks, coming to stand next to me.
“All good,” Otto answers. “Max?”
“Yeah,” he says, a few feet away from me. “Lachlan?”
“They’re dead,” he confirms, checking the area where they were standing. “All eleven of them.”
“Eleven? Weren’t there twelve at the concert tonight?” I ask.
“Maybe he’s in the loo,” Max jokes.
“That was too easy,” Otto whines. “And we didn’t even get to go to Hong Kong. My fans will be so disappointed.”
“I think they’ll manage,” Lachlan growls, and we remember how one video of the five of us–taken without showing our faces and covering our brands–got him over a million new followers.
A door to the stage flies open, and a man looks around, completely startled. I recognize him as the twelfth member of Obsidian–a man so dishonorable he’s stooped to creating a fakebaby formula shortage so he can charge more for his black market variety.
“Goodbye,” I snarl, lifting my gun.
When he collapses, I sigh a breath of relief. “Now that’s really all of them.”
We stand in silence for a few seconds before Otto clears his throat. “I’m famished. Let’s get a chippy and go home.”
Two hours later, we’re all gathered around the Christmas tree at Blackwell House, listening to Alex play Christmas music on the piano. Cardboard takeaway boxes are stacked on the coffee table containing the last of the chips, and the fire is blazing in the large fireplace to my right. Otto is stroking my hair while my head rests in his lap, and Max is rubbing my feet. Lachlan is on the other side of the couch, trying not to fall asleep.
