Truthful.
She stiffens as we round the corner. It’s the first sign of honesty I’ve seen from her so far tonight. She’s scared, nervous under all that bravado. Fuck knows why. It’s a statement. That’s all.I’m your sister.I head for the main auditorium, more than amused at that because I can’t wait to see the looks on their goddamn faces. No amount of getting into my systems told them that bit of information, did it? Not one fucking thing would give them the ability to have that over me.
A ruckus of sound comes from behind us as we weave through the crowds, shouts and screams for a name I don’t know. I swing back, pushing her to the side to avoid the trample of guests rushing to get a view.
“It’s Rocket,” she says. I look back at her, confused. “You know, Britain’s newest pop sensation?” No. I don’t know. Nor do I give a fuck. “Guess it’s a good job you’ve got me to inform you of life outside, Benjamin Vico.” Apart from the lie she’s been living.
My brow must conjure the right amount of disdain for her tone, because she defers her eyes to the floor for a second or two, checking herself. Better.
“Vico,” I hear shouted across the room from somewhere. I turn to the right, searching the crowds again, and eventually find Nathan and Gabby at my table close to the ring, his glass of champagne raised at me. Quinn sits beside them, Emily on his knee, apparently not the slightest bit interested in my arrival. He’s too busy all over his woman and laughing at something to worry about me, or his champagne. It’s cute.
They’re fucking cute.
“You think that’s what love is?” I muse to Hope, nodding my head at them and making my way down the steps.
“It is for them,” she replies, finger twitching in my hand as she follows. “Not for everyone, though, I suppose.”
Not for everyone.
I look back at her for that, focusing on the last of the words. Everything drowns out but her face. The crowds. The noise. The beams of lights around the place. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the look of her, slightly lost in thought, her hand trying to pull from mine for some fucking reason. I half let it go, pissed that my damn head can't make up its mind. “You want that shit?”
“I want you,” she says quietly. A good answer. The right answer. Still, I stare, doubtful of everything she is. We’re not that anyway. Never have been. I wouldn't even know what that shit is or how to deliver it if she did want it. “However I can have you, Benjamin.”
Yeah. She wants that shit.
Doesn't damn well deserve it, though.
My head shakes at her, and I turn for the boys again with a fucking spring in my steps. Jesus Christ. The hell is that? Bouncing? I’m a goddamn mess of fucked emotions. Should've killed her, and instead I've got this crap in my head screwing with logic. I straighten my tux tie and offer my hand to various people on the way down. Polite greetings are needed—a politician’s son, the governor’s daughter, more people I neither like nor give a fuck about—until we eventually get to my table.
“Boys,” I call out, reaching for some drinks. I pass one back to Hope, pulling out a chair for her. “Starting early?”
“You’re late,” Quinn says, finally getting to his feet to slap me on the back. “We were bored waiting for you.”
Were they? I smirk and look up at the ring, oddly not caring that they started drinking before me. Maybe that’s what friendship does when you finally trust someone. How the fuck that friendship’s gonna play out by the end of the night, I don’t know.
“Hope was deciding what to wear,” I counter, shaking Nathan’s hand. “It’s an important night for her.”
“Why?” they both ask, looking down at her.
The whole place dims with only whispers of light, then erupts into some fucking music as the main beams focus on the ring in front of us.
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Dominion Event. On behalf of the GAA Fight Night, the most anticipated bout of the year is brought to you by…
Cheers echo off the side of the building, the whole room standing to welcome the fucking idiots who are about to knock each other’s heads off for a few hundred grand. The noise makes me smile and turn for the entrance, waiting for the fighters to swagger in.
“Never have understood this,” Emily suddenly says by my side. I look down at her and widen my smile.
“Not your scene?”
“No. Quinn enjoys it, though.” Of course, he does. He’s a killer, like me. Bet his blood’s riling up inside him now, hoping to let loose at something. I look at him, watching as he bounces his shoulder off Nathan’s. They laugh, enjoying each other’s company.
“What the hell doyoulove abouthim?” Emily’s eyes shoot up to mine, hands covering her ears at the deafening sound of new music that drops in. She’s too cute. Completely fucking lost in here. I swing to look at a fighter coming in, gloves throwing jabs about as the crowd jeers him on.
“Strange question,” she shouts. I sip my drink and dump a load of cash in the baskets being passed around. Not to me it’s not. They’re completely at odds with each other, and yet so fucking attached. “What’s that?” she asks.
“Charity.”
“Oh. Really?” She digs in her bag and nearly equals what I’ve just put in there, a smile on her face. “Not something I’d imagine of you, Benjamin? Charity?” I guess not. I smile again and look back at Hope.
