Page 54 of Líadan's Code

After what feels like a million people later, we arrive at our seating area at the back of the club. The more I look around, the more that I can see details of the large room.

There are dark-blue satin walls, low lit chandeliers, and in the aisles there is a place to lock in the chains for those who brought their favorite human pets.

I feel gross being in this room filled with men and women without rights, but don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get them to abandon this practice. I can only control my direct people, so the change may need to begin in Chicago first.

Sitting slowly, I toss my jacket over my chair for increased mobility. People laugh and talk as my eyes take everything in, and I notice movement on stage. It looks as if Layla and the band are here now.

“As wonderful as your entertainment idea was, I’m happy to have my songbird here,” Daddy says smugly as a gorgeous blonde begins to walk toward us with several men surrounding her. Cormac’s grumpy ass is leading them, but I don’t see Jordan anywhere.

“Why is that, Daddy?” I ask, picking up a sealed bottle of water that was delivered to me by a man in a thong and nothing else.

Breaking the seal, I open it and take a deep sip of the cool liquid as I wait for his response.

“This group of sharks are waiting for a chance to reach for the multitude of weapons on their persons. We attempted to remove as much as possible, but had to make certain concessions,” he grumbles. “In good faith, they still have most of their weapons. There are too many places for these people to hide things.”

Knowing I’m just as guilty of doing the same, I simply nod as I put aside my drink.

“You have a way to keep everyone happy after your announcement?” I ask.

“Yes, sell the songbird, of course, through lots,” Daddy crows. It’s exactly as Jordan thought, making me force a nod even as my stomach flip flops. I can mimic smiles and emotion when I need to, and as Cormac stops in front of us with his entourage, I adopt one that doesn’t look like I need to take a shit.

“Layla,” Daddy says almost warmly as he greets her with a wide grin. He appears almost lazy as he leans in his chair with his leg over his knee in his expensive suit. I continue to watch Layla carefully to see how she’s reacting to the club.

I’m not going to lie, this place is a lot, and so are the people here.

“Seán,” Layla murmurs. “How are you? Quite the crowd tonight…” His smile never falters as he turns toward me. You’d never know how much he hates being called by his God given name by a woman only a couple years my senior.

“It’s all for my daughter, Líadan’s, debut. The Irish families want to meet my heir,” he says proudly. It even sounds genuine, which surprises me as I smile back at him.

It’s a little one, but it’s there.

“It’ll be interesting to see what they think when they find out she’s a woman,” Layla says mildly. She’s wearing a blush and white cream dress that’s a tulle and applique monstrosity. I wonder if Daddy picked it out, because it’s exactly something he’d choose, even down to the areas where it’s very sheer, as if putting her best features on display. The irony that he attempted to buy me a dress as well isn’t lost on me.

“It doesn’t matter how capable you are to some people, they’ll still underestimate you,” she says, shrugging a shoulder idly. Her hair is up in a chignon, and I can see from here that there’s something different about her pins.

Daddy must be losing his touch not to notice that her hair pins are knives.

“Why do I like you?” I murmur, the words pulling themselves from me. Layla is as extraordinary as Jordan has been gushing. She doesn’t appear worried about tonight in the slightest.

“I said the same thing to her the other day.” Daddy beams at me, making me feel unsettled as I notice his odd behavior. He seems too happy, almost gleeful. It’s an inner mania right before he does something really fucked up.

“Where is my uncle?” Layla asks idly. She acts as if she doesn’t care either way, irking my father.

“Uncle?” I ask as if I don’t know already.

“Jordan.” Daddy shrugs. “He has a niece, and she’s a murdering pain in the ass.”

“Don’t hurt me, and I won’t have to kill anyone,” Layla says nonchalantly. I really think it’s that simple for her.

“I need to check you for weapons,” Daddy warns her. “I very much love this dress on you. I would hate to strip you naked before your performance.”

“You’re an arrogant dick,” Layla comments. “Go ahead and check for weapons. If your hand moves inappropriately, I will break your fingers.”

“The tiny pixie is feisty,” I observe as Daddy begins to check her for weapons. I continue to speak to ensure he doesn’t have his complete focus on her. Layla flinches when his hand goes up her dress, and one of her men growls so loud, Daddy pales. “Don't be a pervert, Daddy,” I remind him.

“I’m not, hush,” he says, rolling his eyes before he stumbles as he stands. “I’m interested to see what other commands I can get you to follow.”

Ick. It’s disturbing to watch your father act like a pig.

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