Page 50 of King of the Cage

Now, after a whole day of deep diving The Enclave and Aldo Sepriano, I needed to come up for air. At the very least, I needed to go to the store and get more coffee. I was out.

My cell rang, and I snatched it up when I saw the name on the display. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

Sol sighed. “I can’t rest anymore. I’m bored. I feel fine, I just don’t really remember the last few weeks. It’s liberating, really. If Enrico is completely not into me, I’m glad I don’t remember it.”

“Memories are important… they keep us from forgetting stuff and doing it again,” I muttered, still raw at the idea that forgetting could be a blessing.

“I’ll never repeat it — I promise. I’m already over it and ready to do something fun. Are you in?”

“Stop, you’re too peppy, I can’t handle it right now,” I said, collapsing on the couch.

I’d barely slept in three nights, and it was threatening to come crashing down on me any moment. I rubbed my bleary eyes. My contacts were gritty and dry. Putting Sol on speaker, I headed to the bathroom to take them out, putting my glasses on instead.

I caught sight of myself in the mirror and nearly screamed. Yikes. I didn’t just feel like a cave dweller, I looked like one… or like some type of anemic, underfed, nocturnal animal that had never seen the light of day before. Or a worm. Yeah, worm worked.

“You’ve been MIA for days, and it’s not fair. Who am I supposed to go out with if you won’t play with me? You know Papa only lets me hang out with you.”

I nodded. “He is very wise. The rest of your so-called friends are idiots.”

Sol laughed. “Then it’s confirmed, you need to hang out with me, and go out and meet some sexy members of the opposite sex, before both our lady parts wither and become like dried figs.”

“Thanks for that visual.” I headed back to the living room and sank down on the couch.

“You, specifically, need to go out and get over Bran Flakes, or whatever his name was,” Sol announced airily, drawing a chuckle from me.

“Bran Flakes?”

“Sorry, All Bran O’Connor. Should I keep going? I have cereal puns for days.”

I laughed. “That’s got a nice ring to it, but I’m sorry to burst your bubble, I’ve barely thought about him. Nothing went on there, just drop it.”

“Hmmm, sure it didn’t. Marco caught me up on it all. There was something, I know that for sure, but I guess you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

Why the hell Marco had thought that telling Sol about my brief nothing with Bran was worthy of catching her up on when he was filling in the gaps in her memory, I didn’t know.

“Nothing to tell.”

“In that case, you have no excuse not to come out tonight. If not, maybe Irish will think you’ve been mooning over him, at home, lovestruck and?—”

“Don’t care,” I replied breezily.

“Okay, how about I go out by myself and get in trouble?—”

“Fine! You’re so annoying. I’ll come out,” I snapped.

“Yes! It’s going to be amazing.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“It’s a surprise, but dress fancy. Tonight, we are hanging in high society.”

We wentto an art gallery opening on Fifth. The entire way there, I felt silent eyes on my back. Bran’s men. I’d put money on Declan.

It was cute that he thought I wouldn’t pick up on his tail. I ignored him until we got to the gallery entrance.

“Excuse me, there’s a well-known fine art vandal behind me. He posted online that he’s here tonight to make a statement, film it, and shame the artist. He’s the Irish guy in the leather jacket. Shamrock tattoo on his neck.”

The security guard pulled a face.

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