Page 24 of Brutal Kingdom

“I love it. It’s the company I’d be keeping that spoils my appetite.”

“That’s funny. Most women love the chance to get next to Graham.”

“He wanted me to show up to dinner at his casino, so he can show me off like a trophy.”

“He thinks you’re hot. What’s wrong with that?”

“Same thing that’s wrong with you sitting across from me, telling me what he thinks. If Graham wants to talk to me, he should figure out how to use the phone and do it himself, instead of sending his driver, guards and now you, to win me over.” That’s not the only thing wrong, but I’m not bringing up the elephant in the room.

“Is that what you want me to tell him?”

“Sure. Do you have the balls to do it?”

He whips out his phone, presses a button and holds it to his ear.

“I delivered the message. Her reply was, man up and come talk to her yourself.” He holds my gaze steady when he says, “Oh, she means it, alright.”

He disconnects the call and stands, unfolding himself from the chair. “Message delivered. Good luck,” he says in a tone that should worry me. The whole situation should worry me. Starting with Rocco approaching me on behalf of Graham Holt, who shouldn’t even know my name.

This is what deceptive tactics get me. I pretended to be a gambler to get closer to Frankie and now I’m on the mafia’s radar. I know Graham is supposed to be legit, but I know who his father is, and Rocco and Rumi’s father takes care of problems for Dominic Moretti.

I should probably stay away from all of them. I’ve already got enough enemies at this school.

ELEVEN

LOGAN

Irecognize Graham Holt from all his appearances in the tabloids and red carpet events. He’s taller than I thought he’d be and definitely less friendly than he looks on tv. And right now, he’s strolling across campus heading towards the Art and Humanities Building. It takes my mind a second to process the news. I look left and see Frankie shifting uncomfortably in his seat, then return my gaze to Graham, keeping my eyes on him until he disappears into the building.

“What’s Graham doing on campus?” Bella asks, as if he’s forwarded an itinerary.

Hal sounds bored when he says, “Maybe he’s looking to commission an original work for his hotel.”

“You think that’s what it is, Frankie?” She asks.

Frankie whips his head to look at Bella and snarls, “Why you asking me? How the hell am I supposed to know?”

He tries to play it cool, but he’s on edge and defensive. He knowssomething. The door opens and I have a bird's-eye view of what Graham’s procured. It’s a five foot five, brown-haired woman with emerald green tips wearing chucks on her feet and a paint smattered smock over her clothes.

“Shit.”Frankie mutters beside me.

Bella’s voice hardens, raising an octave when she asks, “What the hell is he doing withher?”

Frankie pales beside me. We all watch as Graham shoves Jordanna into the back of his car and we continue to track its movements as it speeds away towards the gates.

I keep my reaction in check, like I didn’t just notice my ex getting in a car with the middle child of the Moretti crime family, and I pretend like I don’t know that one of my supposed friends knows something about it.

I hear Bella running through all sorts of scenarios about how Jordanna must be in deep with a loan shark that works for Graham. She actually fucking laughs when she theorizes that he’s come to collect his debt, and sounds hopeful that the collection may include“whacking”her.

Tabitha says, “If he is, no one will ever find the body.”

Frankie’s kinda swaying back and forth now, sweat dotting his forehead, like he’s gonna be sick. They’re all focused on Graham being here to get Jordanna. I was studying his body language. The possessive way he had his hand on her back, leading her to the car. That’s not the hold of a man that’s about to kill a woman. Not in a violent, blood-soaked sort of way.

Bella coasting a high, still thinking Jordanna’s in trouble, volunteers to treat us all to dinner. After agreeing on a restaurant, the group peels off towards our next class. Except Frankie. He’s rooted in place, still staring at where Graham’s car was parked.

“You know anything about that Frankie?” I ask, pointing towards the art building.

“She’s gonna be fine.” He nods his head and repeats a little louder. “She’s gonna be fine.”

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