Page 7 of Master

“Fuck!” I pull to a stop at the curb outside Tristan’s building. “Maybe instead of meeting Tris, we can take the two of you to group therapy. You can talk this shit out.”

“Póg mo thóin,” Declan and Finn spit, nearly in unison.

“So we’re better?” I spin in my seat and get my first glimpse at Finn’s bloodied face. “Or do Conor and I need to leave the two of you in the car to beat the piss out of each other again?”

“Each other?” Declan scoffs as he pushes open the door and climbs over Finn to exit the SUV. “I’m not the one with blood dripping down my face.” The three of us follow behind into Tristan’s building, past security, and straight to the waiting cab of the elevator.

Wiping his face, Finn spits a mouthful of blood onto the white-tiled floor of the elevator as it opens at Tristan’s apartment. “Jesus, Finn!” Layla exclaims, reaching out to tenderly touch his bloody lower lip as we all step from the cab. “Did you piss off Catlin? Or make an untimely joke about fucking Quinn again?”

“Untimely joke,” he answers, allowing her to inspect his bloodied face. “I didn’t even get the chance to drop the Viagra one I’ve been holding on to for a week.”

“I’ll get you some ice. But I’ll be honest, Finn, I don’t know how he hasn’t killed you yet.” She gives him a gentle pat on the chest.

“You and the rest of us,” I quip.

By the time Layla returns with a bag of ice for Finn’s lip, the five of us have situated ourselves around the fire pit on the penthouse terrace. Tristan eyes a still-searing Declan and Finn nursing his lip before informing of us about his call with Ivan and a proposed truce between us.

“I don’t trust it,” Declan gives his opinion. “Blood and violence have been Ivan’s life for over two decades, and now he suddenly wants peace.”

“I’m with Dec,” Conor agrees.

“I can’t take back the stupid shit I did,” Finn blurts before addressing Declan’s accusation in the SUV and delving into shit that none of us ever talk about. While he’s still the sarcastic,playful shit we have all grown to love, something about Catlin has changed him for the better. Forced him to grow up. He’s still unhinged and impulsive as fuck, but he now owns how that affects us all. “But don’t for a second think that I don’t blame myself for what happened to Quinn. What could’ve happened to Layla or my peanut. Or how they almost took Cat from me.”

“So, your vote?” Tristan presses.

“I’d do anything to ensure Cat, Layla, Quinn, and those kids are safe,” he promises, and for a moment, even Declan appears to soften a little toward him. “And if that means we sit down with the Pakhan… so be it.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” I shake my head and say something I never thought would leave my mouth. “I agree with Finn. This is about doing whatever it takes to keep those you—no,we—all love safe. And if that means meeting our enemy, then we pull up a chair at that table.”

“Agree,” Tristan nods.

“Fine,” Declan huffs. “But I swear to Christ, if I get shot again, I’m blaming Finn.”

“Same,” Conor chimes.

“What the fuck?” Finn mutters through the bag of ice pressed to his now-swollen lip. “Since when are you on his side?”

A coy smile tugs at Conor’s lips as he quips, “I’m still salty about being denied the opportunity to see Cat’s cotton panties.”

“I thought we were clear about that,” Finn barks, his hands gesturing at Conor. “No thinking about my wife’s panties.”

“Apparently, none of you listen,” I gruff, rising from my seat. “Because I’m pretty sure that fat lip is a reminder that you aren’t supposed to be cracking jokes about fucking Quinn.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

SASHA

ABOUT FOUR MONTHS AGO

“And who do you belong to?” Isaac presses as he holds me on his lap, his hard length rubbing against me.

My eyes dart over the desk at the two men across from us. They are both pretending to be invested in their private conversation, but they are watching us with curious intent. I swallow hard before answering, “You, Sir.”

“Show me,” he whispers in my ear.

“Sir?” I whisper-blurt, uncertain of what he’s asking of me.

Isaac’s fingers pull at the hemline of the white bodycon dress he insisted I wear tonight, not stopping until it bunches at the top of my thighs, barely covering my pantyless pussy. The desk between us and the two men is currently the only thing keeping them from an unfettered view of me. Their eyes keep darting in our direction, and I’m certain they both know exactly what is happening.

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