Page 34 of Doomed
Of course he does. Xavier’s always been drawn to danger like a moth to flame, especially when that danger comes wrapped in an attractive package.
“You shouldn’t find it fascinating. You should find it concerning.” I down my whiskey, needing the burn to counteract the frustration building in my chest. “We should fire her immediately. I don’t know why we hired her in the first place.”
Xavier leans back in his chair, studying me with an expression that makes me want to punch him. I can see the irony isn’t lost on him—me, the family fuck-up, suddenly advocating for caution.
“Mira Sullivan has written some impressive pieces,” Xavier acknowledges, “but she’s never tried to take down an organization like ours. There’s a vast difference between exposing a corrupt politician or corporate fraud and infiltrating a criminal empire.”
“She’s dangerous,” I insist, wondering why I’m the only one seeing the obvious threat here.
“She’s ambitious,” Xavier corrects me, his tone dismissive. “And entirely out of her depth. Journalists like Sullivan believe they’re untouchable because they carry the shield of the free press. She has no idea what real danger looks like.”
He grabs her invitation and holds it up to the light as if it were a prized possession. Far from deterring him, my revelation has only sparked his interest further. Fucking typical.
“You’re still inviting her? After what I told you?”
“Not only am I inviting her, I’m going to make it impossible for her to decline,” Xavier says, sliding the invitation into its envelope. “I find myself even more intrigued by her. Think about it—she walked into Purgatory of her own volition, believing she could expose us without consequences. That kind of audacity deserves special attention.”
I study his expression, reading between the lines of his carefully chosen words. “You want to play with your food before you devour it.” Not a question. The look on his face makes his intention crystal clear.
“I want to watch her realize exactly what she’s gotten herself into,” he says, sealing the envelope with a finality that sends a chill down my spine. “If Mira Sullivan comes to the Hollow’s Hunt, I won’t just expose her little investigation—I’ll break her.”
“And if she publishes?”
“The NDA will ensure she can’t.” Xavier smiles, that predatory expression that reminds me why he’s the most dangerous of us all. “By the time I’m finished with her, she’ll question everything she thinks she knows.”
I glance at his desk, noticing another blank invitation. The whiskey has loosened my tongue enough that I decide to change tactics. No point arguing about Mira Sullivan when Xavier’s mind is clearly made up.
“So, who’s the other blank invitation for?” I ask, gesturing toward the pile. “Or are we down to four women this year?”
Xavier leans back in his chair, studying me with renewed interest. “Not decided yet. Why?”
I bite my lip, immediately regretting the tell I’ve had since childhood. Xavier’s eyes narrow slightly, catching the gesture. Fuck.
“You have someone in mind.” It’s not a question.
“Maybe.” My fingers tap against the arm of the chair as I try to appear casual.
“Keira, Mira, Lia, and Sadie are already selected,” Xavier informs me. “If you’re suddenly taking an interest in our guest list, I’m curious to know why.”
I shift in my seat, hating how his scrutiny makes me feel like I’m twelve years old again, caught stealing from the liquor cabinet. I’ve never cared about the guest list before—I usually show up and enjoy whoever catches my eye, but this year is different.
“For fuck’s sake, Knox. Spit it out. Who do you want invited?”
“Bianca,” I say. “Bianca Hayes.”
Recognition flashes in Xavier’s eyes. “Bianca Hayes,” he repeats, his voice tinged with amusement. “My, my... the woman who told you your taste in art was ‘slightly more refined than a college freshman with their first credit card’? That Bianca Hayes?”
I scowl, hating the way he’s enjoying this. “She’s... interesting.”
“Interesting,” Xavier echoes. “That’s certainly one word for a woman who seems entirely immune to your particular brand of bullshit.”
“Fuck you, Xavier,” I growl, slumping further into the chair.
Xavier chuckles, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to see me squirm. I hate being on this side of the teasing—it’s much more fun when I’m the one doing it to others.
“What’s wrong, little brother? You dish it out to everyone who crosses your path, but can’t take it when it comes back your way?” He taps the blank envelope against his desk. “Seems only fair after years of your relentless commentary on everyone else’s interests.”
“Are you inviting her or not?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
