Page 42 of The Final Contract
“Calm down,” Eve sing-songs. “I can get somewhere exclusive. Members-only, high rollers. Stalker boy can’t get in everywhere, surely.”
I don’t like this. Not one bit. I don’t know who the bastard is, where to find him, how to kill him—and meanwhile, she wants to keep prancing around like she’s vetting homecoming dates.
“Eve’s right,” Sera says, defiant. “We can go somewhere private. Jaxon can watch for the scrambler. If he’s around, you guys can… do what you do.”
I stare at her. Long enough she shifts against it. I want to shake her until she sees reason. I want to kiss her so hard she forgets every fucking suitor on that list. Kick Finn and Eve out, throw her on the counter, and show her why she doesn’t need to look at anyone else.
But I don’t. I can’t get involved, because even through her teasing last night, she’s the one set on finding a final contract to spend the rest of her life with.
So instead, I grind out, “If I smell anything, we’re leaving.”
“Of course.” She meets my eyes, unflinching.
“This stalker escalates again, and this is over,” I add. “Dates are done.”
“Captain Killjoy,” Eve mutters.
“I’m serious.”
Eve just smirks. “Trust us—we know.”
I roll my eyes as Seraphina leans toward her. “Set it up.”
They sweep up the remnants of breakfast while Finn and I clear the table. Then the girls disappear into my room so Sera can change, leaving me pacing my own kitchen like a caged fucking animal.
Finn pours himself another coffee, like the man’s got it hooked into his veins twenty-four-seven.
He leans back against the counter, mug in hand. “I know, you don’t like it, but maybe it’s good she’s goin’ out. Might draw this prick out, force him to move. If she stays locked in the penthouse, he could just wait her out. Five years, Kill. He’s already proven he’ll wait.”
It pisses me off. “Then we use a decoy. Someone else to lure him out without putting her in the crosshairs.”
Finn shakes his head, patient as always. “That’s just puttin’ someone else on the line. You know it. This—” he nods toward the closed door of my bedroom, “—this is the best we’ve got. Bring her out, show her off, pull him from the shadows.”
A pause stretches. From behind the door, I catch the sound of Sera and Eve giggling, muffled but bright. It twists something sharp in my chest.
I rub my eyes, jaw aching. “I’ll think of something else. Some other plan.”
Finn’s quiet a beat, then says carefully, “I know you’ve stayed away from the family… but?—”
“No.” My answer is instant, hard.
He studies me, but I see the uncle in him, not the soldier. He walked away from the Irish too. Got out a little after I did. He knows why I left, why I won’t go back.
“You don’t have to talk to your brother,” Finn says anyway, soft but steady. “But you could pull on a few old strings. Some of the boys are only still there ’cause they can’t get out. But if it came down to it—between you and him?—”
“That’s enough.” My voice is low, dangerous.
He doesn’t. “They’d choose you, Kill. And you know it.”
I give him a long, hard look. My gut twists with the ghosts I’ve tried to bury—memories of blood on my hands, the crime family I was born into, the one my brother runs now because I walked away from the throne.
“No.” My tone is harsh. Final.
“No Irish.”
The dress fits like a second skin. Black, asymmetrical hem, the slit running high enough to tease with every step. Against my tan and blonde hair, it’s a warning flare—look here, want this, never touch.
Tonight’s venue is members-only. Premier access, exclusive drinks, whispered promises in velvet booths. The Ledger’s name opens doors everywhere.
