Page 95 of House Rules
“Nope.” Maverick stops me cold. “Nobody in this room is stupid enough to believe that women are attacked because of what they wear. Try again. This time, try not talking out of your ass.”
“Nowa man believes that a dress isn’t an invitation? Fucking figures.” No one replies to my jibe, and after a moment I huff in defeat. “Fine. I went for a walk because I was mad, and Storm was following me. But apparently someone else was, too.”
“Two men,” Storm says. “One tall with a 1970s dirty-cop mustache. The other—shorter, balding, smells like bacon bits.”
“Who are they?” Atticus asks, eyes locked on mine.
I lick my lips and roll them inward. This is it. The moment I decide if I’m going to put my life in the hands of the Titans—four notoriously cruel, womanizing assholes who buy their way out oftrouble. Four men who did something so terrible no one talks about it, but it still got them expelled, even after their families tried to buy their way out.
Do I trust them with my life?
Or do I lie and hope they never find out?
I think about it for a moment and realize—lying won’t save me.
Even if they believe whatever ridiculous story I come up with, I’ll still have the mob to deal with. And dealing with the mob means being turned out as a prostitute, and probably beaten and raped for years.
At least if the Titans turn on me, they’ll just kill me. I slump back in the chair.
“They’re thugs who work for a local bookie backed by the mob,” I say.
They all stare at me like I just started speaking another language.
“I know all of those words individually,” Atticus says. “But they don’t make sense coming out of your mouth.”
“My father got a loan from a loan shark and placed a bet with a bookie for the big poker tournament last spring.”
“Your father came in dead last in that tournament,” Maverick says. “Made a huge scene about it.”
I nod. I didn’t know that, but it’s very on-brand for him.
“And when he realized he couldn’t pay the money back to the mob, he stuck a rifle in his mouth,” I say, unflinching. “Right in my kitchen. Did you know they don’t clean after they take the body? It took me days to get that kitchen clean enough that I could go in there without wanting to vomit.”
I don’t know why I tell them that. It’s not like they care. But I haven’t been able to tell anyone else, and the detail just kind of stuck with me.
Atticus pushes his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. Storm looks away. Maverick clears his throat.
“So why are they after you?” Con asks.
“Because they want their money,” I shrug. “And if I can’t give them the money, they want to take me instead. Make me earn back my father’s debt.”
“Earn back how?” Maverick asks.
Everyone shoots him a look.
Maverick glances down. His jaw twitches, and for once, he has no comeback.
“Okay, fine,” he mutters. “So that’s why you took the contract. The payout at the end would let you clear your father’s debt. Why are they bothering you now? You’re nowhere near even halfway done.”
“They don’t know about the payout,” I say. “I offered them money, but they only gave me twenty-four hours to come up with it. So I told them I could get them information.”
“What kind of information?” Atticus’s voice sharpens.
“Honestly?” I slump back in my chair. “I don’t know.”
“Earlier that day, I heard about the girls going missing. Some of the staff think you might be involved. That’s when I was offered the contract. So I told the mobsters I’d spy on you. Give them dirt. See if you were really behind it and if they could blackmail you.”
“That is the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” Atticus scoffs.
