Page 104 of Double Down
He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to choose her, and neither will Conrad. After all, when she had the chance years ago, she didn’t choose us.
26
Maverick
It’s you—youknow that, right? You’re the weak link in this bunch. You’re the one who came up with that student promo.
The voice in my head won’t shut up, but for once I don’t even try to quiet it. I deserve to hear every punishing word.
All of this mess is on you, because you’re the one who opened the door to the fucking mafia. Now the others have to clean up your bullshit.
You didn’t even get pre-authorization on the cards—who fucking doesn’t get pre-auth? They died for your stupid idea, and the resort lost money. You’re the one who led Sarah on, and that poor girl died because of you.
Everyone can see what a fucking liability you are.
Phoenix doesn’t want you; she pities you.
Nobody says it. They don’t have to. We all know it. Just like we all know I am the weak link, the misplaced, talentless Titan.
I lean on the window frame while they assign themselves impossible chores and pretend I’m equally as necessary. Atticushas some epic hacker shit to do. Storm is going through staff, investigating, combing through and reading people to find the truth.
Con is doing some next-level CEO shit, working his ass off to fix all my mistakes.
Outside, the pool looks like something you’d see in a brochure—bright white towels, aquamarine loungers, umbrellas nodding gaily in the breeze.
The sun is shining far too bright for the way this world feels.
“Okay, new idea,” I hear myself say, and I lay out a plan with a voice that sounds like mine, but I’m not even really listening to myself.
Concierge parties, a pre-auth that could buy a small island, a “butler or private host” to help make each party perfect, but really act as a set of eyes in each event.
They nod, and their generic platitudes wash over me.
Good idea, Mav. Smart. Useful.
I accept the pat on the head like a dog that brought back a shoe instead of the paper.
We finally break to go see to our own responsibilities. Atticus disappears back to his lair of monitors and wires. Storm is already texting someone to set up the next round of interviews.
Con lingers for a moment. Maybe he’s going to talk to me to tell me I’m not pulling my weight, or give me some busy work?
He doesn’t. He just looks at his father’s desk with an expression I can’t read. Then he leaves, too.
I stay for a minute longer, my gaze flicking about the empty office. I hate this…feeling of uselessness.
I need my Firebird.
The suite is empty when I get up there. Atticus is in his office, but she isn’t with him. I don’t bother telling him she left against Conrad’s wishes. She isn’t our prisoner. Not anymore.
The bet crosses my mind for a second before I dismiss it. It’s not like she’s going to trust me over the others anyway.
Her phone sits on the table, a clear message that she doesn’t want to be found, at least not by me. I don’t blame her.
Maybe she knows. The thought slices like a knife to my gut, and I find myself leaving the penthouse as quickly as I arrived, heading back to the elevator and jabbing my finger at the button.
Maybe she finally figured out I’ll always be second best at everything, and she’s shifting her attention to the Titans who matter, the ones who deserve her.
Atticus is the brains. Storm is the depth. Conrad is the leader.
