Page 34 of Double Down
It’s nothing new. It's just the part I hate most about being a Titan and the part I’ve managed, for the most part, to avoid.
The social circle jerk.
The mindless ass-kissing from men who want in on our business, the endless flirting from their wives angling for our beds. Even Maverick looks like he’s over it, and he’s always claimed it was fun.
I have always found it to be beyond tedious—it skates the edge of my tolerance for people and being…well, tolerant.
Even taking their wives back to my bed or some dark corner to let them suck my cock always makes my skin crawl. I didn't want to fuck them. I wanted to destroy them, and more importantly, their husbands.
I want to take them apart and see if there’s anything real beneath the Botox and silicone they love more than their families.
Con and the others have always understood this about me. They’ve filled in the gaps I’ve left, smiled when I couldn’t, talked and laughed and socialized when I refused.
If we’re going to make this quarter work, though, I can’t hide like I usually do.
Even if the only part of the night I actually enjoy is watching our girl.
Phoenix stands out—how can she not, with that hair, that body, and the subtle, unconscious glow that she possesses? She’s like the sun and the moon all at once, warming everyone around her even as she draws them in to their destruction.
Even while glowing so bright, I can see her truth, the darkness behind her eyes, the way her laughter is just as hollow as ours, and her smile…fake. Her eyes dart to the corners, like she’s watching for shadows, waiting for the enemy to spring a trap at any second.
I don't blame her. Honestly, I don’t.
But I would destroy my life in order to protect this woman. She may not understand that now, but she will. They all will.
Soon, the world will see Phoenix for exactly who and what she is.
Everything.
Our families are so obsessed with mythology, being the Titans that they’ve created…it’s no surprise that I see Phoenix as the primordial being that created everything.
She holds the power to destroy the empire our families have built. With one word, she could decimate our legacy.
When I tell myself that she’s everything, I’m not joking.
She smiles, and people who would've looked past her a week ago lean in to devour her presence. Her gaze sweeps the room and misses nothing. Her spine quietly mirrors a woman’s highbrow posture. Her mouth remembers VIP names. When an older woman loses a hand at the poker table, Phoenix is right there, a soft word on her lips, and the woman's smile comes back like a light switched on.
She plays this game like she was born to it.
She jumps with mock enthusiasm that would seem real to anyone else when her number hits on roulette. Then she goes pale when Atticus tells her how much she's won. She even triesto leave the money or give it to Maverick since he gave her the chips. He won't take her winnings, and if he did I'd steal them back.
My little angel isn't comfortable with luxury yet. Money makes her flinch. I’m going to change that.
Not for the first time, I wonder if I dreamed her up.
My gaze shifts to Con. If I did, though, I’m not alone. We’re all captivated, even if some of us hide it better than others.
I want to take her away from here, but I can't. Not yet. But I don't like the way old men watch her ass as she walks by or the way they speak to her tits.
When one brazen asshole puts his hand on her lower back just to let it fall to her ass, I’m ready to remove the offending appendage. But Maverick corrects him and then has him tossed out.
Maverick just saved the bastard's life.
The second our obligations are met, we head upstairs. Phoenix steps into the elevator, slides to the back, and closes her eyes, her body slumping against the paneled wall.
I cut in front of the others, pull her off the wall, and against my chest where she belongs. "You okay, Angel?"
Her eyes stay closed, and she shakes her head.
