Page 32 of Love Bleeds Red
“They all kept telling me how lucky I was to be his son. How I had potential but needed to broaden my horizons. Stop being so naive about how the world works. Accept Alfred’s guidance. They were frothing at the mouth to learn more about my hacking skills too.”
I shift on the bed, bouncing my restless leg. “One of them, some politician with a ridiculous title, kept going on about how young men today are too soft. That my generation doesn’t understand what real power looks like. He said Alfred was trying to educate me properly and I should be grateful.”
“Fucking dicks,” Damon mutters.
“Yeah. And Alfred just sat there nodding and smiling along like they were giving me some kind of gift. The whole weekend felt like an initiation I never asked for. Like they were all waiting for me to prove I belonged in their little club by doing something that would fuck me up forever.”
I pause, remembering the look of disappointment on Alfred’s face when I kept refusing their offers. “They made it clear that refusal meant walking away from everything. My father’s support, his connections, any future in their world. And honestly? It was the easiest decision I ever made. I just wish I would have realized their connection to Bailey. I’ve tried to block that weekend from my mind.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” Blake says. “All of that went on in a completely different country, years ago. How would you know it was anything more than a creepy networking weekend?”
I try to let her words seep into my skin but there’s a barrier shoving the words back into the open air, my entire being yelling that she’s wrong. I was naive. “But the signs?—”
“Which could mean a dozen different things to rich assholes,” Falin interrupts. “You were young and being manipulated by your own father. Don’t blame yourself for not seeing through something that twisted.”
Jasper’s voice chimes in, quieter than usual. “It sounds like they were grooming you. Trying to get you involved so you’d be complicit. So they could use you.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “And when I refused, Alfred went cold. He never gave up entirely, but he saw me leaving as a personal affront.” I hesitate, but then add, “He knows I’m here. I got an invitation to have dinner with him this weekend.”
“Fuck that,” Damon says. “Don’t go anywhere near him.”
“Actually… I think I might have to.”
“What if he has Orlov with him? What if they’ve caught on to your involvement in his massive loss of money… or of his nephew’s death? It’s too risky,” Blake says.
“Yeah, from what you just told us, it sounds like he’s involved with those Brotherhood pieces of shit,” Jasper adds.
“I hear you… but he may know something about Bailey. If there’s any chance, I have to go. I’ll feel him out, play into exactly what he wants from me.”
“Jasper’s right, it’s too dangerous,” Falin argues. “What if he’s trying to trap you?”
“It’s at a fancy restaurant. There’ll be people everywhere. I won’t give him the chance.”
“But—” Falin continues.
“Everything we do is dangerous,” I point out. “But this… looking him in the eye and feeling him out… it might be our best shot at getting in. I know how to handle Alfred. I’ve been doing it my whole life.”
There’s a long pause where I hear shuffling and murmured whispers, then Jasper speaks up. “We’re not letting you do this alone.”
Do I want them to come here already? Drag them into this mess when it could be a false alarm?
“I’m not?—”
“Brother, you’re not winning this fight,” Damon says frankly. “We’re coming there.”
I fuck around with my lip ring, half of me relieved they want to come, the other half terrified to put them in danger. “Fine, but I need time to prepare first. Get my head right, reconnect with some old contacts.”
“What kind of contacts?” Falin asks.
“The kind that can supply me with certainthingsI couldn’t pack in my luggage. But also...” I pause, thinking about The Irons, about the rage I feel bursting at the seams. “I need to get myself ready mentally. Work through some shit.”
“How long?” Jasper asks.
“A few days. I’ll check into other leads, deal with some personal shit… Fly out Friday?” I ask. “The dinner’s not until Saturday.”
“That’ll work,” Damon says. “Gives us time to book flights and get organized.”
“Promise you’ll be safe until we get there,” Blake says.
