Page 56 of Past

"Fine, but it better be this one. Some advice, bro, don't let this one go, or I'll have to kill you," Sebastian says with a smirk, letting go of the cake and pulling me into a big hug.I feel squashed as Seb hugs me, way too long I might add.

"You know what, you can have the cake if you put my girlfriend down. I would rather have her."

"Damn, why didn’t I think of that? I should have just hugged her quicker," Seb says when he lets me go, and I'm suddenly pulled back into a hard chest with Elliot's arms around my waist.

"Have the cake," Elliot says, pointing to the cake on the table but glaring at Seb, who is grinning. I know that grin, he did that on purpose to get the cake.

"Best birthday." Sebastian sighs, getting a large plate.

"You’re going to make yourself sick," I mutter, but Sebastian ignores me, cutting the cake.

"I have something else I want to eat. We're going to my room," Elliot whispers into my ear, and I smirk.

"Funny, I'm hungry too; how about I find something to suck on?" I whisper back, and I feel how much I'm affecting him against my back.

"Best birthday," Elliot repeats Seb’s word with a whole different meaning before we are moving quickly to his room. Elliot keeps his plan to undress me, and he does it painfully slow. We don't leave his room for the rest of the night.

Chapter 23

Elliot

“Your dad is dead!” Arthur shouts bluntly as he walks into the house. I stand quickly with Harley next to me as Arthur walks into the room with four of his thugs.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Harley says, standing and crossing his arms in front of himself.

“Don’t play fucking games with me, boy. He told me you all knew before I put a bullet in his head.”

The grief I expected to feel isn’t there; in fact, I fucking hoped he would die trying to kill Arthur. I hoped they would fucking kill each other. Father told us last week about his stupid plan to kill his best mate.

“We knew. We couldn’t stop him.” Harley shrugs. Arthur pulls a gun out of his pocket and aims it at my head.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you all.”

“We fight. We are the best, and you know it,” Harley says calmly, if it wasn’t for the tightly clenched fists at his side, I wouldn’t know he was worried.

“You fight for me now. Three-hundred fights, and you win every fucking one of them. If I tell you to fight, you fight,” Arthur says.

It will take us years to fight that off. That’s a stupid amount of fights each. We would be lucky to win that many, we are good, but fuck, that would be a miracle.

“Deal,” Harley says, and Arthur lowers his gun. I was never worried he would fire it. Arthur doesn’t kill people himself, he never does. His guards do it for him. That’s what my father always said. Our father was different, he liked killing people. He told us often enough.

“Where is his body?” Harley asks, a firm demand in his tone.

“On the driveway, next to the trash, where he belongs.” Arthur says before he walks out, with his guards following.

"So here is your final paperwork, the owner wanted to thank you for the quick payment," the estate agent says as she hands over a pile of signed paperwork for my new apartment. It's in the building opposite my club, which I feel will be useful as I plan to be more hands on in my work there.

The apartment is a two bedroom on the top floor. I'm standing in the open-plan living room and kitchen. It is nicely decorated with a modern theme with a white-tiled kitchen and new appliances, which I bought with the apartment, littered around. The lounge has three, two-seater leather sofas in front of a fake fireplace with a large TV above it. I might buy a bigger TV now that I think about it. There are double doors that open to a little balcony in the room too.

I shut the door, saying goodbye to the estate agent, and walk around admiring my new bedroom. I damn well hope Allie likes it enough. It's has a large, dark-wooden bed, nearly the same as the one I have at Harley’s, which takes up a lot of the room. I've brought new wardrobes, which are on each side of the bed, and some matching chest of drawers too. There is an en-suite in this room, and the spare as well.

I take my phone out of my leather jacket and send a quick text to Allie, seeing if I can get her over here today.

Allie: Sure, send me the address, I can be over in about ten x

I quickly send her my new address and then use the bathroom. Allie sends me a text letting me know she has just pulled up, so I open my door after buzzing her in.

When I see her climbing the stairs, I still feel taken aback by how fucking perfect she looks. Her hair is up in a bun but looks messy in a cute way. She looks like she just came out of the gym, wearing yoga pants and a tank top with her coat thrown over the top.

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