Page 35 of Seven Sons (Gypsy Brothers)

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. Because I don’t. The unexpected closeness with Dornan has presented both a blessing and a curse – I have unparalleled access to him, his club, and his sons, but at the same time, if I continue, I will have to spend the majority of my time with the person I hate more than anything in the entire world, the person who ripped my entire existence apart and stole everything I ever cared about.

“I think he’s pretty smitten,” Jase says, and I don’t know what I hear in his voice – jealousy? Resignation?

I s

hrug. “I only just met the man. All I wanted was a job at your burlesque club.”

I didn’t want him to shoot my supposed ex-boyfriend – an innocent stranger – and then hold a gun to my head.

“My father’s not the kind of person you say no to,” he says seriously, squinting into the sun.

“And here we are,” I reply.

He doesn’t talk for a few moments, and I use the time to swim in a slow circle around him.

“I’m sorry about my brother, hopped up on fucking energy drinks,” he says finally.

“Pardon?” I ask, stopping my breaststroke. I float in front of him, then put my feet back onto firm sand.

“Chad,” he says, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “People always think he’s high, but he’s not. He drinks those goddamn guarana drinks from the minute he gets up in the morning. Guy’s gonna have a heart attack one of these days. I’ve tried telling him, but …”

I can only imagine how that conversation went.

“I like those drinks,” I say, laughing. “Almost as much as I like beer.”

“Don’t touch the ones in the fridge back at the clubhouse,” he says. “Chad’ll murder you in your sleep. They’re all his apparently.”

I smile vacantly, a twisted idea beginning to form in my mind.

Guy’s gonna have a heart attack one of these days.

My smile turns into a shit-eating grin.

“What?” Jase asks, flicking water in my face.

“Nothing,” I say, flicking water back. “I was just thinking about how good that beer would be right now.”

We drag dry clothes onto our wet bodies, and they cling to our skin as we drink beer and eat fish tacos on

the sidewalk. It grows dark and I watch the fire juggler absently, thinking over the details of my plan.

My mind is suddenly racing so fast that I can barely concentrate on what Jase is saying.

Because I think I have figured out how I am going to kill Chad.

And it will be delicious.

Eighteen

It takes a week to organize my little plan, all the while being fucked by Dornan at every opportunity he can find. He fucks me in the shower, in his office, in his bed, and over a pool table. I thank the stars that he has not thought to fuck me on the stage of the burlesque club, because if he did, I think I would evaporate under the burden of my lies and he would surely guess that my real name is Juliette Portland.

Ten days after my arrival, I enact my plan. It is a quiet Sunday afternoon in the clubhouse, and Chad is alone in the massive garage where all of the bikes are parked. There aren’t many bikes here today – Dornan and most of the club have gone on a ride, and Chad has had to stay back, having just had his knee operated on. I can immediately tell that he is pissed off at being left, and he is hobbling around furiously, clanging spanners and swearing at his bike as it sits on its stand, most of its parts on the floor in messy piles.

I saunter in and close the door behind me, an open can of his favorite energy drink in my hand.

“Hey, Chad,” I say, tilting the can as if I am drinking it. I don’t let a drop of the liquid touch my lips, though.

I mean, I don’t want to die.

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