Tobias looks up from his phone with a raised brow, dressed sharply in a pale blue shirt with long sleeves and blue jeans.
“Youdoknow you can leave the grounds at any time?” he asks.
“And walk around the city by myself?” Xavier shudders, “I refuse. City people are feral.”
“Said like a true foreigner,” I chuckle. Xavier’s face pulls in looks from all over on a bad day. His asian eyes and unblemished skin make him an easy target for all kinds of people… and I meanallkinds. It never stops being hilarious.
Gabriel comes up behind, in a black jacket, white shirt and black jeans, and if you throw in my handsome face, grey long coat, white long sleeves shirt and blue jeans—
I'd say we’re about to give the city a run for its money.
Christian takes one look at our getup and immediately turns around.
“No, no.” I can’t help that I’m grinning as I throw an arm around his shoulder and steer him back around.
“I told you I can change clothes,” Christian lets me steer him away begrudgingly, mumbling and refusing to meet my eyes.
“I’ve seen your clothes, traitor-killer. It’s no difference really.”
He scowls, but I pat his shoulders reassuringly, “Don’t worry, that’s partially what the trip is for. We’re here to save you from yourself.”
He mumbles something else under his breath but soon enough I’ve rallied him into our SUV and Wesley is driving us out of the gates and onto the streets of high society, across the lake that separates our neighbourhood from the bustle of the city.
The silence is a lot more comfortable than it was when we were travelling from Portland. Gabriel and Christian’s initial bad start had lessened into somethinga lot more tolerable, thanks to the consistent sparring sessions. Tobias is a lot more relaxed in his seat than before, when he was keeping one eye on Christian’s movements at all times.
Bit by bit, they’ve all gotten used to him.
Xavier never stops being Xavier. I don’t even know what he’s talking about now, but I know he’s talking. It’s become white noise at this point.
Somehow, I end up thinking about the shootout at the shop in Portland. I’d waved my ass in public for everyone to see, mostly on a whim to bait the Romano family out, but turns out they weren’t completely stupid; the men that came after us couldn't be traced to them, or any other gang for that matter… and we didn't exactly leave any alive to ask questions.
In hindsight, maybe a lapse in judgment.
I’m uncertain if the bastards were just that smart or if it really was someone else who had the gall.
Whatever the case, all my hard work was for nothing and Father wasn’t the least bit pleased. Still, he barely slapped me on the wrist for my recklessness; the moment the family meeting adjourned and my brothers and I stepped out of his office, I’d given Baal this huge grin that earned me a smack across the back of my head.
It’s jealousy really.
In little over an hour, we’re pulling off the main highway and into the De La Vie shopping district, the heftiest one on this side of the state, and Wesley is leaving us behind on the polished walkway.
Even the air on this side of the city feels expensive in my lungs, and when I turn, Christian is looking both out of place and uncomfortable, in his grey sweats and white tee.
But his energy is shining brighter and more beautiful than any of the others lingering in the periphery, and for a single moment, the sight of him is overlapping with the memory of earlier, the sight of his bare chest, and the lines of his body. The briefest trace of his scar beneath my knuckles and the warmth of his stomach.
I pull my gaze away forcefully.
I’m completely zoned out when I step into Louis Vuitton and the store supervisor, Julia, comes to greet me. She’s a mature woman with wavy dark hair and a beaming smile, and I have no choice but to rein myself into the present and drag the socialite gleam to my eye with a practiced smile.
“Julia, you have no idea how much of your help I need today,” I breathe out.
“You’re in luck, Mr. Taiga, you can always count on me to help,” Julia looks around at the familiar faces in the group. “Which one is it today? Has Xavier torn another masterpiece?”
“Thankfully, his sets are still going strong,” I pull Christian forward by the wrist, ignoring the way the contact feels electric. “It’s this unfortunate soul today.”
Julia blinks twice before regaining her composure masterfully, “Understood. This way, please.”
Christian’s expression remains indifferent, but it’s been long enough now that I’ve realized, the colder his mask is, the more uncomfortable his energies become—they become jittery in the air around him, like some mental manifestation of Xavier’s ADHD.
