That scared me most. A man who refused to face his own secrets and his own demons was dangerous, because that refusal to face them usually resulted in lashing out elsewhere. And the way Cassius was acting…
“Do me a favor,” I said quietly, lowering my voice, even though there was no one within a dozen feet of us. “If you get wind of anything significant with the Reapers, tell me. I doubt they’re going to sign papers agreeing to protection terms, but a handshake, a man’s word might as well constitute a contract in that world.”
“I will,” Delilah. “You’re a friend, Sarah. Not just a journalistic source. You know the last thing I want for you is to wind up in a trap of luxury.”
God, wasn’t that the truth.
And it was still all too feasible that Cassius was playing a very long game to break me for what I’d done to Virgil.
I had no idea how the apparent summoning and alliance of the Black Reapers might yet play into this. I might not play into it at all; it might have just been a move to keep the Morril family at a distance, forewarning them to not fuck around and find out.
But I preferred not to be in a spot where finding out myself might get me in serious trouble. It had ruined my family’s life once before, forcing us out of Las Vegas.
I did not care to make the same mistake with Cassius twice.
15
CASSIUS
It was late on a Tuesday night, and I was alone on my penthouse rooftop. No one, not even my brothers, not even Sarah, was here tonight. I had sent my waiter home early; if I wanted something, I would get it myself.
Truth be told, I did not like to be completely alone. I liked the image of being alone, a lone wolf who needed no one and nothing but what he had earned, but I knew myself well enough. Be alone long enough, and certain thoughts and temptations would creep to the top. I would not, had not fucking given into those, but why make life harder than it actually was?
No, tonight, I simply wanted the isolation to figure out what the fuck I was going to do with Sarah Carpenter.
I should have broken her by now; she’d been to, what, three shows? A photoshoot? Shit I’d already forgotten but that she’d probably view as very important for reasons I couldn’t yet fathom? No one would say shattering her by now would be rushing the process; my brothers sure wouldn’t. Fuck, I hated Leo Morrils guts, and he probably was wondering why I hadn’t pulled the trigger now.
I should have, but I hadn’t. And that was because… because…
I was starting to fall for Sarah Carpenter. And that was fucking dangerous.
She would distract me from my goal of conquering the Strip. Given her background, she’d be furious if she found out I was doing my best to rope the Reapers to my side—or rather, to Dante’s side, arm’s length away from me. Not that the distinction would matter to her, though. She’d still be pissed if the connection were there.
And if I became so distracted that the Morrils became the dominant family on the Strip?
My brothers would never let it come to that; they would throw a coup and oust me as CEO of our company if I let myself go that badly. But why even let it come to that?
Suddenly, I wasn’t on the penthouse rooftop. I was on the rooftop of our childhood home. I knew this memory well; it was one I often dreamed of and often thought of in quieter moments, when I was easily distracted.
I had just returned from college, and Virgil was still a relatively young boy, in middle school. He was old enough to know the world was not as innocent as dumb kids’ shows made it out to be, but he was not old enough to know just how corrupt and fucked up it could be. He liked to sit up on the roof, he said, because he felt like he was on top of the world.
And, fuck me, in retrospect, he was. Sure, he—nor I—had more than a few hundred dollars to our name back then. The extent of our power, if you could even call it that, was whatever influence we had in our respective friend circles. But in those days, being on top of the world wasn’t about the zeros in your bank account or the people you could break on a whim, but how you personally felt.
A faint, but real time.
“You don’t talk to me like you used to, Cassius,” Virgil said. His voice was softer then, not quite hardened by puberty. Heonly barely got there in real life, which meant most of my memories were of him as my littlest brother. Unfair to him, perhaps, but sadly he’d never outgrow them. “It feels like you’re an adult now.”
That I was. But at the moment, the comment had felt like an insult, a legal punch but a punch to the face nevertheless.
“How would you have me talk to you, Virgil?”
“Tell me everything,” he said. “We’re family, right? Family always shares everything. We share everything with those we care about the most. We tell the truth, and?—”
I waved my arms. Not because that had happened in the memory, but because I didn’t care to recall this anymore.
Lessons, fucking lessons. Tell the truth. Share with those we most care about.
That was the truth.
