We always quote the final words of my mother’s favorite artist, Pablo Picasso, so the resident artist is a phenomenal pick.
Jax brightens, flashing a cheesy grin at Rena, who giggles, before he tips his snifter to the painting and the wall of pictures that houses our nostalgia. “ ‘Drink to me, drink to my health, you know I can’t drink anymore.’ ”
“To Mom,” the room erupts in unison before swilling the cognac we only bring out once a year.
As if that broke a spell, spirits lift, and chaotic chatter ensues while we extend our goodbyes to Rena and her family, quickly check on Tessa and sleeping Remy, and head out.
Our first stop is a private dinner while we watch our guests arrive and strategize to make it into the opening ceremony.
We always host on a Tuesday evening because that’s our slowest night, so we book very little aside from this. The emptiness offers endless options. There are numerous conference spaces surrounding the ballroom, and each of those has been transformed into an escape room. At eleven o’clock, a representative for each invited group will be matched with several others—generally those we feel would collaborate well together—while the rest of their party waits and views their challenge on screens set up in pre-event bar areas. When the representatives escape, their entire party is admitted.
The challenges take anywhere from forty-five to ninety minutes, depending on skill level. Since they begin at eleven, being present for the opening ceremony at midnight is a bragging right.
And a hell of a lot of fun for us.
Cash sidles up beside Mercy as we stride through the quiet halls, handing one of her diamond pendant earrings to her as he flicks his intentionally tousled blond hair off his forehead.“You’re the only plus-one we’ve ever had at the Prohibition Ball. The first queen in attendance.”
“How the hell did you get my earring? Did it fall off?” She rubs her lobe and checks the jewelry, noting all the pieces are there.
He shrugs, smug grin in place. “Just a reminder to keep a close eye on your assets tonight. Everyone wants to touch royalty.”
She slides it back on while flashing me a bewildered scowl, and I chuckle. Cash is an ass with his street tricks, but he has a valid point. And he’s not referring to her accessories. The guests will be wearing masks, but we won’t. It’s imperative that our identities are unmistakable. And that includes Mercy.
Everyone will be in awe of her.
But once it’s clear she’s mine, she’ll be untouchable.
“Why am I the only woman to ever be escorted to the ball by a Noire brother?”
I wondered when she’d ask that. That’s the thing about Mercy. She never cared about the money or privileges our friendship could provide, so in all the years she saw us prepping for this and knew the deep significance it held, she never asked to come. And I never shared why she couldn’t.
Axel fields that, which lends a far more ominous angle to it. “We’ve always had a firm rule that partners aren’t welcome until they’re ourforever.”
Maddox flicks his butterfly knife around, like he’s wielding a fencing sword. “You don’t peek behind the curtain until you’re part of the show.”
My Viper—the woman Mercy was before Dalton—wouldn’t have been wowed by the pompous side of that statement, but she would have been motivated by the veneration it bestowed. Maybe deep down, that honor still fuels her, but the wounded girl calling the shots probably only hears the threat.
Jax opens the door to our dining suite, an impish glint in his eyes. “And what a show it fucking is.”
Grabbing the back of his neck, I unleash my rebuke. “I swear to Christ, if you set yourself on fire, I’m gonna let you burn.”
He proffers surrendering hands. “Got it, man. No all-consuming flames tonight.”
“Down, bulldozer,” Cash chimes, though I ignore him.
Axel dips his chin to me as we stroll inside. He appreciates anytime I shoulder a scolding for him. They may be adults, but the youngest four can be a handful. In that regard, Ty being responsible for Rena has been a gift.
The suite is arranged the same each year because this night is steeped in tradition. Three walls of glass, the twinkling city lights, and two fireplaces greet us. There’s a round table set for six, couches to lounge on, twelve monitors for our viewing amusement, and sliding doors open to a balcony aglow by golden sconces.
Since it’s late, we indulge in a light dinner while enjoying the entertainment. The aroma of bread and seafood and garlic butter waft in the air. It’s our comfort before the welcome chaos.
By mid-meal, Mercy is so engrossed in the fly-on-the-wall vantage point of our guests escaping that the guard she’s had around her this past month is crumbling.
One group is in sync and will likely be our first crew through. They’re methodical, taking one puzzle at a time and not panicking. Axel is pleased with that. Some of those guys are from organizations that wouldn’t traditionally associate. Often, in these situations, if they strike up a profitable alliance, they feel indebted to us for the connection. Some will even give us a kickback in the hopes of future introductions. But the greatest payoff tends to be their loyalty and favors.
Like I said, it’s our goddamn Super Bowl. Everything’s a play.
Another room is completely stumped, but after some thick tension, they dissolve into resigned laughter. That’s not a loss. Shared experiences lead to bonding, even in defeat.
