I didn’t know what was more surprising, that I’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day or that the Butchers had remembered, but walking into the Presidential Suite at the Bowery, it was clear they’d definitely remembered.
Unlike the moody lobby, the room was almost minimalist, although the burgundy-and-gold color scheme was an echo of the rich tones in the public spaces. Rose petals sprinkled the floor, and a bottle of champagne sat in ice on a table next to a box of gourmet chocolates.
“This is huge!” I looked from the sleek living room through open double doors that led to the bedroom. Even from here I could see the giant bed, its headboard arching almost all the way to the ceiling.
“There are a lot of us,” Poe joked.
My cheeks flushed when I returned his grin. It probably wasn’t very common for a foursome to check into one room, and now that he’d mentioned it, I guess itwouldbe a little tight without a big bed.
Beyond the living room a pair of black-framed glass doors separated the suite from a terrace overlooking the city.
“Can I go out?” I asked.
“You can do whatever you want.”
When I turned to meet Bram’s voice, I saw that he was leaning against the wall, looking sexy enough to stop my heart in ripped jeans, a worn T-shirt, and his leather jacket. Even with his big black boots, he looked right at home, like someone who’d stepped out of the city’s rough history and into the landscape of its glossy present.
I opened the doors and was hit with a blast of cold air and a cacophony of distant traffic. The terrace was huge, with a large seating area and a brick wall low enough to allow for views across the city.
I walked to the edge and leaned against the brick wall, looking down at the streets below. It was like another world, not just the hotel, but the city, so much bigger and louder than Blackwell Falls.
And honestly, I was still a little surprised to be here. I’d half expected the Butchers to try and convince me to stay in Blackwell Falls. It had only been a little over a month since Romania, and I knew they still worried about me.
But there had never been any question about my staying behind. We were a team now it seemed, and I liked that theydidn’t try to confine me. It was nice that they worried — I kind of liked that too — but they didn’t expect me to be anyone but who I was, and they’d known that person would want to be in the city for Apex.
Remy draped his jacket over my shoulders from behind, and a few seconds later, I was surrounded by all three of them. They were so beautiful it would be easy to pretend we were here for a romantic overnight.
But I knew better: they were here to kill. I didn’t need them to be anyone but who they were either.
They were Butchers, but they were my Butchers.
“What now?” I asked, looking out over the city.
Tomorrow Ethan Todd was slated to take the debate stage with NYNancy. There had been no mention of her on the Apex schedule, and already people online were calling her a no-show.
It didn’t matter though. Ethan Todd would be there, ready to claim victory, to claim that NYNancy was like every woman when you got right down to it: inferior, incapable of being serious competition for a man.
“Now you get dressed for dinner,” Poe said.
“We’re going out?”
“We need to feed you if we’re going to fuck you.” Bram’s gaze darkened. “And we’re definitely going to fuck you."
38
MAEVE
Minetta Tavern was in Greenwich,a picturesque neighborhood tucked between SoHo and Midtown. Like the hotel, it felt ripped from the past, with narrow cobblestone streets, streetlamps that looked like they belonged in the early 1900s, and low-rise brick buildings interspersed with the occasional brownstone.
Bram took my hand to help me out of the Uber and we stepped into the restaurant, a cozy series of rooms wrapped in dark wood paneling, old-fashioned ceiling tin, and black-and-white checkerboard floors.
The lights were low, candles flickering from every table as the maître d looked up our reservation and led us past a long wooden bar that looked like it had been there for at least a century.
I felt good, confident, probably because it was the first time in ages I’d worn anything other than leggings or a tracksuit. I hadn’t planned on the Valentine’s date, but Remy had told me to bring something nice for dinner, and I silently thanked Bram for the three dresses he’d sent over when he was on his apology tour.
I’d been right to choose the silver one back then, but the red Ferragamo had been the right call for tonight, something I’dknown for sure when I’d emerged from the bedroom to find the Butchers waiting for me in the suite’s living room.
Form fitting and short, the dress was simple, with a high neck, a plunging back, and fringe on the hem. I’d pulled up my hair to make sure the dress was the star and put the focus on my lips with simple makeup and a matching red lip.
