“Don’t choke. Guess who’s trending again.” She said, grinning as she held the phone to me.
I didn’t even glance.
“Please not another Thorne heir sex leak,” I muttered, turning the page of the portfolio I’d brought. “I’m trying to keep food down.”
Isla gave a low whistle. “Not Thorne. Crow.”
My pulse actually jumped. I looked and saw Vince was standing in a nightclub hallway, blood on his knuckles, jaw clenched, a metal bat resting across his shoulder like it was normal to walk into a club with one.
“VINCENT CROW GOES FERAL — AGAIN”
The clip started playing automatically.
“Oh my God,” someone gasped, clearly entertained. “He’s actually smiling.”
They passed the phone around. Isla leaned toward me. “You’ve met him, haven’t you? Your father negotiated that weapons clause with the Crows.”
It took me a moment. “Once. Maybe twice.”
“Honestly, he’s gorgeous,” another said. “But I’d never want to be alone with him.”
The video looped again, a different angle this time. Him shouting something I couldn’t hear, but the phrase printed across the bottom of the feed.
Celine laughed nervously. “And they call themselves civilized.”
“They call themselves dynasties,” Isla corrected.
I sat perfectly still, gripping my glass tighter. He looked lethal. Nothing like the man who had smiled, soft and wrecked, when I came against his fingers.
Those same hands had just donethis.
“He’s what, thirty?” Isla was saying. “Imagine dating him. You’d have to sign a waiver.”
Celine scoffed. “Imagine surviving it.”
“Imagine the sex, look at those muscles that man could hold you in any position and he clearly has the fitness to make it last.”
Laughter again. The kind of laughter people make when violence is far away and fascinating. I stared at the still frame that froze on his face, eyes black.
“Maddy?” Isla nudged me. “You’re quiet.”
“I was just thinking,” I tapped my nail on the glass. “That it’s… a lot of blood.”
Celine shrugged. “That’s Crows for you. They don’t do moderation.”
Another laugh. I pushed my chair back before anyone could notice my face.
“Excuse me. Call,” I lied.
No one stopped me. They were too busy talking about Vince.
I crossed the terrace. Inside, the hallway was quieter, lined with mirrors and passed a woman flirting with tennis instructors. I slipped into an empty powder room and locked the door.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at my reflection.
Then I pulled out my own phone. The feed was already waiting on my home screen. I pressed play again. He looked monstrous and heartbreakingly beautiful all at once. I sank down onto the bench.
The man who had told me to sleep, and whisperedyou’re safe,now looked like the reason no one in this city ever really was.
