“Breathe,” she laughs quietly as we step out of the elevator and into the Moon Room, astunning, ultra-luxe cocktail lounge and club on the top floor of one of midtown’s newest and tallest buildings. “You look hot asfuck.”
The shimmery, cowl-neck dress—pink, duhh—is crazy revealing, with a neckline that plunges halfway to my navel, a low back hovering just above my butt crease, and a hemline that straddles the line between sexpot and whore.
And yet, the cut, the material, and the way it fits keep things elegant and out of stripper territory. I think a lot of that is my slimmer, athletic build. Gabby’s butt and boobs in this thing would stop traffic.
“So do you,” I grin, eying the jaw-dropping blood-red number she’s wearing that goes stunningly with her tanned Italian complexion and dark hair.
“Well, then let’s go mingle and make your Adept feel like an idiot for forgetting to invite you.”
I have theories about hers, and I’m sure she does too about mine. But we have this unspoken thing where we still haven’t told each other who our Adepts are. I’ve brought it up, but Gabby keeps brusquely shutting it down. It's strange, considering all the other ways she’s constantly breaking the rules.
We grab champagne from the bar set up at one side of the massive lounge. I feel a nervous throb of excitement ripple through me as I survey the scene, taking a bigger gulp of bubbly than I should.
“You need to calm down, King,” says a rough, low voice behind me.
“Fuck that,” another voice snarls. “What I need to do is go tear Anderson a new asshole andfuck himin it.”
I glance over my shoulder and stiffen when I realize who it is.
Gabby filled me in on Carson King, Gideon Wick and Sebastian Bourne before the last party, explaining they were Vaughn’s closest friends as well as Syndicate inner circle. Carson’s the truly unhinged, manic, crazy one, which feels jarring when you look at his Prince Charming features—blond hair, blue eyes,perfect smile. Sebastian, physically the biggest of the group, is apparently pure malice and brutality. And Gideon, with his dark hair and dark blue eyes, constantly has a lethally brooding, frankly terrifying aura about him.
Right now, it’s Carson who looks like he wants to murder someone with his bare hands, and Gideon who is trying to talk him down, both of them standing behind me and just around the corner of the hallway leading to the bathrooms.
“YouknowAnderson is an asshole,” Gideon says. His voice has an edge to it that sends shivers down my spine. He reminds me of Vaughn: helooksand sounds totally calm, but if you’re paying attention, there’s clearly something dark and brimming with power right under the surface. “It’s his default setting. Chill.”
“I don’t like parent jokes,” Carson seethes, his jaw working as his piercing blue eyes scan the room like he’s looking for something to destroy. “They’re off limits for me, and Anderson fucking knows it.”
Gideon sighs. “Which is exactly why he went there. He likes riling you up, especially since Bancroft didn’t elevate him to the council a few months ago. Can you let it go?”
“Would youlet it goif someone was saying shit like that about your mother?”
Gideon shrugs. “I wouldn't know. I don't remember mine.” He frowns. “Besides, you hate your parents.”
“Yeah, but they’remineto hate. Shitheads like Anderson don’t get to score low blows like that. Iknowmy mom was a whore who fucked anyone with money and power. Iknowthe chances of my dad being my actual dad are probably zero. But fucked if Anderson gets to say it. I'll throw him off the fucking roof.”
I stiffen, my eyes widening.
Holy crap, what?
Diego Torvallés knows his heir is in the Syndicate, and part of the inner circle.
Is itCarson? Could it be that simple?
My heart leaps as I consider that this whole search might be over. What if I could end all this madness tonight? Get in touch with Diego, tell him what I’ve just heard? If I'm right, I’m just…done.
No more need to join the Syndicate. No more unhinged, violent sexual encounters that leave me questioning my own sanity. No more nocturnal visits that leave me wet and streaked with cum. I could say my word and end it all.
But would you?
“I have to go deal with something,” Gideon growls. “Can you promise you won’t do anything supremely stupid like throwing someone off a balcony?”
“No.”
Gideon glares at him and slides closer. “Go find your distraction, then,” he hisses. “Blow off some steam with her.”
Carson scowls. “I’ll think about it.”
“Yeah, you do that,” Gideon mutters, patting his friend on the back before turning and winding his way through the party.
