Griffin takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head. “You can pay off a bastard’s mother. They don't have to come out of the woodwork. Their mothers don't have to get married… to you.” I know Scarlett must be hearing this conversation, and it will break her heart. “Was she just a fuck? Or do you love her?”
I have to let Griffin in if I want his help. “Scarlett is a remarkable human being and Rayne is my beautiful daughter who I’m grateful for and treasure. Scarlett is wanted and adored. She’s never been just a fuck, and yes I love her. I want Scarlett off the table. She's sacred and so is my daughter. That is all I'm going to spill to you.”
I can’t let Scarlett get too involved in any of CSS’s business. Wives in the society are accomplices. Wives have power and are equally as capable of murder and espionage as their husbands. My own wife proved herself this evening. CSS marriages are alliances; they are power plays for the ultimate reward. My marriage to Scarlett was a love match and I want her protected from all that CSS could rob from her soul. Lord knows they’d already sucked mine dry. The last thing I want is to lose the sweetest and most vital parts of her or my daughter.
“That's a tall order keeping them out of the light. At some point, you're going to be asked to sacrifice.”
“I have money and the means to keep my wife protected.”
“And yet she was kidnapped…”
“Which is why I need you to find out whose prints are on these trays.”
“Tell me why and I can help you, Beck. You do this alone.”
“As you know, Carl is asking for Omexadal to be deconstructed and used to destroy immunity in an undetectable drug. I don’t know who else is involved in this but Concadia is being used in some way. That’s all I know at the moment.”
“Carl is part of our law firm. He is shady as fuck, but I never really thought of him as someone who covets world domination. I’ll get these prints and find out who he might be working with. It’s best we get on this tonight and get the info before everyone leaves. I can have my forensics guy bring his kit here. What does Scarlett know?”
“Scarlett knows all of it. She got the tray. I was hoping to take her home as my sister is watching the baby, but we’ll stay here. This is infinitely more important. Did you eat? I was going to have something sent up for my wife and me. You’re welcome to join us.”
“One big happy family,” he quips.
“Jealous?” I doubt he is; marriage comes with constrictions and he doesn’t like those.
“Your wife is pretty. I might be.” He flashes me a snide grin.
“Oh, she’s more than pretty.” I play along.
“Do I come out now and tell you I've heard every word you've said or later?” Scarlett steps out of the bedroom and smiles at us, wearing a pair of floppy sweats and a white tank top without a bra. I really want her to put her tits away.
“Now,” I say. “I’m about to order us something to eat. What would you like?” I try to go about business as usual.
“Salad. Any kind,” she says, taking a seat at the table with Griffin and me.
“And a steak. You need protein. Griffin?” I look at my friend.
“Salad and steak sounds fine,” he says, staring up at my wife in a way that makes me want to punch his face.
“Stop gawking, Griffin. I know how clumsy you are with women.” This makes Griffin scoff and Scarlett giggles a little.
“Ah, your husband, always the asshole,” he quips and we are back to our usual banter, despite the danger he is getting into with us.
“Tell me about it,” she says. That makes my hair bristle, but she is holding her own.
“One day,” Griffin flirts, and I hate him for it.
A little while later there is a knock at the door and I think for a second it is the forensics guy, but it is our food. We have a pleasant meal together. We finish most of the food on our plates except for Scarlett who isn't eating enough. I will have to train her to eat more substantially.
A knock comes at the door. “NYPD,” comes a voice from the hallway. My heart beats out of my chest and my blood freezes.
Griffin gets up and opens the door. “Come on in, Matthew. Can I get you something to drink?” I realize that this police officer is on his payroll. Griffin gives the man a tight smile and he returns it; they aren’t friends, but obviously have some kind of arrangement.
“Still on the clock,” he says.
“Pity,” is Griffin’s response.
Matthew dusts the catering tray for prints and is able to lift them and process them on an app on his smartphone. The whole thing takes about fifteen minutes.
