I led them up to the security floor. There are three floors above the security floor—Sophia's former quarters, which occupy one floor, and mine, which occupi two.
At least, that's how it used to be.
The crew, after the firefight here, rebuilt the Arrow quarters down below and now call it the Quiver. Appropriate enough. They knew I had additional work done on the floors above the club—after Sophia moved out with Lorenzo and into a rented apartment ten minutes away.
What they don't know is that I totally gutted and renovated all three floors. There are full suites for each couple: two bedrooms with en suite bathrooms, a living area, and a gourmet kitchen, all designed around floor-to-ceiling electrochromatic windows. There is now an additional common area on what was solely the security floor—I condensed the various rooms for servers, monitors, and such for security to make room for it.
Now, there are several individual seating areas for conversation around the perimeter, a central electric pass-through fireplace, a theater-sized projector screen with concert-grade surround sound, and a kitchen area. The usual entertainment features abound—foosball, pool, a professional card table, gaming systems, and anything else I could think of. The elevator is now programmed to the keycards as well as individual biometrics.
The crew looks around in confusion.
"What's this?" Solomon asks, glancing at me.
"The new common room." I let out a breath. "I…my hope was that you would all stay on, for a while at least. Maybe help me train a new crew of Broken Arrows."
"So, if there's a new crew going in down there, and this isourcommon room," Silas says, slowly, putting it all together, "then…where are our rooms?"
I grin. "So glad you asked, Silas." I indicate a pile of keycards on the mantel above the fireplace. "The cards are numbered. On the three floors above, there are ten apartments. Nine of them are identical except for position within the building." I sort through the pile until I find the one I want and show it to them, my grin widening, becoming a little arrogant. "Seeing as I paid for it, I’ve reserved the corner suite on the top floor for myself. It is a little bigger than the others. You know, because I'm the boss and all.”
"Apartments?" This is from Rev. "When you say 'apartments'…?"
I gesture at the keycards—heavy black metal inscribed with a scarlet numeral in the same font as the club name on the outside. "See for yourselves."
Brys is smiling as if this whole thing amuses her or something. She leans against me, watching the others excitedly grab keycards and head up to explore.
"C'mon," I tell her. "Let's go see the—my—our…" I swallow hard. "Not sure how to put it. I don't know—we haven't—"
Her lips touch mine, silencing me. "Our. The word you're looking for is 'our', Jakob."
"But…New York. BDI. Your life—“
"Was planned for me from the day I was born. There was never a question that I was going to work for my father. I…I obviously never expected to be CEO, but it was a foregone conclusion that I'd be an executive of some kind, someday. I always assumed I'd be Britt's VP." She shrugs. Looks around. "I…I want this life with you, Jakob. These people. I don't know what it looks like, but that's part of the adventure. I've…I've never traveled, as an adult. We did a lot as a kid, but then college and career took over, and…" she shrugs again. “I’ve already decided I’m going to step down as CEO and sell my shares. Maybe even sell the whole company. I’d have to make sure myidiot brother is taken care of, the useless twit.” She shakes her head, sighing with an eyeroll. “God, Bryan.”
I frown. “You haven’t mentioned your brother till now.”
She shrugs. “Bryan isn’t abadperson; he’s just spoiled, and we have absolutely nothing in common. We’re only three years apart, but our lives are just completely…unaligned, I guess. I was an accidental pregnancy for my parents—they only wanted one child, initially, and got Britt. I came along unexpectedly six years later, and then, a few years after me, Mom got baby on the brain and talked Dad into another one, and I became the middle child. Bryan was a junior in high school when everything with Britt happened, and my father spoiled him and coddled him after her suicide, which is understandable, but it means Bryan has never had to work for anything in his life. He thinkseverythingis going to just be handed to him, which is a burden I never signed up for, but that’s family, right? I don’t always have a lot of patience for him, but heismy brother, so no matter what, I’ll make sure at very least that he’s housed and clothed, although finding a career path he’s suited to has thus far proved somewhat of a challenge.”
She looks away, blows out a breath, and seems to dismiss the topic of her brother. “I’m ready for what's next,” she says, gazing up at me once more, “and I'm hoping you'll let me spend what's next with you—all of you. Whatever it looks like. I’m ready for an adventure.”
"Let you?" I echo, my tone reflecting my stunned disbelief. "Letyou? Brys, I was prepared to beg you to spend every other weekend here with me."
She grins up at me, fingers dancing over my crotch. "You can still beg, Jakob. Just…for other things."
"Perhaps we should go explore our new home."
She looks at me with such love that my soul could explode from the intensity and wonder of it. From the shock that shecould see me that way. Want this with me. So easily just… accept me.
Again, my stupid eyes burn.
She lifts up, frames my face, pulls me down, and kisses each of my eyes. "None of that, if you please, sir."
"Sir, is it?"
"Yes, sir." A breathy, erotic whisper. She slips her hand inside my borrowed sweatpants and clutches me. "Command me, Jakob. Please."
Feral, blazing hunger for her ignites within me—held at bay until now. "Let's go."
I drag her by the wrist to the elevator, tap the keycard against the reader. When the door closes, I pivot, slam her back against the wall, and take her mouth.
