Greyson gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s objectively attractive. He’s the kind of man carved right out of a sports magazine, with cropped brown hair, piercing green eyes, and a jaw that looks like it was designed to clench. But there’s something about him that’s off. The glamour sits on the surface, polished and easy on the eyes, but underneath it hides something darker. Something ugly.
“Enlighten me,” I say as I dig into my pocket for my cigarettes.
I pull one out and place it between my lips, wondering why he still hasn’t given me a reason why I am here. And at this point, I’m wondering why the fuck I bothered coming. Greyson smirks, but it fades quickly.
“Have you ever wondered about Thiago?”
The question catches me off guard, and so does the response that sits at the tip of my tongue. That I do. I wonder about him all the time, but I don’t say that. Instead, I respond with a question of my own. “What about him?”
“Everything?” he says flatly. “I guess the proper question would be, do you trust him?”
“Can you really trust anyone in this world?”
He nods at that. “What about the midfielder?”
My eyes narrow; he’s crossing a dangerous line. Safra is one thing, but Nico is entirely different. He’s my family. My brother. Greyson watches me carefully, then pulls his phone from his pocket. “You should see this.”
He unlocks it and turns the screen towards me. A grainy security feed plays– timestamped from the night of the hunt. My body goes rigid, bile climbs its way up my throat, and blood rushes to my ears. The footage shows Safra stepping out of the woods; the glow from a single streetlight illuminates him perfectly. I run my tongue over my teeth, trying to make out where he’s going with all this. This video shows that he was there— in the same spot he found Asher’s body— but we all were.
Greyson shuts off the screen, his voice cold as he says. “He was there, and then Asher’s body was found there. You can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.”
I put on my best poker face, trying not to give him any emotion he can cling to. The image of Thiago, stepping into view, looking like he’s seen a ghost, replays in my brain. Greyson locks the phone and slips it back into his pocket. “He was willing to let your best friend take the heat. Don’t protect him. He won’t return the favor.”
The rain starts again, soft at first, then harder, tapping against the metal rails like a warning. I want to deny it. I want to hit him… walk away from this meet up, but I don’t do any of it. Whatever damage Greyson was intending to inflict, it’s already done. The seed is planted, and it’s rotting fast. He doesn’t know much, but it’s true Thiago was willing to let Nico take the heat, not that I tell him that.
I remain quiet as Greyson walks towards the docks. “Pick a side, Zayden”
I don’t answer. I just watch the rain blur the horizon until Greyson’s figure fades into it.
After my meeting with Greyson, I was called over to Velarium, something about an emergency. My guess is it’s about the assembly today, and has nothing to do with the faculty balls deep in one of the elite’s soon-to-be wives. The side of my mouth quirks upward. I wonder what went through Safra’s head when the video started to play.
Did it piss him off?
Considering he followed me to the locker room, it’s safe to say he didn’t care, or at least was trying to appear like he didn’t. I step inside the club, the bass hums low, pulsing through the floor like a heartbeat. The heady scent of sex mingles with the smell of expensive fragrances and smoke. I slip through a small crowd, keeping to the shadows.
I hear the sound of Peter’s voice cutting through the noise from the VIP section.
“Allison’s family expects an answer soon,” he says. I lean against the door frame, staying out of view as I listen in, scanning the room for Nico, only to find that he’s not here. When I go to pull out my phone to text him, my gaze lands on Safra, who leans into his chair, his sheer white shirt stretching over his tight muscles.
“I don’t want to marry Allison, it’s that simple. That’s the answer.”
Peter’s brow lift. “Then who?”
Thiago’s gaze finds mine, and there’s a small lift to the corner of his mouth before disappearing behind the rim of glass. “Fabiola.”
I couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that wormed its way through my body, slithering up my bloodstream until it settled deep in my chest.
Peter coughs. Clearing his throat. “As in my ex.”
“That very one.”
“Not that I care,” Peter states, as his fingers massage his temple. “You sure?”
Safra gives him a small nod, looking over at Mr. Roberts and Ezra, who sits silently beside his father. “This scandal isn’t good for anyone, and Fabiola fits the image. She’s beautiful, and her family are also shareholders in the firm. Plus, my father already approves.”
Mr. Sergio looks more surprised than like an approving father. His forehead wrinkles, eyes narrowing at Thiago before looking over to Mr. Roberts. “I’m sorry, Christian, you, out of everyone, should know this isn’t something that we can sweep under the rug.”
Ezra pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back his temper. “Why are we so worried about who was inside Allison’s cunt? Why aren’t we talking about who released the video?”
