Page 123 of Stealing Blinds

“She’s a fucking whore,” Danny spits out with a death wish.

Cash knees him in the balls while cutting off his air supply. “You busted in here and attempted to touch what’s mine. Your membership has officially been revoked. Security will see you out, motherfucker.”

Danny’s face is turning eggplant, his eyes bulging, and Cash seems to be relishing it. I remind myself that I’m opposed to murder, no matter how gratifying it is to witness the asshole practically pissing himself.

“Let him go, baby.”

Cash slams Danny’s head against the wall before he releases him, just hard enough to send a warning. “Thank my fucking queen for sparing your life.”

A muscle in Danny’s jaw pulses as he breathes through the excruciating pain between his legs and fights for composure. “Thanks for keeping your lunatic boyfriend under control, SJ.” He snaps my name from my college days to emphasize that he knew a different version of me. But then he turns back to Cash, putting space between them and issuing a threat I find either reckless or intriguing. “You’re nothing outside these walls.”

“If you really believe that, you have nothing to worry about. But we shouldn’t group it with things we know for certain, like, say, an NHL player who threw games for a payoff.”

Danny’s teeth grind, but he leers my way and volleys the threat. “Or the Stanley Cup stolen for the Noires.”

Cash closes the distance between them again. “Be grateful I’m not killing you, Danny. But I can’t guarantee how long that charitable outlook will last, so if I were you, I’d fucking run. Far, far away. Next time I see you, nothing will hold me back.”

Security steps in, ushering a shaken Danny Gordon away. And just like that, wrong is right, and ways are paved.

Cash shuts the door and rushes to my side, unbuckling my wrists, scooping me into his arms, and pushing his leaking cum back inside me. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect. That was some incredible closure, but I’m glad you didn’t kill him.”

He pecks my nose. “When I’m done with him, he’ll wish I had.”

From this new position, that sounds like poetry.

I bury my face in his neck, my adrenaline dissolving into unhinged laughter. “If that’s how you inflict vengeance naked, I can’t wait to see what you can accomplish in a suit.”

We become the masterpiece, and the masterpiece becomes us.

CASH

We lounge in the grand living area on the upper deck, taking in the view. Tangerine skies and a cobalt-blue sea guide us to our destination. The spindrift sprays specks of glittery white that dance in the air and reflect the departing sunrays. A balmy breeze washes over us with the fragrance of salty air and sunbaked wood. And “You and Me” by Sara Watkins plays in the background.

It’s so picturesque that you could almost forget we’re headed into the claws of a cabal. To drink champagne with them before we beat them at their own game.

Sylvie’s ambers land on me with a hint of caution, as if to say, Or they beat us at ours.

That’s not a possibility I’m willing to consider, and yet it’s eleven of us against a mob of who knows how many and countless unknown variables. Execution is everything.

We flew into Rome and picked up the yacht that Axel had purchased for our family to enjoy when we will eventually be checking on our satellite properties. He’s big on incentivizing. He also loves traveling with his wife. But the extravagance is most suitable for our current mission. Billionaires are competitive bastards. Size definitely matters in this subterfuge. The three-hundred-fifteen-foot vessel with a thirty-person crew will do the heavy lifting of telling everyone we came to play, without being a gigayacht monstrosity, trying too hard.

The fact that it’s as decked out as our penthouse yet floating at sea has also allowed us to have a much-needed respite. And Sylvie looked radiant, sunbathing poolside in the one-piece swimsuits I brought for her.

Laughter ripples through us—some sprawled along the couches, others at the bar—our usual family razzing compounded by Ty, Liam, Wells, and Gage getting some witty, well-timed barbs in.

Rena met Sylvie the night we flew out. And like my sister had always been able to do, she saw things with stark clarity, pulling me in for a hug and whispering in my ear, “You’re in love with her.”

“Head over fucking heels.” I chuckled because she’d always been a hopeless romantic, so seeing me enamored probably read as proof that her fairy-tale beliefs had prevailed.

She beamed and moved back to Sylvie, surpassing the initial greeting and small talk by wrapping her arms around her. “I always wanted sisters when I was young, and now I have so many.” Rena released her, but noticed something deeper—maybe how touched my girl was at being so wholeheartedly accepted. “I’m in awe of you messing with this guy. I heard about the wheelie exit. That was a boss-lady move.”

Sylvie burrowed closer, hooking her arms around me as her lips twitched. “He asked for it.”

“No doubt.” Rena smacked my bicep before turning back to Sylvie and subconsciously rubbing her belly, even though she still hadn’t announced the pregnancy. “Welcome to the family, and thank you for what you’re doing for us.”

Sylvie cleared her throat and smiled, soaking in my sister’s carefree joy and squeezing my waist. “No thanks needed. Nothing is too much for this family.”