“Why aren’t you ready?” Owen asks, closing the door behind him until it locks with an automatic click. “You have to be down at the ball in an hour.”
I pour myself a whiskey neat into a scotch glass provided by the Ritz Carlton and take a swig. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get dressed Owen. I’ll be ready. I only have to put on my suit.”
“Well, don’t we sound cheery,” Owen says, sticking his hands in his pockets.
I deadpan him, annoyed, and slightly pissed off that everyone thinks I should be in a grand mood right now. “Yeah, Owen? How would you feel if you were about to walk into all the people you used to know, thinking you killed someone in their circle, then stand in front of you father that you haven’t seen in seven years, then on top of that, because that’s fun, right?” I down the rest of my whiskey and slam it on the bar top. “I have to see the woman, the only woman, I’ve ever cared about and let her go, again. Don’t stand there and patronize me, Owen. You have no idea the dread I’m feeling. You have no idea how bad I am ready to sell out my share of the Underground Kings, and fucking walk away.”
“You don’t mean that,” he gasps, straightening from his relaxed position.
No, I don’t, but I’m that angry. “I don’t mean it,” I sigh, lowering my head between my shoulders as I grip the countertop with my hands. “But I’m about to walk into the wolf’s den and I’m going to get torn apart and you guys think it’s going to be cake. You act like I’m not allowed to be bothered.”
“You’ve never been bothered by anything else before.”
I sling my arm over the bar top and the glass and alcohol bottles fly off, then slam against the window. I’m fucking fuming now. I charge at him in my towel, not caring that I’m half freaking nude. “I’m allowed to be bothered about this! I’m allowed to be upset about this. Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself? You act like I’m not allowed to feel anything except happiness when I’m about to walk into a time machine. Who knows what will happen, I might not make it out of here alive when her parents see me. Hell, when my father sees me. Ever think of that? No, of course not. Just get out, Owen. Get out,” I say, exhausted. “I’ll fucking deal with it.”
“Heaven—”
“—Get. Out,” I bite out, about to lose my mind on him again.
He is crestfallen and it sucks that I’ve hurt my best friend, but I’m getting really tired of everyone thinking I’ll just let this roll off my shoulders. I’m human. I’m allowed to be angry. He nods and pushes off the wall with his foot and heads out the door. I drop to my elbows and scrub my hands over my face.
“Damn it,” I curse, wishing I hadn’t wasted all of that alcohol. Shit, I even cracked the window.
Good.
It can go on Jaxon’s credit card. If he wants me to do this, it sure as hell isn’t going to come for free.
I whip off the towel and toss it on the bed, then unzip the garment bag to show the expensive suit. I take the sleeve between my fingers and feel the expensive threads, whistling under my breath at how soft it is. Damn, this is nice.
I still don’t want to wear it.
But I will, for the team, for everyone that needs me to do this, I’ll put on the expensive, beautiful, suit and look fucking good in it.
Taking the suit jacket off the hook, I lay it flat on the bed, then unfold the pants from the rod, and slip them on. I forgo the underwear. If there is one thing I can be cocky about, it’s how my dick looks in suit pants without briefs. Careful to tuck myself in, I zip up, and circle the belt through the pant loops, then buckle it.
After the under shirt and dress shirt, I throw on the suit jacket, and grab the box of gold cuff links from my pocket. My initials are carved into them. I’ve had them since I was fifteen. They were a gift from my dad. He said I was ‘officially’ a man.
When I’m done getting dressed, I bend over to lace my shoes together, then stand. I walk to the mirror and check myself out, run my fingers through my hair, and tug on the suit blazer. I look good, but I’d look better with Heather on my arm.
Damn, I’m nervous. I feel like I’m about to take down the entire political freaking party, but I can do that without a stitch. It’s Heather I’m nervous about. I grab the earpiece, grumble my dissatisfaction to myself, and turn it on before placing it in.
“Testing,” Sebastian says, making sure the earpiece works.
“Yep. Hear you loud and clear.”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding. He is pissed off.”
“I can hear you, Sebastian. The more you guys talk about me like I can’t, the angrier I’ll become.”
“Zeke is already down there, Heaven. He is talking to a cartel leader who also is the mayor of San Diego.”
“How do they get away with shit like this?”
“Hell if I know,” Jaxon says. “Also, there is a surprise in your right suit pocket.”
“I swear if it is condoms
guys, I’m so not in the mood,” I groan, digging into the right pocket like they said and my brows furrow when I grab something thin, yet hard. I pull it out and notice it is a mask. “It’s a masquerade ball?” I ask, noting the plain silver that is going to block half of my face.