Page 190

TEN MONTHS LATER

I loved Ayana. I really did.

But over the course of our relationship, I realized that dating her encompassed one aspect of life that I did not love: social events.

There were dinner parties and charity galas and industry networking events. There were parties for things I didn’t think you could have parties for, like a pet’s birthday. It confounded me as to why my staff insisted on celebrating Shadow’s birthday when we didn’t even know when it was; I’d rescued the damn thing off the street.

Jeremiah said they made up a date for him, which completely destroyed the point of a birthday. No one else seemed to think so when I pointed that out, so here we were, singing Happy Birthday to a fucking cat.

“Oh, look at him! He is just so cute!” Maya gushed after the song finished and everyone clapped. She snapped a photo of a preening Shadow as everyone showered him with pets and treats. “Whose idea was the cake?”

“Vuk’s,” Ayana said before I could pin the blame on her. She’d officially moved into my house over the summer, and she and my staff often ganged up on me on all things Shadow-related. “Don’t let his surliness fool you. He’s totally into this party. He called the baker so much over the past week that the man threatened to quit if Vuk didn’t stop asking him whether he was sure the cake was cat-friendly.”

I frowned.I am not surly.

Ayana patted my hand. “Of course not, dear.”

What was I supposed to do? Let him poison my cat? We would be the ones who’d have to clean up the mess.

I’d ordered a custom mouse-shaped sweet potato cake. We didn’t let Shadow eat sweet potatoes often because it wasn’t good for him, but it was a special occasion—or so people kept telling me.

I’d never used that particular baker before, so excuse me for doing my due diligence. Ayana was the one who’d finally convinced me to throw a huge party, hence why so many friends and business associates were here; she should be happy I didn’t shove a bowl of dry cat food in front of Shadow and call it a day.

“Of course not,” she said reassuringly. “I’m positive the baker understands why you were, uh, soinsistenton checking in every day.”

“I kind of want a cat now, but my mom would kill me.” Maya sighed. “She’s allergic.”

“Vuk.” A cool, familiar voice interrupted our conversation. Dominic appeared with his wife Alessandra by his side. “Can we speak for a moment? Privately.”

“I wanted to talk to you too,” Alessandra told Ayana with a smile. They were acquainted with each other since Alessandra’s mother used to be Ayana’s unofficial model mentor. “My mom’s in the city, and she wanted to see if we could all get together…”

While the women conversed, I slipped away to speak with Dominic. We stepped into the hall outside the dining room, where the main party was held.

I hadn’t told him about my involvement with Roman, nor had I revealed his role in bringing down Emmanuelle to anyone else. There was no point in doing either when they would only cause more complications.

“I’m calling in my favor,” Dominic said. “I have personal news to share with someone, but I need help tracking them down. I’ve tried on my own, but I haven’t been successful. I heard you have…other resources that might be helpful.”

Oh, fuck. I had a feeling I knew who that “someone” was, but I kept my expression neutral and typed out my reply on my phone.

Send me the details. I’ll take care of it.

I hadn’t heard a peep from Roman since last fall. I couldn’t think of anyone else Dominic would want to share personal news with that he couldn’t track down, and I wasn’t eager to make contact with the new Brotherhood leader again.

But a favor owed was a favor owed, and I always kept my promises.

Relief flickered across Dominic’s face. “Thank you.”

When we returned to the party, it had devolved into chaos. Maya was dancing with a bemused-looking Shadow; Xavier and Sloane were lording over an impromptu poker game using cards with different pictures of Shadow printed on the back—where the fuck had those come from? I didn’t remember ordering them—and Jordan was explaining the latest viral internet meme to Jeremiah.

Loud music. Loud laughter. Loudeverything.

My skin prickled.

While Dominic beelined straight back to his wife’s side, I took in the scene and contemplated whether murder at a party I was hosting would be bad form. Then I contemplated whether or not I cared if it was bad form.

Answer: I didn’t.

“You’re thinking of murder, aren’t you?” Ayana came up beside me, her face a portrait of amusement.