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I could only barely hear Rome speaking beside me, but made out a few words like‘Money. Debt. Protection. Kill’.

The usual buzzwords of our family.

There was always some crisis, someone to protect, someone to kill. They were all involved, all a part of it, except for me—the silly littleprincessawho could not be trusted.

“We have no idea where they’re even storing the stuff now. Toni’s been working day and night to find out where they might be putting it all.”

“Maybe they’re not storing it,” I suggested, leaning in close and resting my chin on Rome’s shoulder.

“Zar,” she chuckled, shrugging me off. “You don’t even know what we’re talking about.”

“You’re talking about the Redline Angels and the new shipment of weapons that went out without Toni’s authority, blah.” I rolled my eyes, still swaying and vibing.

“Well—”

“Maybe they’re not bothering to store it. Maybe they’re moving it off straight away,” I said, booping her on the nose with my finger as I slid off my stool, drink in hand, to find someone more interesting to talk to.

Rome looked at me, and then looked back at Gwen, and their conversation intensified.

I rolled my eyes.

Jesus.

Nearly two a.m. and they were still talking about that boring shit. I grew up around it and still did not understand the appeal. I didn’t understand the drama that came along with it either.

It seemed like most of their problems could be solved by sitting down and having a chat.

But no, everything was so serious.

“Don’t worry about it, Zar. Play with your toys.”

“Don’t worry about it, Zar. Here, go shopping.”

“Don’t worry about it, Zar. Here, have a drink.”

Eventually, they got what they wanted and I stopped worrying.

I was moving through the floor once again, grooving by myself and riding my buzz, when I felt a stubby finger tap me on the shoulder.

“Hi there,” a man in a suit drawled. “What’s your name?”

But I was busy.

I was looking towards the back wall, where that tall, dark, and handsome stranger who had offered me a light was leaning oh so casually. I pursed my lips at him and he smirked.

Had he followed me here?

The man beside me cleared his throat and tried again. “Excuse me? Miss?”

“Mmm?” I hummed, not taking my eyes off the stranger.

“Your name?”

The stranger beckoned me with one finger and a come hither motion.

I looked at the man in the suit once. “My name?”

“Yes. Your name.” There was a bite of frustration in his voice now.