Page 9 of Lover Forbidden (The Black Dagger Brotherhood #23)

“Go and roll bandages if you want, I’m working the rest of this shift—”

“The fuck you are. You’re coming with me.”

The arrogant look that was tossed back at him was bog standard, and even though it would get him murdered for so many reasons—and it was only a fantasy in his mind—Shuli imagined stabbing the asshole a couple of times in the gut just on principle: The only thing the pair of them agreed on was that this mandated arrangement sucked, and the fact that it meant they had to live together was a total kick in the nads.

Before the male could lay down another round of autonomy, Shuli cut in, “You’re not going to make me choose between the friends who are all I have and the roommate I hate more than anything in this godforsaken city.”

“You’re right,” L.W. said with a shrug. “You’re not doing the choosing. I’m doing it for you.”

With that, the heir to the throne ghosted away, dematerializing into thin air.

As Lyric walked back to the club, she burrowed into the man’s coat, smelling his scent, feeling the scratch of the collar under her chin, being weighted by the bulky, loose folds.

Surrounded by women who were buzzing, and led by Marcia in front, she felt like she was part of a fucked-up marching band, and had to beat off a depressed letdown.

But come on, she’d miraculously been saved!

She could be dead, in the middle of the street, her body picked up by emergency-response humans who would find out what she actually was and create all kinds of problems for her fathers and the Brotherhood.

She should be thanking her lucky Lassiter that that stranger had come out of nowhere—

What color had his eyes been? She couldn’t seem to remember.

As a matter of fact, she couldn’t exactly call him to mind. Then again, there had been a lot to be distracted by.

Maybe she’d gotten hit on the head after all.

When Marcia got to the start of the alley, she called over one of the security guys from the wait line, and he stopped the crowd from following any farther. The breathing room was good. Now she just needed even more space.

Halting, she turned to Marcia—

The woman put up a palm before Lyric could say anything. “You have no idea what this has done for your career. You’re going to be trending on Zideo in a half hour with all that posting. If you aren’t already .”

As the words registered in her ears, Lyric’s chaotic brain couldn’t translate them. “I’m sorry… what?”

“You can’t pay for the kind of exposure you’re going to get after tonight. The world lives for a good romance story and you gave ’em a helluva one in the middle of that street out there.”

“There’s no romance, no story.” Lyric studiously ignored a flush of heat. “That was a complete stranger and dumb luck.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Marcia’s eyes went up and down the coat. “The currency you’re trading in is emotion , and there are few things that make a better setup than a damsel in distress and a fucking hot construction worker—”

“I can’t do this anymore.” She looked to all the people with camera phones being held back by the bouncer’s wide arms. “I’m going home and I’m closing my socials. I’m done.”

Marcia’s eyes narrowed. And then, for once, there was no hyperbole. No grand gestures.

In a low voice, the woman said, “You hired me to grow your business. You don’t have to like me, or approve of the way I do my job.

But you signed a contract with me, I arranged this event for you, and you are not going to leave those people high and dry after they nearly saw you killed.

Don’t do it for the views, fine. Fuck me off, too—you think that hasn’t been done before?

Just don’t get all precious about how ‘ugly’ behind the curtain is when you’re getting exactly what you asked for. ”

Lyric opened her mouth. Shut it.

Turned to the battered steel door that opened into the club.

“This is not how I thought it was all going to turn out.”

“That’s life,” Marcia muttered. “If it goes otherwise, you’re too dumb to understand what’s happening.”

The woman marched over and opened things up. And then she just stood there as the blue glow bled out into the alley along with some measure of the interior’s heat and a thumping bass beat that went right into Lyric’s skull.

“You can turn your new leaf over after you’ve met your obligations.

” Marcia swooped her hand, all lead-the-way-inside.

“And yes, you can absolutely pretend that this is a dishonorable, exploitive way of making a living—but only after you do the job you sold to these people who paid good money to show up, in the cold, and wait for you to stand in a three-thousand-dollar pair of shoes that you’re going to throw out as soon as you get home because you’ve ruined them in the fucking snow. ”

Lyric glanced out toward the wait line and again felt a hollow, ringing exhaustion. Especially because she didn’t know what had happened to Allhan. She could only hope that he’d made it back okay.

“After this, I’m done.”

“If I can get you out of R2E.” That hand swooped once again toward the interior. “And yes, I already lined that up before you were nearly wiped out by Valentina’s billboard.”

Great , Lyric thought.

With dread, she reentered the VIP area. People had already been let in, with the line snaking through the cordoned pathway to the step and repeat. As soon as she was spotted, a cheer went up and cell phone flashes started going off.

The faces were excited and hopeful, the bodies jumping, the crowd sending nothing but warmth and support her way. And this was everything she had wanted… once.

Glancing down at Marcia, she said, “You’re right. I can’t leave now.”

Marcia nodded in a bored way. “I’m always right. At least about this. And now for another truth bomb. The sooner you get started, the sooner it’s over. Up to the step and repeat you go—oh, Svet, darling, right? Can you believe it? She was nearly killed !”

As the other woman came flying over, she had her cell phone out. “I can’t believe it, no ! Look what happened to you!”

The jealousy on her face was mostly hidden, and as she dipped in for a selfie, all Lyric could think was, Jesus, you actually wanted to be the one out in that street?

Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile for the iPhone, and then got to walking—in those expensive, ruined shoes that Marcia was, yup, right about: She was going to toss them when she got home, and she abruptly thought about the rest of her wardrobe.

She had two closets full of beautiful, expensive clothing, all of which had been bought by exactly the kind of money that she’d brought in tonight.

The problem was not the crowd who’d come here. It was the content machine: the social media platforms, the managers, the influencers, who all worked together to create fantasy out of what was supposedly real, and turned people like her into false idols.

She thought about that man who had rushed out to help her, without any thought for his own safety.

Now that was real .

When she got beside the step and repeat, she went to take off his construction jacket.

Marcia leaned in from out of nowhere. “You should keep that on.”

Of course. Better for the pictures.

“Let’s bring the first person through,” Lyric said grimly as she rolled up the big, loose sleeves.