Page 36 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)

MERCY

D iamonds. Beads. Lace. Debauchery. One dress after the next is stunning, but my foul mood leaves them all lacking.

On one hand, I’m a brat, standing in a La Lune Noire suite that has been transformed into a fashion haven to cater to my every belle-of-the-ball fantasy.

On the other, I’m rightfully seething. Over shards and lies and never knowing who the hell I am, what’s real, or what I feel.

Tessa and Remy are playing with his cars, using the leg of an upside-down chair as a makeshift ramp. Their shared giggles slice through my irritation.

“Nervous? Take a deep breath and relax.” Amy points to a grand buffet set out. “Ryker wants you to enjoy yourself and told me to be certain you ate. I knew he’d be over the top and doting if he ever found the right person.”

She must assume my disinterest in these dresses is due to nerves about the Prohibition Ball.

This attracts the most exclusive La Lune Noire members.

For them, this event is more anticipated than Mardi Gras.

It’s invitation only and full of secrets and surprises.

This one night is the pinnacle of Noire exclusivity.

That has nothing to do with my mood though. I’ve managed to avoid alone time with Ryker for the last nine days, but I won’t be able to when I’m on his arm all night.

Playing the lovesick fiancée role, I extend my best puppy-dog pout to Amy while strutting over to the buffet and helping myself to some coffee. “That man is always in the details. Keeping stress off my shoulders at any cost.”

She smacks both hands over her heart. “Aww. So sweet.”

A text pings on my phone. Speak of the devil.

Ryker: I need you in my office as soon as you’re done.

Me: Sounds like a you problem.

Ryker: I have a thousand things on my plate. I’ve given you plenty of space to freeze me out. Tonight is important. Time to cooperate.

He’s surely gripping something to death right now, his knuckles blanching in fury.

That mental imagery pleases me. He’s being dramatic.

I haven’t been freezing him out. We’ve done the mandatory family meals, and he’s been busy, especially with prepping for the event.

Still, I’ve been cordial. Mostly. And I know the Prohibition Ball is important and sentimental, so I’ll be on my best behavior … tonight.

Amy unveils a few more dresses and places them on the rack for me to flip through. “Is that your attentive man now?”

“Of course.” I proffer a sly smile, like we’re in a secret club. “You know how it is with all the endless declarations.”

Tessa snickers from behind me, but Amy doesn’t seem to notice.

“I do.” She bobs her head, her caramel strands swishing from her ponytail while she sets out several more heel options.

“Vander is still like that. Obsessed. Which, from what I’ve heard about the methods Ryker used to convince you to transfer back here, he is too.

And with the way you two look at each other, I’m sure there’s some”—her eyes flit to Remy as she chooses her phrasing—“racy texting going on.”

“For sure. Since we were long distance, I’ve mastered keeping him in a chokehold.” I waggle my brows before swiping my response to Ryker.

Me: You do know how to make a girl swoon. As much fun as it sounds to be one of the thousand things on your plate, I think I’ll pass and let you choke on the rest.

Tessa bounds to her feet, carting Remy toward the food and keeping her voice low as she passes me. “Chokehold? Are you feeding him pussy or cyanide?”

I shrug. “Both.”

Her mouth pops open, turquoise eyes widening with a you’d-better-fill-me-in-on-that-shit glare.

She’s onto me, aware that this engagement isn’t traditional and that I’m hopping mad.

I’m not sure how. I’ve kept my word, and I haven’t revealed anything.

Despite how enraged I feel, especially after my meeting with Axel this week.

He confirmed much of what I’d guessed after talking to Jax and what Ryker had admitted during our hotter-than-hell safe-room blow job.

I’m a lifer. Forever a La Lune Noire employee.

Axel had a lot of upside viewpoints, which centered upon protection and how this was where I belonged anyway.

He insisted that being a member of his executive staff—and therefore, by extension, a member of KORT—would open doors and provide safety far greater than I could even expect when I married Ryker.

I’m also apparently the only one who bought into the fake part of the engagement—well, and Tessa.

He shared a bit about this cabal, and Jax hadn’t been exaggerating. It’s twisted and intense.

What in the ever-loving hell is this shit?

I knew the Noires were connected to various underground organized crime groups, but this exceeds anything my imagination could have trumped up. That’s without even touching the mess with my parents.

Ryker trapped me. And what’s worse is, he trapped Remy.

But the grimmest realization is that Ty—my only contact who has the means to free Remy and me from this—can’t intervene because he, too, is a member of this cabal. While Ryker copped to that, Ty’s inability to intervene on my behalf was yet one more lovely tidbit Axel divulged.

It’s not that I want to leave, but I don’t appreciate the choice being revoked.

Amy selects a few dresses and takes them to the bedroom that we’re using for a changing room as another text pings through.

Ryker: Choking on your mind? I know how much you loved swallowing my cock, but I think I’d rather have you drown me in that sweet pussy.

Friendship obliterated.

If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I’d be capable of resuming our old relationship at this point.

His touch is emblazoned on my bones, seared into the deepest parts of me.

I’ve never had anyone read my body the way he does, knowing exactly what I need—the pressure, the rhythm, the praise.

It’s eviscerating because I crave him. I’ve spent far too many hours fantasizing about what his piercing might feel like inside me.

And that kind of makes me hate him. Another trap.

Me: Are you drunk-dialing me? You should try this on Martina. That inflated ego might be a quick route to send her packing.

Ryker: And why would I do that when it’s so amusing to see how she brings out your inner viper?

I won’t dignify that with a response. The truth is, I’d like to poke Martina’s eyes out after how rude she was to Ryker, bringing up Dalton. I might have if Emma hadn’t shown up.

Martina is too entrenched in this community to be unaware of what Dalton was accused of doing to me.

There was no evidence regarding me presented in Hailey’s trial because Ryker had handled things his own way, but it was still out there.

What kind of horrible human being slings that as a retort at a dueling piano bar?

I loathe that she probably thinks I’m weak. And regardless of how angry I am, I will never let her speak to him like that again.

“Go ahead and eat something.” Amy gestures toward the table with some urgency.

Even though I have no appetite, I plop down with my coffee, some fruit, and a pastry beside Tessa and Remy, scooping some blueberries onto his plate.

Amy truly fits her stylist position. She’s a hopeless romantic. Or maybe it’s simply the fascination of a Noire settling down that has that dreamy expression on her face. “I know you two have been together for a while, but the beginning of a relationship is so full of mystery.”

“Unfolding the mystery is the best.” My feigned agreement spurs the desire to share a detail with Ryker, mainly because it’s an example of me cashing in on a perk of his bullshit contract.

Me: The case with Everett is scheduled for next week.

“I don’t know,” Tessa muses. “I think, sometimes, you’re better off not knowing.”

Amy tilts her head, pondering that. “You can’t have intimacy without getting to know someone.”

“The kind of intimacy I’m after works best with a blindfold.” Tessa pulls some of her silver hair across her face, making Remy laugh and masking the adult nature of her response.

My phone pings, saving me from replying in coded sex speak.

Ryker: I know.

“Oh”—Amy shoos that nonsense—“blindfolds are always welcome and can help them learn their way around.” She flutters her lashes, alluding to the kinks she and Vander must enjoy. “But half the fun of a relationship is how them mastering all the little things leads to more developed feelings.”

Ryker: It’s with Judge Nicholson.

I’m seconds away from screaming. How does he know that before me? That’s Martina’s father. Is that why he knows? I will bury her.

Me: Is there anything you don’t freaking know?

“Deeper feelings, for sure,” I mutter, which pleases Amy.

“I don’t do feelings.” Tessa states that so matter-of-factly, brooking no room for argument.

But Amy is stuck in delulu land, where relationships are normal with an element of mystery that doesn’t involve a cabal. “When someone knows how you take your coffee, what your sleeping habits are, your taste in jewelry, and your favorite show, there’s nothing like it.”

Ryker has known those things about me for years, which is another reason this is all so complicated.

There’s no dating or getting to know each other in this situation.

No taking it slow. It’s zero to sixty, and my whole being is flattened by the force, aside from the fact that he withheld vital truths from me.

Ryker: There is something I don’t know: why you refuse to eat that beignet or the star fruit. It’s your favorite. I had it shipped in from Hawaii. Remember the time we got it at the fruit market downtown? You loved it.

I stare at my dish, which holds a beignet and star fruit and berries.

He’s watching me. I knew he monitored the eye-in-the-sky cameras in the resort, but in a suite? I guess he did arrange this and pick the room.

My heart rate thumps faster, and my blood boils as I release an exasperated grunt.

Amy’s brows dart to the ceiling.

Remy claps. “ Monsters, Inc. growl.”