Page 34 of Violent Little Thing

DELILAH

“ Y ou have no reason to be nervous, Delilah.” Adonis announces the next day, voice low and serious as he locks his hand around my wrist. His fingertips sink into my pulse.

Telling him I’m not nervous would be useless because he can feel the truth. Instead, I attempt to relax as we pull up to the manor for the so-called charity gala.

The instant I turn my head, his eyes snap to mine and the curve of his lips sets my soul at ease.

I have a million and one conflicting emotions when it comes to Adonis, but right now all I feel is lucky to be on the receiving end of one of his rare smiles.

“Nobody in there is gonna touch you,” he says. “And if they do, they won’t make it home tonight.”

The dark promise in his voice and the soft glide of his skin against mine dissipates some of the lingering tension.

Adonis’ touches have grown to be the opposite of infrequent, a development I missed until it was too late. Every time we’re in the same room now, his hands are somewhere on me.

Fingertips grazing.

Palms caressing.

Like he doesn’t know I’m okay if he isn’t touching me.

Biting my lip, I admire the confident set of his jaw and shoulders as the car slows.

Something about Adonis is magnetic despite his preference for being alone. Still, so much about him remains shrouded in mystery even though it feels like he peels away a different layer every time we interact.

I know what I heard about him before he took me, but there’s no evidence of it. No paper trail like there is for Victor.

Just then, the glint of a watch face catches my attention in the semi-dark car, so I shift my focus.

Victor’s hands are anchored at the base of the steering wheel, driving us toward the Rose Manor.

Unlike Adonis, I’ve decoded Victor. At least a part of him. After he told me he went away for twenty years, I Googled him and found the case.

A twenty-year sentence for second degree murder. He beat his sister’s abuser until he succumbed to his injuries and died. Quietly, he served every single day of his sentence and started working for Samson Air right after release. That’s all I could find, but it was all I needed.

I knew there was a reason I always felt safe around him. When I went downstairs for breakfast earlier and spotted him, I almost rushed into his arms in front of Adonis, overcome with gratitude for him finding what I needed about my mother.

Adonis’ mouth near my ear breaks my concentration on the other man. “Stay close to me tonight, menace. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”

A treacherous shiver skates down my back at the cool rush of his breath against my flesh.

I swallow until the lump in my throat is a pebble instead of a boulder.

All of that just for my mouth to run dry at the exact moment Victor idles the car at the end of the long drive.

So much has changed since the last time I was at this manor. And yet, so much has remained the same.

My brother is still spineless for bringing me here without telling me why.

And I still don’t want to witness what goes on within these walls.

Adonis gets out and opens my door for me, his hand extended so I can get out.

Eyes snagging on the upside down rose pinned to his left lapel, I paint an artificial smile on my face and exit the car.

Tonight won’t be anything like the last time I was here. He promised me.

The Lost Rose is a secret society comprised of two ranks: The Obsidian Order and The Crimson Accord. One rank you’re born into and the other you earn your way into, hopeful for a chance at initiation.

To qualify for initiation, some form of sacrifice must be made. The most common sacrifices are financial because The Society thrives on capital. Other times, a woman’s virginity is sacrificed in an auction to a member of The Obsidian Order in exchange for her family’s spot in The Crimson Accord.

I’m surprised I remember all of that, but Adonis has a knack for making info dumping enthralling, exactly what he did last night in between songs in the piano room.

I learned more about The Lost Rose in an hour talking to him than I had my whole life watching the men in my life vie for a spot within their ranks.

According to him, The Society has its own governing body, operating between and beneath the laws civilians abide by. Anything and anyone can disappear if The Society wants them to.

Adonis was born into it while my father did everything in his power to earn his way back into good standing with The Crimson Accord.

Everything except stop being a con artist. My brother followed in his footsteps.

And I…well, here I am on the arm of a man who put a jackknife in the worst laid plans.

His hold is secure around my waist as he talks to someone about planes and I let my eyes roam over the room, studying the ostentatious decor.

A few minutes later, the MC for the night makes a somber announcement about a member’s untimely passing the week prior. Then she goes on to highlight that the man designated a ten-million-dollar donation to be split between five different battered women’s shelters around the state.

Jimmy Garrison.

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I get caught up admiring the dresses of the other attendees instead of trying to make the connection.

I look up in time to see a Black woman who looks around Adonis’ age approaching us with an older man by her side. Both are dressed elegantly in all black, their gazes focused on the man beside me.

They’re only a few steps away from us when I see Adonis in the man. He’s like a reflection of him twenty years into the future and my breath saws out of me in a gasp.

Sensing them, Adonis’ grip on my waist strengthens and he pulls me until not even air can slip between our bodies.

“Hello.” The woman speaks first, her frosty eyes and honeyed voice at odds with each other. “Don, we didn’t know you’d be bringing your…houseguest.”

She stares me up and down, swallowing around the last word as if it’s wedged in her throat. Meanwhile, the man beside her only has eyes for Adonis.

“Delilah, these are my parents: Adriana and Antoine. Mom, dad, this is?—”

Adriana cuts him off. “We know exactly who she is, I just can’t fathom why she’s on your arm at this event instead of where she belongs.”

Where I belong?

“She’s my date, mom. She belongs on my arm until I say different.”

Mom ? Shit. My brain refuses to comprehend, so I stand there staring at her, head cocked in amazement.

“That’s cute, Adonis, but think about the message you’re sending.”

For the first time tonight, Adonis lets go of me, stepping between me and his mother.

“Now is not the time, mom.”

“Watch how you address my wife, son.” The man’s voice is just as gravelly as I expected.

Adonis doesn’t back down. I peek around his shoulder as he stares his mother down until she gives him a devious smirk.

“Come on, Antoine. I see Margaret across the room. I want to ask her about some things she put on the wedding registry .”

I swear there’s a meaningful inflection on her last two words, but she’s gone with her husband by the time I register it.

“Your parents are nice,” I mutter, sarcasm underscoring my tone. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome. Nothing about Adonis alludes to his parents being anything but as calculating and cold as he is.

Catching me by surprise, Adonis engulfs my hand with his and pulls me to the perimeter of the grand ballroom. One tequila on the rocks turns into two when Silas appears with a knowing grin.

“Hi, Delilah.”

“Hey, Silas.” A genuine smile breaks across my face. As much as I tried to box him into the “ain’t shit” category, it’s impossible not to smile around Silas. And his presence relaxes Adonis enough to let go of my hand.

Shaking out my fingers, I study his profile. Every hard line and severe angle is painted in displeasure and the odd desire to fix it plagues me before I tamp it down.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce, already walking away from them.

Adonis catches my arm in time to pull me against him. “You okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I inhale just to get some room from his chest pressed against mine.

Every woodsy, amber-laden note of his cologne wafts into my nose as his gaze lights me on fire.

A swarm of conflicting emotions dance in the depth of his stare before he breaks the eye contact, letting me go. “Victor is going with you.”

And I know from the way he says it, it’s an order, not a request. I back away from him on shaky legs and find Victor near the door, already waiting for me to walk out of the ballroom.

My steps quicken when all the water I drank today catches up with me.

Victor trails me to the ladies’ room and posts up on the opposite wall while I walk inside.

After using the toilet, I make my way to the wall lined with individual sinks and gold-gilded mirrors. My heart is racing after fighting with my dress to hold it up before nature called, and I smile at my reflection, the goofy lift of my mouth making me smile harder at myself.

“Your dress is stunning,” a voice calls behind me.

A moment later, a gorgeous woman dressed in all red appears at the sink beside mine. Her matte ruby lips part and showcase bright white teeth.

“Thank you,” I accept on a whisper, my voice fading as I look her over.

Dark ebony skin contrasts beautifully with the rich pigment of her red gown, her black locs are fashioned in an updo to showcase the delicate composition of her face and her near-onyx eyes have a gleam in them that stops me in my tracks.

She’s stunning.

On a level I can’t explain.

To top it all off, she smells like vanilla and roses.

“You look…gorgeous,” I try not to gush.

“Thank you.” There’s a southern lilt to her words that even those two words sound like an endearment. “I saw you arrive with Adonis. ”

Pulled out of my fog of admiration, I nod, wondering how she saw me, but I didn’t notice her. It’s impossible not to notice her. Then again, I haven’t noticed much outside of Adonis and the way his hands felt on me all night.

“What’s your name?” The woman asks me, beating me to the punch.

“I’m Delilah. Adonis’ date.”

“Nice to meet you, Delilah.” Her smile seems genuine as she turns away from the mirror to face me with her hand outstretched. “I’m Chiara. His fiancée.”