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“Have you two decided on a couple’s Halloween costume yet?” I know Moffy has been leaning towards a superhero pairing, but he’s also wanted to see what Farrow would choose. “No,” Maximoff says. “Because Farrow is being an asshole and leaving this shit up to me.”
“Is there a reason?” I ask too, not expecting this kind of finality from security. Thatcher lowers his voice. “They said it’s probable that our breakup will happen before Halloween.” His gaze softens a fraction on me. That soon? October just began.
Aw no
“Just tell the team that Jane wants this to go past October.” “I tried at the meeting,” Thatcher explains. “Farrow did too.” My lungs swell, liking that they’re both on my side.
I sift through more steampunk corsets and a few frocks. I can feel all three sets of their eyes on my back. And they’re tall. Towering behind me. “Really, I’m fine,” I say loudly.
“I have so many questions,” I say softly, thinking aloud. “I want to know all about you, but I can’t ask fast enough—and when I think about you, I wonder what your hands have held. What your eyes have seen.” My pulse has skyrocketed, but I keep speaking. “What your ears have heard and where your feet have landed.”
“If that sounds disturbing, I’m so sor—” “No,” he cuts me off, one of the few times he ever has. “You’re an American princess. You being comfortable enough to say what’s on your mind in front of me—and to me—is something I don’t take for granted.”
now sex is practically a favorite hobby.” He nods. “Sex feels different with you though.” We both tense at his admission. Treading carefully. “Good different?” I pry a little deeper. “Beyond fucking good, honey,”
“I need to leave Xander, and Banks is going to have to leave at some point soon too. And it’s going to be one of the hardest things we ever do.” I didn’t understand at first, but he said, “It’ll be good for all three of us.” Thatcher explained that Xander relied on them to the point where he’d panic if they needed to take a day off and couldn’t be on his detail. If they needed to switch with a temp for an hour, he’d be more anxious and upset.
“Thatcher?” Xander sounds a little out of breath. “Hey, kid,” Thatcher says, concern lining his forehead. “Jane is here; you’re on speaker.” “Bonjour, Xander,”
“I asked Farrow if he thought it’d be cool if maybe…you, him, and Banks could train me or something. To actually fight in a ring. And I get that you don’t have a lot of off-duty time. It was just an idea I had…”
“Okay, I’m up for this too,” Thatcher suddenly agrees. “I’ll help you in the ring, but with Farrow.” “Yeahyeah,” he says, a joyful smile in his voice. It swells my heart. “Thanks, man. Just text me when you’re free.”
His lips almost tic upward. “I have no doubt you’d be great. But I’m your right-hand, honey. I’m your wingman.” I smile a very overwhelming smile. “And you’ve been a superb wingman, but maybe my wingman needs a wingwoman from time to time, and I’m at your service.” I mime the tip of a top hat.
Who can last on Charlie Cobalt’s detail for more than two weeks? Almost no one. We had brand new hires quit after being paired with Charlie, and then finally, we found his perfect match. Oscar Oliveira is the only bodyguard able to keep up with him.
I catch comms chatter in my ear while we pay for the costumes. “Thatcher, Farrow—we’ve got a problem outside.” Temp guards are speaking. “Someone slashed the tires of the Beetle and Audi.”
Wtf
“I’d say not too critical,” Oscar says in my ear. “Charlie isn’t letting me in the apartment, but I heard broken glass and groaning. Just to be safe, a doctor should come here with Jane.”
Jane is antsy. Ready to go, and she asks Farrow, “Are you riding with us?” “No, I’m taking the other Range Rover.” He clasps Maximoff’s face in a loving hand. “Please wait here for Banks. Don’t go outside. Don’t do anything impatient as fuck.”
“See, this is why I try to stay out of Cobalt Empire drama,” Farrow says, leaning a shoulder casually on the wall and looking from Oscar to Donnelly. “It leads me to an empty hallway with you two motherfuckers.” Oscar grins,
“You’re just pissed because the Fiancé isn’t here.” Farrow tilts his head. Not denying. “Don’t be sad, Redford.” Oscar squeezes his shoulder. “I’m sure Maximoff will give you a pity blowjob later.” Farrow smiles. “You’ll have to explain to me what a pity blowjob is, Oliveira. Never had one before.” “Donnelly can explain it to you. It’s all he ever gets.”
I fix my gaze on the door across from us. “I’m not going to talk about my client and sex.” Farrow puts a piece of gum in his mouth. “I think you mean ‘fake’ sex.”
Oscar fixes pieces of his ruffled hair. “If Moretti really fucked his client, there’d be consequences.” My pulse solidifies like cement in my veins. I’m not looking at them. Farrow blows a bubble and pops it in his mouth. “Yeah, we’d have to get Donnelly to tattoo hypocrite on his ass.” If that’s what it took to make things right with him, I’d fucking do it.
Donnelly calls out to them through a mouthful of cereal, “Hey, wanna be my Valentine?” The brunette glares. “Go fuck yourself.” Farrow sucks in a breath. “You’re too late. He already did that last night.” Donnelly grins, then sticks his tongue out with half-chewed cereal to the women. They all cringe. “God, uh,” a blonde grimaces.
“Aren’t you two dating Maximoff Hale and Jane Cobalt?” Protocol: do not engage more than necessary. I’m about to brush them off, but Farrow does it first. He loosely crosses his arms. “Who’s Maximoff Hale?”
“You’re clearly Farrow Keene, and he’s Thatcher Moretti.” “Why are you coming in so hot, Barbra?” Donnelly asks the brunette. “Who the fuck is Barbra—and
Lmao
What I’ve heard: Beckett is asleep in Donnelly’s bedroom. He just got back from a ballet performance for Cinderella, and apparently Charlie told him not to enter their shared apartment yet. Their place must be a mess, and Beckett likes things in order. It boils down to Charlie protecting his twin brother, who has OCD.
Cobalt.” We need to shut this down. “We can’t talk,” I say, direct. “We’re working.” “He’s in his underwear.” She points to Donnelly’s boxer-briefs.
Jane slips out, eyes wide on the group of women, but she’s good at course correcting. She smiles in greeting. “Hello.” “Jane motherfucking Cobalt,” the brunette gapes. “We love your mom.” “She’s our idol,” the blonde says. “Mine too,” Jane smiles more,
I approach, my fingers brushing her hip, and she whispers rapidly in my ear, “Charlie doesn’t want Oscar to clean this mess. I convinced him to let you and Farrow in.” Copy that. I wrap my arm around her waist and then motion with a nod to Farrow to enter Charlie’s apartment.
Her eyes hit mine. “How do I look?” she asks. Beautiful. But I feel the hot gazes of Charlie and Farrow. They’re quiet, which means they’re listening. Fuck it. “Beautiful,” I tell her.
“Tom called you an honorary Cobalt this morning on the phone,”
I go to touch my mic, thinking I can radio to see her grandmother’s whereabouts, but my fingers brush the fabric of my collar. No wire. No mic. No comms. I’m off-duty. Here as Jane’s boyfriend only.
But I do wish I at least had my taser. Not that I’d tase her grandmother. I’d tase one of these pricks that keep leering at her from across the room.
Lmao tase grandma
The server bends down for her to take a glass. She doesn’t reach. “Can we get two beers?” He blinks. “This is Dom Pérignon.” “I’m aware,” she says. “But I’m more of a beer drinker. Two pints of Guinness perhaps?” The server nods and leaves quickly. Jane knows my favorite beer.
“Just a heads up—there are no cupcakes or donuts here,” Sulli says, but she carries a stack of pastries on a small plate. “Fucking waste of a good tea party.” She slumps down on the couch beside Jane. “Thank you for coming,” Jane says into a smile and squeezes her side. “Fuck yeah, had to check this place out.”
“Oh Sullivan, dear, did you not get the email about the dress code?” “Got it, but I asked my dad and he told me it was fucking optional.” Sulli smiles into her next bite of pastry. In reality, her dad told her to wear what she wanted and blame it on him. Her grandmother sighs. “Of course he did.”
Lmao love ryke
“You invited us to tea, ma’am,” I remind her grandmother. No straying. We’re in and out. She purses her lips. “It’s polite to chat first.” “Respectfully, ma’am, it’s also polite not to be fifteen minutes late,” I refute.
“Now,” I add. “She’s busy, ma’am.” “Very busy.” Jane smiles. “I have many more places to be.” That aren’t in a parlor with men three times her age staring at her like she’s fucking meat. Preferably where I also have a taser. And a gun. And my comms.
My first instinct is to look back at the first lounge. Where Sulli’s bodyguard sits. Akara and Banks are eagle-eyeing the fuck out of this guy.
Sulli holds out her other hand and Will takes out a pen. He scrawls on her wrist. Has to be his number. She keeps smiling, her face turning red, and her gaze sweeps his body in a slow once-over. I look to Akara. He is frozen. Marbleized. Banks is talking to him, almost rapidly, concern in my brother’s eyes.
Yikes
“You can’t fight them,” I say into a soft smile. His willingness to slay my enemies and any foe that has ever hurt me is so very attractive. “I can. Physically, I can.” His muscles are pulled into taut bands. I have no doubt, he could destroy most men.
“One of Beckett’s…hookups…took screenshots of their texts. They’re all on the internet.”
Fuck
Beckett has always been the most private of all my siblings. Of the seven of us, he’s the only one who doesn’t appear on We Are Calloway, and he refuses to do interviews unless the ballet company requires him.
“Tell my fake brother-in-law I said hi,” Eliot smiles like he’s both clever and wicked. God. Don’t look at Thatcher. “Jane, I don’t hear you,” Eliot says quickly, teasing me. “Why aren’t you relaying my message?” “Because he can hear you, Eliot,” I say. “He’s in the room.” Thatcher crosses his arms over his chest.
I focus on him. “Yes. Anything,” I repeat. He holds up his phone. “We’re all going on a Cobalt social media blackout,” he says. “In solidarity.” A social media blackout.
“Ensemble,” I tell him. Together. All four of my brothers repeat the word. And then Eliot grins, mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he says something I’ve heard him recite a thousand-and-one times. But tonight, it’s never felt truer. “‘Let me play the lion too…I will roar.’”
Im. Cryi gggggg
“Sorry,” I say to Jane and look back to her. We agreed that I’d stay on-duty, even if we’re officially on a date. She said she’d feel safer. Which is good. Because my first instinct is to protect her and to be vigilant. And being “off-duty” while out in public with Jane would probably drive me nuts. Me being on a date with a radio and a gun is fucking better for us both.
massive debate that ended with Alpha and Epsilon siding together and outvoting Omega. A frozen yogurt date. Jane and I wanted to go to a brewery, but here we are.
Out of my peripheral, I check the windows again but keep my eyes on Jane. “So Carpenter loves attention. Licorice hates it. Walrus is the rebel. Ophelia is the princess. Toodles is a sloth, and Lady Macbeth a wise, old owl. That about right?”
“Jane,” I say. Flush rises up her neck. “You know my cats very well,” she says, recovering. “It’s very attractive. But you already know that I’m attracted to you. So that’s redundant. But important. An important redundancy.” My eyes sweep her for a second. “I don’t think our attraction to each other has ever been a question, honey.”
“Gomesegiam’,” I say in Italian. “That means How do you say?” “Gomesegiam’,” She repeats. “I like that one, too.” She’s liked every word I’ve said in Italian. I’m beginning to realize it’s not just the language. She likes me.
“Highly rude!” Jane yells back. I squeeze her hip. She doesn’t need to defend me. Also, I don’t want her in a fucking fight. I will kill anyone who tries to lay a hand on her.
