Page 82 of Submission

As if anything would happen between those two.

“Christian is cute,” Lena agrees.

“Stop looking at my grown-ass friends," I growl at her. "You’re too young to be dating!"

Lena just rolls her eyes at me. “No, I’m not.”

“Let’s go, Hunter.” Megan pulls at my arm, and I frown.

“We need to talk about this,” I counter.

“Not tonight.”

“I’m not messing up my Netflix algorithm for any man,” Naomi complains. “I have a whole movie night planned, and I’m not even wearing makeup! If they come by, I’m not answering the door.”

Good, at least Naomi and I are on the same page for once.

When we arrive at the gallery, it’s apparent that the event planners have really rolled out the red carpet for the exhibition, making sure the students selected from every university art program in the city feel special. There are photographers waiting by the door, taking shots of all the guests arriving in their semi-formal attire.

As a patron of the arts in Los Angeles, I recognize quite a few faces as we go inside. Many of the art pieces on display are beautiful, but I’m drawn to the corner dedicated to Megan. Her work is a bit more simplistic than some of the other paintings but I feel a hint of pride at how thought-provoking her work is. Each piece is different and has a deep meaning.

I watch from a distance as Lena takes a lap around the gallery, looking at all the various displays, and as Megan talks to an older woman who is admiring her work and asking questions.

“So, that’s your girlfriend,” comes a voice from behind me, and my expression grows stiff.

“DiAngelo.”

Dante DiAngelo is a popular philanthropist. He’s also the head of the DiAngelo family. At the age of thirty-two, he seized the position from his brother. Nicknamed ‘The Hellfire’ in underground circles, he’s got a reputation for being both power-hungry and having a taste for blood.

The fact that we’re allies is beneficial for the two of us, but there’s something about him seeing me around Megan that makes me feel uneasy. I can’t let him see that, though.

“How did you enjoy my gift?” I murmur, sipping the champagne and watching him closely.

He smiles at me, the cruelty in his eyes shining through. “I always enjoy gifts from you, Middleton. However, you must’ve really been upset with them if sending them to me was your choice of punishment.”

“Well, I do keep you in my thoughts every now and then.” I shrug.

“Who are they?” he asks with an unsettling curiosity.

“They’re nobody,” I tell him.

A woman silently presents a tray of hors d'oeuvres in front of us. I pass but Dante takes some sort of lobster quiche puff and pops it in his mouth.

“They arranged all this in my honor,” he explains vainly. “It would be rude not to try everything there is to offer.” He admires the painting in front of us as he chews. “I heard you got stood up by two of our friends. It’s a pity.”

I don’t miss the warning in his words. The fact that the two gang leaders whom I summoned refused to show up iscirculating in the underground world quite rapidly. A refusal is not good for my reputation. It shows weakness.

“Well, you can’t train every old dog new tricks.” I smile lazily. “Sometimes you just have to get a new one.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’m hearing rumors about somebody trying to usurp you. Trouble at the Blue Whiskey. Trouble at your home. It’s an entertaining thought that someone’s trying this hard.”

He glances at me, a smile on his lips. “I can’t wait to see how you deal with this.”

“Many have tried.” I swirl the golden liquid in my stemmed glass. “If I remember correctly, your brother had a similar idea.”

“Good thing he did.” Dante grins. “Or I wouldn’t be standing here as the head of the family.”

I nod in agreement.

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