Page 44 of Save Me
Once Aaron and the Duke leave, a heavy silence falls over the room.
“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his hair. “That wasn’t entirely unexpected, but he is not happy with us.”
Thayer stands up abruptly. “We better figure out how we’re going to handle this.” His voice is cool and collected, but there’s an underlying tension that suggests he’s just as pissed off as the rest of us.
Callum nods, standing up to face us squarely. “Tonight, we strategize. We’ll find a way to work around Aaron’s demands without fucking up our own lives.”
I nod along with the others. It’s clear as day that none of us wants to play Aaron’s game, but we don’t have much choice in the matter—not if we want to keep Vogue safe and maintain whatever semblance of control we have over our own lives.
A phone buzzing cuts through the silence.
Harry pulls it out and glares at it. “Gotta go. Family business.”
“Well, Aaron can’t argue with that,” I mutter. “Go. We’ve got this.”
He nods and pockets his phone, heading for the door as the three of us slump down and try to come up with a plan to get our shit in a heap after it’s been splattered all over.
16
HARRISON
I head out the door,my mind racing faster than my feet can keep up. ‘Family business’ is always the convenient excuse that no one dares question, but in this case, it’s a grim reality I can’t escape.
I’m not even out of earshot before I start hearing their hushed tones, plotting and scheming behind me—typical. Callum’s got that fire in his belly; he’ll burn this whole fucking place down before letting anyone dictate his life.
I pull out the buzzing annoyance from my pocket again—another message, this time from a contact at one of our hotels. Shit’s going down there, something about a planned raid—it’s enough to pull me away from the current clusterfuck.
My family business, a chain of luxury hotels, has been a cover for the mafia’s money laundering for decades. I grew up within this reality and have embraced the role thrust upon me to further the organisation’s interests.
Crestmont offers a legitimate front for illicit dealings, and my involvement ensures that the mafia’s financial operations run smoothly. My connections help maintain the illusion of normalcy while facilitating the mafia’s covert activities. Thecasino night was all about funding and laundering. It was a huge coup for the Syndicate and tied many of the players to us through bribery and corruption. We need another event like that, similar but different to gather as many of the students under one roof as possible to pretty much seduce them into swinging their bridges towards us.
I shoot off a quick message to Cal, so I don’t forget and also so they can start planning. Whatever shitshow is waiting for me on the other side of the city is probably going to take all day.
The cool autumn air does nothing to temper my frustration. We need to protect our corners, keep up appearances, play the parts we’ve been rehearsing since birth.
“Fuck!” I spit out when I realise I have no car here. We all piled into Thayer’s to make the short journey.
“Problem?” Aaron asks, appearing behind me like a fucking ghost.
“Family business. No car.” I keep it short and to the point. He doesn’t need to hear me rambling on like an idiot.
He stares at me with eyes just like Vogue’s, and it unnerves me for a second. “Take mine,” he says and hands me a set of keys from the side table near the door.
“Thanks,” I manage to grunt out. I’m not a fan of owing the guy anything, but I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. I grab the keys and head out into the brightening day.
The ride is smooth, the engine of Aaron’s midlife crises hyper car in the form of a Bugatti Chiron, which makes my eyes ache to think of the cost of this fucking machine, purring like a beast content with its last meal. But my mind’s too busy to enjoy it. The streets streak past in blurs as I plan my next moves – dealing with the hotel shitstorm, strategizing with Cal, Quen, and Thayer about Aaron’s mandate, and figuring out how to keep Vogue safe in all this mess. It’s a fucked-up juggling act, but I’m not dropping any balls on my watch.
Pulling up at the hotel, I slide into the role expected of me – Harrison Bennett, suave businessman with an edge that says, ‘don’t fuck with me.’ My phone buzzes again; another alert, another problem. That’s my life – one crisis after another, neatly wrapped in expensive suits and fake smiles.
Inside, I’m met with nervous glances and hushed whispers from the staff – they know when shit’s hit the fan. I put on my game face and throw myself into damage control mode as I meet my parents in the hotel Reception, their faces furious and worried at the same time.
“What is it?” I ask.
“The police have been sniffing around all morning,” my father hisses, a vein pulsing in his temple.
My gut clenches. This is bad, real bad. If they dig too deep, they’ll uncover the whole damn operation, and we’ll be fucked six ways to Sunday.
“So, what’s the plan?” I keep my voice even, despite the chaos brewing inside.
