Page 53 of Fear the Reapers
“Behave like the good little angel you are,” Ezra asserted, flashing me a sinister grin. “and we’ll give you your house privileges back.”
“No deal.” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “For whatever reason, the four of you want me around. Which means I’m the one with the bargaining power. If I’m going to stay here and I mean really stay and do this, there needs to be some changes. I need to come and go as I please and I want my old job back.”
“No.” Tristan said, shaking his head. “We’ve already told you, you’re not s… safe out there alone.”
“Then I’ll work at Hell’s Tavern.” I offered, grasping at straws as I sat up in my seat. “I’ll only work when you guys are there and you can keep an eye on me the entire time.”
“Clever girl.” Ezra cooed, patting me on the head.
“She has a point.” Cyrus chimed in, reluctantly. “Besides, we already know she’ll just try to run again if we keep her locked up. ”
“Fine.” Atlas groaned with flared nostrils. “You start next week.”
Chapter 32
Atlas
“Fuck!” I cursed as the scorching liquid spilled onto my skin. I shook my hand, trying to shake away the sting, but the bright red welts formed, anyway. Everything that could go wrong had been going wrong lately, spilling my fresh cup of coffee was merely the icing on the cake.
For the past couple of nights I’ve been out, trying to smooth things over with Melanie to no avail. It had been a couple of weeks since Stevie and Mel’s fight, and I wanted to assure myself that all loose ends had been thoroughly tied. I needed to be sure the fight had blown over before we gave Stevie the freedoms we agreed to.
When I arrived at Melanie’s penthouse, the polite conversation over dinner quickly turned into a drawn out interaction that lasted several days. Everything was political in our world and when Melanie insisted I stay in the guestroom her staff had prepared, I knew if I refused, she and her family would take it as a personal dig. I didn’t give a fuck about the ramifications for myself, but my goal was to keep Stevie safe, which meant that I needed to play nice with Mel, so I kept her company and bided my time.
During the day, I’d accompany her to mind-numbing social events. Listening to her drone on and on about the latest gossip with some of the most pivotal figures in Caspian Hills. I never cared to rub elbows with the societal snobs of our city. But after spending so much of her life trying to prove herself to these people, kissing ass was her full-time job.
Melanie assumed that showing up with me on her arm would give her the respect she craved, but nothing would change the way people viewed her family. Sure, The Diaz Cartel had money and power, but no amount of wealth could make people forget that a good chunk of their profits came from human trafficking. The Reapers weren’t saints by any means, but the one thing we never dabbled in was flesh.
The days with Melanie were painless compared to the nights. Each night, I’d sling back shot after shot of Jack Daniels while she got more and more bold with her advancements. I wasn’t normally much of a drinker, but I needed a buffer to stop myself from wanting to strangle her. Besides, I knew I could chalk up my perpetual softness around her to whiskey dick and avoid the fury that would come whenever I refused to fuck her. It was a pain in the ass, but I did it all hoping to make nice with the woman that was out for Stevie’s blood.
Stevie was reckless and impulsive, but she didn’t deserve to have to deal with Melanie’s wrath. Mel had only fucked with her because of her ties with me, and she wouldn’t even be in this mess at all if it wasn't for the stupid decisions I made.
During our last dinner together, I finally brought up the real reason for my visit.
“Thank you again for being so hospitable, Mel.” I said, looking up at her from across the ostentatious dining room table.
“Of course, darling.” She crooned, tapping her napkin against her wine-stained lips. “You know I’m always happy to take care of my fiance.”
I gave her a smile I didn’t feel and continued.
“There is one other thing I wanted to run by you.” I paused, circling the whisky in my glass. “I’m hoping that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive my guest for being so disrespectful. Rest assured, my brothers and I have already put her in her place. She should have never laid a finger on you. I don’t think this needs to escalate any further. Don’t you agree?”
“No.” She hissed, tossing her napkin to the floor. “I do not agree. You must think I’m some kind of idiot. You haven't given me the time of day in the five years we’ve known each other. You didn’t think it would strike me as odd that you were suddenly so willing to stick around? I figured you had an ulterior motive for coming here, and I should’ve fucking known it was her.”
“Melanie,” I scolded through gritted teeth, “be rational. She didn’t know how important you were to us. She does now.”
“You aren’t fooling anyone, Atlas.” She hissed, sipping her red wine. “She’s a complication that needs to be eliminated. When I get my hands on her, and I will fucking get my hands on her, you and your men won’t do anything to stop me. Not unless you want to start an all-out war.”
“Thanks again for the hospitality.” I spat, rising from my chair. “Sorry I can’t stay for dinner, I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”
Shoving the chair out of my way, I grabbed my coat and left the room. This entire visit was a complete waste of fucking time. Melanie’s resentment hadn’t faded since their fight. It had only festered. She wasn’t over what happened and she wouldn’t be until she got her revenge.
“You can’t keep her hidden forever, Atlas!” She yelled, watching me as I reached for the handle of the front door. “She’s going to get what's coming to her one way or another.”
Melanie was a crazy bitch, but she was right. We couldn’t keep Stevie hidden forever, and the longer she stayed in our world, the more in danger she’d be.
I stared at spilled coffee and let out a deep sigh. Fuck it. The coffee was supposed to help me clear my head, but liquor was a much better remedy for the shit I had going on. I opened our liquor cabinet, reached for the bottle of Macallan scotch and took a swig, relishing in its familiar burn.
Cyrus padded into the kitchen, stopping by the fridge to pull a water bottle out. He cocked a brow when he noticed the bottle of scotch in my hand. But said nothing as he took a seat on a barstool and pulled out his phone.
