Page 81 of Together We Burn
“Yes,” Jake replied. “I’m not leaving you to handle this alone. Anything to do with Will or Emilia, I’ll be there.”
I rolled my eyes and turned for the elevator doors, ignoring the urge to argue because there would be no point. I’d tell him no, that I was a big girl, and he’d say he knew that, but I was his… blah, blah, blah, and that would waste time. So, it was easier to concede—this time.
The three of us stepped into the elevator, Jake and Alex flanking me on either side. As the doors slid closed, I called out, “Call Alex if anything happens.”
The look on Will’s face as I walked in with my “bodyguards”, would be framed and take pride of place on the mantle if I owned a fireplace. If the vein that pulsed on the side of his temple when Jake’s hand touched the small of my back had popped, well, that would have been my birthday and Christmas rolled all into one in a nice blood-soaked package.
“I should have known you two would have ignored my recommendation that a sexual relationship would not bode well and was not to happen,” Will said, deceptively calm, but his dark eyes were furious.
I smiled. “It wasn’t a recommendation; it was a command. And you should know by now I don’t do well with being told what to do.”
Will’s nostrils flared as I dropped into the seat opposite his desk, with Jake to my left and Alex in his usual spot, lounging like a slob on the leather chesterfield.
Swallowing hard, he observed the way the three of us interacted, and by the glint in his dark eyes or the way his jaw ticked, it said he did not like what he saw. He was losing the loyalty of his soldiers over this clusterfuck of an assignment, and he knew it.
“I received this.” He slid an A5 cream-coloured card with gold embossed writing on the front across his desk. Picking it up, I read my mother’s invitation addressed to Will.
Mr. William Jones,
You are hereby cordially invited to attend the revealing of Matthews Enterprises, a new era in female entrepreneurship.
Emilia Matthews requests your attendance along with Stefany Matthews to help celebrate this monumental occasion on 31 October 2022 at the Newport Hotel at eight o’clock….
Newport Hotel. Where Jake and I first met.
Fucking bitch.
“She’s doing a themed party? Phantom of the fucking Opera?” I asked, finishing the invite and tossing it back on Will’s desk. “She wants us to go in black suits and black ball gowns?”
“It appears so,” Will drawled. “Next weekend, it seems.”
“And I take it you’re invited too?” I asked Jake. He nodded, and rage bubbled in my stomach. “Jesus, Jake. I thought there were no more secrets? When were you going to tell me?”
Will scoffed, and I glared at him.
“Baby…”
“Baby?” Will growled; this time, it was Jake’s turn to glare.
“Your sister and Nate’s safety was more important than a stupid invite to some party she’s throwing,” he said. I shoved my hands into my hair and tugged.
“Okay.” Admitting he was right was something I would never get used to. Looking at Will, I asked, “What do we do?”
“What else did Emilia tell you about the function?”
Jake leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees.
“She said it was time she showed you who you’re playing with.”
“I doubt she has any cards left to play now you’ve got Nate under your protection,” Will said thoughtfully. “Anything else?”
Jake glanced at me and winced. “I’m her date.”
“The fuck you are,” I said, jumping to my feet.
“As suspected,” Will stated, almost sounding bored, like he knew Emilia would have done something like this. Picking a non-existent piece of lint from his suit jacket, Will’s authoritative tone was maddening as he said, “She’s obviously under the impression that you are still on her side, Jacob. You will attend as her date, dance with her, flirt with her, do whatever you need to do to not draw suspicion to us foiling her plan to get her grandson.”
Us. There was no fucking us. He wasn’t part of “us.”
