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Chapter 65: The Price of Power.
Last Updated:
2025-02-01 21:26:30
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Carter swallowed hard, nodding.I released his hand. "The next Confraternity meeting is soon. I could get you in." My gaze locked onto his. "Impress me by then, or you're out—no second chances. That document has everything—the Circle, the top dogs, their history. Read it. Fast."“Yes, Don,” Carter answered, swallowing hard.I leaned in, towering over him despite the table between us. “Andrew ran a background check on you. Says you’ve been here longer than you claim.” Carter stiffened. "Carter stiffened. 'Yeah, back then, I wasn’t in business. Just vacations, fun. But when I saw what this city offered—money, power, respect—I stayed."I chuckled, unimpressed. “I don’t care what you did before. What matters now is everything the Graves do—every deal, every mistake—gets reported to me. Every detail.”I laid it out. “60% of whatever they make goes to their upkeep, weapons, hideouts, and others. The rest is yours." I meant what I said—I don’t need your money. What I need is for the Circle
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‘Is he with you? Because if he is, I won’t open that door.’I texted Andrew, ignoring his constant knocking. The staff had pleaded all day for me to forgive and stay, but I refused. Even as I moved my things away, they begged me to stop. But I couldn't, not after what Dontrell did.I wiped a tear from my cheek, my chest heaving with the remnants of my breakdown. My head pounded, my sinuses clogged, and my breath came in uneven sniffs—those after-crying gasps that burned the throat.My gaze flicked around the room. Smaller than the one I shared with Dontrell, but still luxurious—cream-colored walls, a grand bed, and a massive wardrobe. Comfortable, but not the same.My phone vibrated, and Andrew’s text glowed on the screen.‘Yes, he isn’t. And I don’t think he’s coming back anytime soon.’My fingers tightened around my phone before I dropped it on the bed.I stood, walked to the door, and yanked it open.Before Andrew could react, I yanked him inside by his shirt. I slammed the door an
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I glanced at my phone, my fingers tightening around it. I had only managed to go through part of the information Andrew sent me last night. There were still hours of recordings to listen to and countless PDF files left unopened. Every single thing he sent kept me up until dawn, my mind racing with revelations I never saw coming.I knew Mr. Blade was the Godfather, but I had no idea he was planning for Dontrell to take over. That’s why he’d been obsessed with me giving him an heir.My stomach churned, and a cold shiver ran down my spine as I remembered the file Andrew sent—the one that confirmed someone was out there, watching, planning my death.I swallowed hard and refocused, but the three women standing in the room made it impossible to concentrate.They stood rigid, eyes locked on me, showing no sign of hiding their impatience. I’d begged them three times to let me check my phone—and each time, they’d agreed. But now, I could feel their patience slipping.I exhaled sharply, droppin
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“Tickles, tickles," Dontrell murmured, his voice dripping with mischief as he hovered over me, his weight pressing me into the bed."Stop!" I gasped between laughter, twisting beneath him as his fingers teased my waist and ears.“Want me to stop?” he asked, slowing to a torturous pace.“No,” I gasped between giggles. “But I have a dress fitting in forty minutes and need to get up from under you.” I exhaled, staring into his dark, unreadable eyes. “But it’s so hard to leave when you look this good.” My voice trailed off as I ran my fingers through his hair.His dark eyes held mine, amusement dancing in them. "You can go whenever you want. No one's going to charge you a late fee when the fashion house belongs to your husband."I laughed. “That’s true. And to think I spent all my time in college obsessing over every new collection from Trelluxe High Fashion, buying everything—clothes, accessories, bags—like my father owned the business. Never once did I think to check who owned it.” I sh
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The atelier was a temple of luxury, a world of exclusivity draped in soft golden light and perfumed with the scent of the finest fabrics. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm glow over mannequins adorned in breathtaking gowns—each an unapologetic display of opulence. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected the essence of high fashion, while polished marble floors whispered beneath the weight of designer heels. The air hummed with the quiet rustle of silk and hushed conversations between tailors and their elite clientele.As I stepped further into the private showcasing room, Lena, one of the senior attendants, approached with a practiced elegance, a glass of red wine in her delicate fingers. She handed it to me with a reverent nod.“Here, Mrs. Blade. To keep you refreshed while we fit you into the gown,” she said smoothly.I took the glass, swirling the liquid idly, watching how the deep crimson coated the glass. "Thank you," I murmured, my eyes already scanning
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I ran into the small storage room, my heart racing in my chest, and Andrew followed close behind. His eyes darted across the quiet hallway before he shut the door behind us quietly, then he locked it. The only sound was our breathing and the pulse of my own panic as I paced in the small, cramped room, shelves stacked high with boxes."Andrew... hell has broken loose; we’ve been caught." I wept, voice shaking. My fingers twitched nervously against the fabric of my dress. My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything to focus on, but all that was in sight was fabrics, machines, and boxes. I wasn’t sure if it was the fear, guilt, or the danger looming over us now that was making me shiver, but my knees felt weak, and my head was as heavy as lead.He grabbed my shoulders gently, forcing me to face him. "Calm down. Let me see the text again," he said, his voice low but steady. Andrew wasn’t panicking like I was, and for someone whose life was on the line, his calmness triggered me
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I stood across from Andrew in the cold, dimly lit storage room. The air was thick with the weight of my breath, the silence pressing in on me as I watched him type furiously on his phone. His forehead had sweat all over it, and his eyes darkened with fury. The message he sent was short, clipped, and dangerously precise.“I have a job for you. I need eyes on someone right now.”I swallowed the lump in my throat, my tears still fresh from the fear gnawing at my insides. "Who was that, Andrew?" I whispered, panic bubbling inside me. "We have to be careful. We can’t let anyone else find out about us."Andrew didn't look up, his fingers moving relentlessly across the screen. He glanced at me with a cold, controlled stare, his lips thinning.“You don’t need to worry, Allison. I know how to handle this. I’m not panicking, and you shouldn’t either. I’ve been in worse situations, and each time I’ve escaped them. This blackmailer is in it for money, not revenge. He wouldn’t play this game if he
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He didn’t say a word. His eyes locked onto me, cutting through the air with cold intensity. My stomach churned, but I fought to mask the panic clawing at me.His lips curled into a smile, sharp and calculating. His hand shot out to me, his jaw tightening as he spoke. "You tell me, Allison," he said, his voice low, measured, yet with a dangerous bite beneath it. "Why I can’t stop staring at you when you make my chest burn, raise my temperature, and you look so damn good, even after spending thirty minutes in the toilet, dumping a mess yet walking out like a goddess?"I laughed, but it came out tight. "Don't say that here," I muttered, moving toward him, grabbing his hand.He smirked. “Say what? That my wife could walk out of the bathroom—the least favorite room of anyone—and still look good?” His words were playful, but there was something deep in his eyes.I smiled, glancing around at the reception. Everyone—ushers and staff—was looking at us. Eyes wide, taking in the scene. Before I
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Dontrell’s steady tone sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to find him striding toward us, his lips twitching in amusement.He stopped in front of me, gaze dropping to my lips. "My sexy wife." The words were smooth, teasing. He kissed me, hard and possessed, and when I reached up to wipe my lipstick off his mouth, he smirked. "Leave it."Clayton exhaled sharply, then turned to me with a smooth but sharp remark before stepping away. “I have something to discuss with my men. Catch you both later.”He left, and it was just Dontrell and me.He leaned in, voice teasing. “Did you miss me, Dove?”I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”His chuckle was low, rough. “I always get what I wish.”Ignoring him, I faced the stage. “Celine. I’ve seen her before.”His amusement vanished. “Where?”“At your workplace.” I exhaled. “Andrew told me she was nobody.”Dontrell’s grip tightened around his glass. “Andrew talks too much.”I narrowed my eyes. “So you do know her.”He drained the rest of his whisky and se
