Jaded, p.13
Jaded, page 13
I try to summon a sharp remark. The kind I’ve used for years to keep people at arm’s length, but the words won’t come. My shoulders loosen, and a terrifying warmth seeps through the cracks of my composure. He’s seen the calculated side of me. The girl who looked at him and saw a mark instead of a man. Yet he’s still here, offering me flowers instead of following through on his jail threat.
He hands me the bouquet and takes my free hand, leading me out of the piazza toward a blacked-out SUV parked nearby. “I have one last surprise that does actually require a vehicle.”
I don’t argue or ask questions. I just bury my face in the flowers, inhaling their sweetness as I follow him into the backseat. For the first time, we don’t even try to keep our distance. His arm settles around me, and I lean into his warmth as we ride through the streets of Verona.
The driver drops us off at the edge of an enormous lake. Its surface is a flawless mirror of turquoise. I’ve never seen a more breathtaking view. Locke takes my hand and leads me down a narrow path as the sun sinks lower in the sky.
We reach a small, secluded patch of grass where a giant white blanket is sprawled across the ground. String lights are wrapped around the trunk of a nearby tree, casting a soft golden glow over the meal spread before us. A charcuterie board overflowing with fruit, cheeses, and sliced meats. Several bottles of wine and two glasses sit nearby.
My throat goes dry. I want to tell Locke how beautiful this is, how utterly romantic and completely unexpected. I try, but nothing comes out.
Suddenly it all comes rushing back to me. All the birthdays that passed without even a card, the milestones without a moment of celebration, the countless times I ate alone, walked home in the dark, or realized that not one person in the room actually cared if I was there.
All I can do is stare at the scene in front of me, then back at him. Hot tears spill down my cheeks, despite my best effort to hold them back.
Locke’s brow furrows as his eyes dart between the picnic and me. “Is everything okay?”
“No one’s ever done anything like this for me. No one.” I let out a sigh, dabbing my eyes. “I’m not even sure I’ve ever been on a real date. But this… this isn’t just a date. It’s amazing.”
He looks genuinely shocked by that confession. Maybe I’ve said too much. But I don’t care. I want him to know how much this means to me.
Locke sits in an open space near the food, and I follow, settling beside him. He pours two glasses of wine as I pop a grape into my mouth, watching the sunset paint the water in gold and coral. It’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen, maybe even better than the desert sunsets back home. I’d always thought they were the most beautiful things in the world.
It takes me a few moments to realize that Locke is staring at me. I give him a sideways glance. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just enjoying the view.”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Okay, that was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He just smiles. “What can I say? You’ve brought out a side of me I haven’t seen in a long time. I’m leaning into it.”
“A long time,” I repeat softly, the words hanging between us. “What happened to him, Locke? The version of you that used to be like this?”
Locke hesitates, his gaze darting toward the horizon. “Oh, just my whole life, really.”
Despite the smile playing on my face, a wave of sadness washes over me. “Same.”
His eyes match my sadness now, too. “Yeah, growing up with a dad in the mob will do that to you. It’s not quite like the movies, but it isn’t normal, either.”
I blink, eyes wide. “The mob? I didn’t peg you as Italian.”
“I’m not. The Irish have a mob too, you know.”
“Ooh, an Irishman? Too bad you didn’t get the accent. That would be hot.”
Locke gives me a flat look. “As I was saying,” he exhales, “my dad was pretty high up. Our family was respected, wealthy, and protected. Being the oldest, he expected me to take over the family business. He started training me from the time I was sixteen. We ran nightclubs and private event venues — at least, that was the legal side. Luxury hospitality for high-end clients. But that all ended when the FBI finally caught up with him. They hit him with RICO charges. Money laundering, drug trafficking, conspiracy… all the greatest hits. They came for him in the middle of the night. Didn’t even bother knocking, just busted right through the door. I remember my mother offering coffee to all the agents while they tore the place apart.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “He’s been in federal prison ever since.”
I stay silent for a moment, letting the new information settle before asking, “So what happened? To the business, I mean.”
“I took over after he went away. A little sooner than expected, but I did my best. Back then, I just wanted to make him proud, but I was determined to make it fully legitimate. Didn’t want me or, worse, Nate ending up where he is. So, I stopped the laundering and the drugs and kept the entertainment for a while.”
“I have to say, the idea of you planning parties is hilarious. But how’d you go from that to PR?”
“Excuse me? I throw great parties,” he shoots back with a mock glare. “But I only managed events for a while. Mostly for celebrities and other high-end clients. Producers, politicians, the odd millionaire. It was fine until people like Luke started showing up. I thought walking away from the mob was enough, but I was wrong. The industry still attracts the same rot. People who actually make organized crime look tame. I couldn’t stomach being so close to it anymore, so I rebranded the business as Bishop Strategies. I swore I was going to actually help people.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Now I just help them cover up their lies.”
I swirl what’s left of the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the fading light. “You help them clean up their messes,” I murmur more to myself than him, “I usually just make them.”
Locke huffs out a quiet laugh, but his eyes stay on me. “You ever get tired of that?”
“Of what? Messes?”
“No. The running.”
I glance at him, then back at the water. “That depends on what or who is chasing me.”
That smirk is back on his face, and I can’t help but admire the way the setting sun frames it with golden rays. “So, what about you? Lexi? What’s the story there?”
I refill my glass and take a deep breath. “We’ve been best friends for… well, forever. She lived in the apartment next door. We’ve always been there for each other — ride or die. It was us against the world. So, when she needed help with Zoe, we moved in together.”
Locke studies me for a long moment. “Can you finally tell me what she does for a living, or is it still classified information?”
A giggle, an actual giggle, escapes me. I had completely forgotten about his questions when we met. “She’s a stripper. Exotic dancer. Whatever,” I say waving my hand at him. “We only keep it secret from Zoe. Also, before you jump to conclusions, she doesn’t work in some sleazy, run-down hole-in-the-wall. She performs at one of the best clubs in Vegas.”
He doesn’t say anything, just nods like he’s waiting for me to go on.
“The money is good, but I worry about her. She’s a hopeless romantic, but most men can’t handle being with someone in her line of work.”
Locke keeps nodding. Gazing thoughtfully down at his glass, “And you? Your family?”
That word makes my heart drop. “Just Lexi. My dad disappeared when I was twelve. He was mixed up with the wrong people… cartel business, I think. I never knew the details. After that, it was just my mom and me for a while. She was an addict my whole life, and it only got worse when he was gone. She overdosed a few months after I turned eighteen.”
Locke’s eyes shine in the golden light as mine rise to meet them again, gold flickering in the whiskey brown. It feels like he’s seeing straight through me.
I’m the first to break the gaze, reaching into the pocket of my jeans. When I pull my hand out, a gold chain with a tarnished cross dangles from it, the sunlight glinting off its edges. I hold it out to him as he raises his eyebrows, clearly surprised. “I think this belongs to you.”
Locke nods and takes the cross, running his thumb over it. “Didn’t think I’d see this again. It was my dad’s... and his dad’s before that. So, thank you.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t mean to take something sentimental. Not really my thing. Just wanted to make sure you got it back.”
Locke tucks the chain into his pocket, eyes lingering on mine.
For a long moment, neither of us speaks. The string lights hum softly above us, and the air smells like wine and salt and something almost sweet. He reaches out, brushing his thumb over my hand. “You could’ve kept it,” he whispers.
I swallow, feeling warmth spread through me. “Why would I do that? It’s special to you.”
He doesn’t respond right away, just leans back on his elbow, still looking at me like I’m part of the view. I look out at the view, too, as the last rays of sun dip below the horizon.
His voice is nearly a whisper a few moments later. “Have you thought about what I said yesterday?”
I nod. “I have.”
“And?” Locke sighs.
“This has been my identity throughout my entire adult life. I don’t think I’ll know what to do with myself.” I shift closer to him.
He studies me thoughtfully, considering his answer. “I don’t know, but whatever you want to do, you’ll have the ability to do it.”
He sips a fresh glass of wine. “Start a business, a charity, read books, travel the world. I truly don’t give a fuck. Just let me take care of you.”
“So, what, we’ll move in together? Or are you going to pay my rent too?” I challenge, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Whatever you want, Arden. I mean it. I will support any decision you make.”
I look away from him, back toward the lake. The word ‘support’ sounds like a foreign language. My life has been a series of carefully crafted walls. Keeping people out, keeping myself upright, making sure I never leaned too hard on anything that could give way. To let him do this isn’t just about the money or the freedom; it’s about handing over the heavy armor I’ve worn since I was a child. It’s terrifying. If I stop being the girl who survives, who am I?
But then I consider the weight of the last few years. The constant looking over my shoulder, the exhaustion of the hustle. I look at Locke, really look at him. He isn’t offering a golden cage; he’s offering a floor that won’t give out from under me. For the first time, I wonder what I could actually be if I weren’t always just trying to stay afloat.
I nod slowly, the tightness in my chest finally beginning to uncoil. “Okay,” I whisper, the word feeling heavier and more honest than anything I’ve ever said. “I guess I can live with that.”
And for the first time in a long time, I stop pretending I don’t want to be seen.
Chapter 28
LOCKE
The Vegas sun is brutal, not like the gold-drenched warmth of Verona. This kind of heat makes you feel like you’re walking into the depths of hell. I can see heatwaves radiating from the shimmering asphalt on the runway; it looks like it could melt beneath us.
I spent the entire flight replaying the conversation we had yesterday, dissecting every word until I was sure I hadn’t imagined it. She’s mine now. Not only has she agreed to the title, but she actually agreed to let me in. She agreed to let me provide, to let me be the one she leans on when the world is too loud. I stare out at the vast wasteland of heat and melting asphalt and feel a savage sort of satisfaction. The walls are finally down, and I’m never giving her a reason to build them back up.
Arden slides on her sunglasses, silent beside me as the plane door opens. No more cobblestones and wine; now it’s just the desert sun, neon lights, and the man we came here to find.
“You ready?” I ask, watching her stand and smooth her outfit. She doesn’t look back; her gaze is fixed on the view of the Vegas skyline outside the open door. “Always.”
On the flight, she made me promise that our first stop would be her condo. She can’t go another day without seeing Lexi and Zoe. I almost called her dramatic; it hasn’t been that long, but another part of me envies it. That kind of love leaves an ache when it’s gone, a feeling of being incomplete.
I’m not sure I’ve ever really understood that kind of longing. Even with Nate, our bond is just... there. It’s steady. I’ve never felt that frantic need to get back to someone just to feel whole again. It makes me wonder if I’ve been missing out, or if I’m just now realizing how much space one person can take up in your heart.
Lexi is a handful, but she’s exactly the kind of person Arden needs in her corner. Mostly, I’d do anything to see her face light up again. At the concert, she looked free. Like nothing had ever touched her. I know better but letting myself believe it for one second made me feel alive. I’d do anything to see her look like that again.
When we pull into her building’s parking garage, Arden doesn’t wait. She’s out of the car before I’ve even shifted into park. Her heels echo on the concrete as she bolts for the elevator. I stay behind for a minute longer, hands still gripping the wheel.
She didn’t invite me up… but she didn’t say I couldn’t follow, either. I’ve never been great at fitting into other people’s lives, especially when they’re as complex as hers. And now, back on her turf, I feel the familiar twinge of unease creeping up my spine.
By the time I reach the door, I hear muffled voices filtering through the walls. High-pitched female laughter accompanied by the unmistakable squealing of a child. It’s the sound of a home; a world I’m not entirely sure I belong in, but here I am anyway.
I reach for the handle, but a prickle of unease along the back of my neck stops me. I don’t turn around immediately; I stop to glance at the polished brass of the unit number next door, using it as a distorted mirror.
There at the far end of the hallway, leaning against the wall of the stairwell, I can make out the outline of a dark figure. It would be so easy to walk right past them, the black hoodie masking their shape in the shadows. I let my hand drop from the lever and slowly turn around.
His frame looks broad and imposing in the narrow space. But it’s the lower half of his face that I recognize. The dark gaiter pulled up over his mouth and nose, featuring the stark, white jaw of a printed skull. It’s a piece of gear I’ve seen him wear on his bike a thousand times, a macabre mask that makes him look less like a man and more like a reaper. Fitting for his current position.
Seb.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t wave. He just stands there, his gaze fixed on the door I’m about to enter. I told him to watch Lexi, but seeing him like this — a silent, masked sentinel haunting a residential hallway — reminds me that Seb doesn’t do anything halfway. He does excessive. Most of all, he does effective.
I take a breath, the warm memory of the flight cooling instantly. I want to go in and find that peace again, but Seb’s eyes are on me now.
He finally moves, a slow wave of two fingers from his temple. He pulls the skull gaiter down around his neck, revealing a smudge of a grin and a sharp glint in his eyes.
“Holy shit, bro,” I mutter, keeping my voice low enough that it won’t carry through Arden’s door. “I told you to watch over her, not stalk her like a literal psycho. You look like you’re waiting to harvest someone’s soul.”
Seb’s grin widens, sharp and unrepentant. “I’m just being thorough. You didn’t specify the distance.” Jerking his chin toward the door he adds, “The firecracker sisters are inside. They’re safe and they’re loud.”
I grin, shaking my head at him. “Go home, Seb. Get some sleep. Or at least take off the mask before a neighbor calls the cops.”
He just shrugs, pulling his hood down again, already receding back into the shadows of the stairwell without another word. He’s gone before I even turn around.
I push the door open, the sound of Zoe’s laughter and the scent of pancakes and coffee hitting me all at once.
“Locke, is that you?” Arden’s voice calls out, bright and expectant.
“It’s me,” I call back, locking the deadbolt. Wouldn’t want any psycho stalkers getting bold.
I stand there for a second, my back to the door, just breathing in the change of atmosphere. For the first time in weeks, the air feels different. The tension is gone, leaving room to breathe, and enjoy the company around me.
When I round the corner into the kitchen, the sight nearly breaks me. Arden is engulfed in a chaotic three-way hug with Lexi and Zoe, a tangle of limbs and laughter that looks so private I feel like an intruder.
Lexi catches my eye over Arden’s shoulder. She looks exactly like the firecracker I met before we left. Her bright orange hair is down around her shoulders today, but those eyes are still sharp and assessing even as she squeezes her friend. She gives me a look that says she’s thankful I brought Arden back, but she’ll still kill me if I breathe wrong.
Zoe breaks away first, her eyes wide as she looks at me like I’m some sort of giant who’s wandered into her playhouse. “Is he staying for breakfast?” she chirps. Before I can respond, she’s back to tugging on Arden’s hand, demanding to know if we brought back any “Italian treasures.”
Watching Arden pouring coffee, ruffling Zoe’s hair, falling into a rhythm with Lexi again, I realize this is the weight she agreed to let me carry. It’s not just her; it’s this entire, beautiful, messy life.
I find a seat at the island, feeling out of place in my tailored suit against the backdrop of half-eaten pancakes and a child’s chaos, but for the first time in my life, I don’t want to be anywhere else.
When breakfast is over and Zoe is off to school, the mood shifts again. The table that held pancakes and playful banter has now stiffened into something like a briefing station. I sit back as Arden lays it all out: the gala, the horror show of an after-party, everything Jaxon said, and why we’re back in Vegas even though our work is nowhere near done.
