𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

17 | His Distraction

I have been limited in my interactions with Thomas' business, but now I've been thrown into the belly of the beast.

I grip Thomas' hands with white knuckles as we descend down the staircase and into the bar. Dozens of eyes turn to us—each one of them workers for Thomas—although I know they ignore him and look straight at me. Many of them probably saw glimpses of me last night when Thomas whisked me up the stairs, but I look nothing like the glamourous heiress I pretended to be.

Now, I redress in simple clothes, my clothes—delivered by Larona and Rina.

Do they see me as a fraud? Or just the girl who has been sleeping with their boss? Do they know?

When I don't move from the final step of the staircase, Thomas tugs me along, his hand squeezing mine to reassure me that it's alright.

Thomas approaches a table. Levi sits on one side next to another man, one with a shaven head and tattoos climbing up his neck and skull. His menacing look sets me off, but when I scan the room, many of the others take on similar appearances.

Both men hover over the screen of a laptop.

"This better be good," Thomas grumbles.

"Thought you'd be happy this morning," Levi teases with a wink in my direction. My cheeks heat up at the thought of the whole building listening to Thomas and I. Were we that loud?

"Show me," Thomas demands.

"Have some fucking patience," Levi mutters and gestures to the empty seats. "Sit down, then. No use making the princess stand on her two feet. She already deals with enough shit having to be with you all the time."

We take a seat. Thomas drapes his arm around my chair, his fingertips drawing designs into the back of my neck. Not once does Thomas give anyone the satisfaction of a smile, nothing like the Thomas I met. There's no goofy teases or playful banter—it's like he's made of stone, but all I want is for him to combust.

It's clear he won't do that in front of his colleagues.

Levi gestures at me, "Dane, this is Maureen, Thomas' lady friend. Maureen, Dane."

Dane reaches over to shake my hand, but Thomas swats it away before I can reciprocate the kind gesture. Thomas' fingertip continues to draw swirls on the skin of my neck, light distracting caresses. It's now I see that it's almost possessive, like it's meant to send a message to ward off any threats.

In the past few weeks of working alongside Thomas, I haven't been introduced to his team. I know Vince runs the bar; and I know it actually is a bar, not some sham or cover-up. Except nearly all Vince's customers work for Thomas, and Vince rents from Thomas.

I know who Levi is, but I haven't seen him since the day he told Thomas about the old hotel the Patton's plan on demolishing.

And I guess there's Dane as well, this stranger that sits two feet away from me.

Levi spins the laptop around so the screen faces Thomas and I before smugly crossing his arms, leaning back and tipping his chair a little. "Feast your eyes on this motherfucker."

Thomas leans in, his blue eyes narrowing in on the image in front of him. It's a diagram, and I can tell by the handwriting that it comes from Cato himself.

Cato has always been more of an academic, but even I knew drawing scientific diagrams was never his strong suit. His lack of artistic skills certainly shows from what I can see.

But despite his wobbly lines and scribblish details, even I cannot comprehend the wild mess that Cato documented.

"The Occisor?" Thomas mutters under his breath. "What the fuck is this?"