Sutton
I've asked my dad so many times to tell me what the hell happened Saturday night, and he keeps telling me he doesn't know. I know he's lying; there is no way in hell he doesn't have any intel with all the connections he has in this town.
But once he's decided, he is an immovable object. The next logical person to ask is Jason, his second in command, who's been around most of my life.
Jason is normally easy to crack, seeing as he views me as a little sister, and I sort of have him wrapped around my little finger. But he's been out of the penthouse since Sunday, and I have no idea where he is.
Pulling out my phone, I send him a text, asking if we could talk when he gets back.
Jason: Sure, princess. I don't know what time it'll be though. Got a lot going on around the office as I'm sure you're aware.
Yeah, I'm aware.
Sutton: Yeah, I know, that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about.
Jason: I figured. I don't know much, but I will tell you what I can. Right now your dad is yelling for me so I gotta go. Okay?
Sutton: Okay. Talk later.
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I know I have work on the books I need to be doing for my dad, but all I can think about is the stranger on the motorcycle who protected me during the ambush.
I need to know if it was Nicolai. I can't just sit here and come up with these assumptions. I'll never let it go, and it will drive me mad.
I snatch my phone back off the bed and pull up my Notes app where I hastily stored the motorcycle's license plate number. HFD437. Hopping off my bed, I pull on a pair of leggings and an off the shoulder sweatshirt before going downstairs to my dad's office.
I know he has ways of tracking people down. I just have to find the right website.
He can never remember how to get to any websites on his own, so I know for a fact he'll have it bookmarked...as foolish as that seems. And since I'm a good little daughter for the Ring, I know all the passwords for his technology.
Sitting in front of his computer, I type in his password and am greeted immediately with his desktop. The background is a photo of him, me, and Jason at Christmas last year, and I can't help but smile a little at that.
Jason is my dad's best friend, and even though he's quite a bit younger than him, they're very close. I think he views Jason like the son he never had, which doesn't bother me at all. Honestly. It takes some of the pressure off me to constantly be everything my father expects me to be.
Having Jason around has certainly been an excellent buffer all these years. Jason and I are closer in age than he and my father, so Jason often agrees with me and is able to help talk my dad into some things.
I open the web browser and scroll through his hundreds of bookmarks until I find what I'm looking for. It takes me to a page that I'm pretty sure is on what Dominique calls "the dark web," and after a few minutes, I find the place to type in the license plate number.
Drumming my fingernails on the glass desktop, I wait for the page to load. Finally, it does, and there is a match.
My heart stutters in my chest and I lean forward to read the result.
There's an address. No name associated, but this is a start.
895 Garrison Ave, Bronx, NY 10474
Jesus...that's all the way across town. I'll never get there and back without someone figuring out I'm gone. Namely Dominique.
I mean, she is my best friend, but she still answers to my father at the end of the day. And that ambush the other night scared the shit out of her. She hardly let me out of her sight all weekend. There's no way in hell she'd take me out anywhere today, least of all to the Bronx, which is essentially enemy territory.
I'm not clueless. My father's role as Captain is clear. Continue making money for not only our family but the rest of the Ring so that our place in the hierarchy is secure. So we are always safe, surrounded by protection and money—two of the only things my father really cares about in this world.
The other is me, even though sometimes it really feels like he has his priorities a little fucked. Of course he loves me and wants me safe, but...There are times I'm not sure if he'd be more worried about my safety or the safety of his secrets.
I didn't choose this life. It's always been understood that I'll be a good little daughter, do the job Daddy assigns me to do, marry the man Daddy tells me to, pop out a kid or two, and let my future husband take over for my father when he's gone.
My father has me hooked into all of this. He knows that if I am a part of the shady shit that goes on, I can't snitch. And I know that too. There's nothing I can do about it.
But I'm getting closer to getting out. One step at a time.
I pad back upstairs to my room, reading the address over a few more times. It's still early, dad's preoccupied with meetings, and I have a few hours before Dom will come over to the penthouse to start her shift.
Security downstairs knows to watch who comes in the building extra carefully, but I should be able to sneak out the side door and get back in time. I hope. If not, it'll be worth pissing Dom off, because I need this—the truth.
I don't know why I care so much if it was Nicolai who saved me that night. It shouldn't matter. It doesn't matter.
But him leaving me with nothing more than a glance before he ducked out the door like a fucking coward is too much to let go of. It's been haunting me for three years. If I have any hope of truly being free, then I need to be able to let go of that too.
And to do that, I need to see him. Maybe it wasn't him at all. Maybe I'll have to just accept the fact that I'll never get to look him in the face and tell him how fucked up it was to abandon me that way.
But that tattoo...who else would have that tattoo?
With my mind made up, I curl my hair, do my makeup, and change into something presentable. I hate to admit it, but if it does end up being Nicolai, I want him to see how I've turned out.
That I'm not the same girl he left behind.
Grabbing my purse and phone from my desk, I head downstairs to make my escape. I'm almost at the front door when I collide with something solid.
"Oh, fuck!" I exclaim, looking up and meeting Jason's stare as he grips both of my biceps.
Goddamnit.
"Jason! What are you doing here?" His eyes trail disapprovingly over my body, no doubt wondering why I am so dressed up with so much makeup on at seven in the morning.
His blue eyes are stormy as they narrow in on my face. He doesn't answer my question, but instead asks one of his own. "Where are you going?"
I recoil, taking a step back out of his grasp. "Uh, nowhere. I was just—" I fumble for an excuse, but I have nothing. I didn't expect to see him, or anyone else for that matter.
No one else was supposed to be here. When I talked to him last, he was at the office with my father.
"Just what, Sutton?"
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. "Jason. Why are you...you told me you were too busy to even talk to me today."
He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. "You seemed like you really needed to talk. So I told Xavier I had something I needed to take care of, and I left."
My heart squeezes, and guilt spears straight through me. "Jason, I'm sorry. I did want to talk to you. I still do, but I need to go—"
He opens his mouth to interrupt and at the same time, my phone rings, startling us both.
"Shit," I mumble, looking at the caller ID.
My heart leaps into my throat when I realize who it is.
"Shit. Jason, one moment," I say, holding up a finger and taking the call. "Hello? Yes, this is Sutton Banks."
"Hi, Sutton, this is Yolanda Richardson, director of the orchestra for Moulin Rouge. Is it a good time to chat?"
My heart thuds in my chest, and I grab Jason's wrist, tugging him into the living room with me. He cocks his head to the side but follows, sinking down onto the couch with me.
"Of course! How are you?"
"I'm well. Very happy to be calling to let you know that we were so impressed with your talent, and your audition was as close to flawless as we've seen in many years." My heart dares to hope, and my face heats with pride. "We'd like to offer you the spot in the orchestra, playing first keyboard, if you're agreeable to that."
I jump off the couch and turn away from Jason, so he doesn't see the tears that spring to my eyes.
"Oh my God," I breathe. "Yes. Absolutely. I'd love it."
"Good," she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. "Rehearsals begin next week, and I'll send over all the details this evening. We'll need you to come in and sign a few things later this week. Will that work?"
A passing worry flits through my mind. Jason wouldn't even let me leave the house just now.
But Jason isn't my father. And my father is the one who allowed me to try out.
"Yes. I'll be there. Thank you, Ms. Richardson. You have no idea what this means to me."
"You earned it."
When I end the call, I turn to Jason and say, "I got the part."
"Oh my God," he exclaims, my earlier transgression momentarily forgotten as he gets to his feet and folds me into a bear hug. Laughing, I wrap my arms around his neck, and he spins me in a circle.
When he sets me back on my feet, I look up at him and he pushes a loose curl out of my face. "I'm so proud of you, princess. I knew when I told your dad to let you try out, I was doing the right thing."
What? Jason helped convince my father?
"You told Dad to let me audition?"
"Yeah, I—I could see how much you wanted to get out. And I wanted to help give you that. You deserve it," he says, shrugging his shoulders as if this isn't the biggest deal of my life.
"Jason, I don't know what to say besides thank you," I murmur, trying and failing to hold back tears.
When one slides down my cheek, he wipes it away and runs his thumb over my jawbone. "I'd do anything for you, Sutton. That's why I need you to stay safe, okay? So whatever you were going to do before I got here, please don't."
"I wasn't going to—"
"Don't lie to me," Jason says, and it comes out a little sharp. "After what happened on Saturday, you can't leave the house without telling me."
As much as I appreciate Jason in this moment, I know he's asking me to do something I can't guarantee. But I just nod and give him my word—a lie.
"Okay, I won't."
"Promise me, Sutton."
Guilt, for the second time today, washes over me. I crumple the piece of paper with the motorcyclist's address deeper into my pocket. "I promise."
"Good." He checks his watch and raises his eyebrow. "You want me to order some takeout for breakfast? We can binge watch something. Celebrate your victory until Dominique gets here."
"Sure," I say, my stomach grumbling in response. "But I thought you had to work."
He waves me off. "Xavier will get over it. I told him the thing I needed to take care of would take a while." He pulls his phone out and taps a few keys. "Waffles?"
I grin. "Yes. Please. Extra syrup."
"I know."
***
Half an hour later, I find myself tucked in my bedroom in comfier clothing, scrolling through the TV for something to watch. Perhaps it should be weird, spending time with my dad's best friend in my bedroom. But it's never felt like that with Jason.
The way he reacted to me getting the part is the most he's touched me in a long time.
"Why do you have so many pillows?"
I roll my eyes as I turn to face Jason and take my breakfast from him. "Because I like to feel like I'm in a pillow fort. Sue me."
We settle in and eat, and before I know it, we're done with breakfast and have watched three episodes of House Hunters International before I'm falling asleep, the exhaustion of the last few days finally hitting me.
What feels like a few minutes later, I wake up and the TV has shut off. I have no idea what time it is, but I'm wrapped in something warm. My blanket?
No. Jason's arms.
My cheek is resting against his chest, one leg draped over his, and both of his arms are wrapped around me.
His breathing is steady, and I know he's out. I don't remember how I got in this position; shit, I don't even remember falling asleep.
We've never slept in this position before, and you'd think it would feel natural. Good. Laying in one of your closest friend's arms shouldn't feel foreign.
But it does. It feels...weird. Like, if my dad were to walk in right now, he'd bust a gasket. I squirm against him, trying to wriggle free from his grasp, but he just tightens his hold on me, humming contentedly in his sleep.
I huff impatiently and prod his chest.
"Jason," I whisper. "Wake up."
He stirs and cracks one eye open.
"Oh, shit, Sutton," he says, loosening his grip on me, immediately moving away and sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "Did we fall asleep?"
I force a laugh and mirror his position, straightening my tank top and making sure there were no nip slips underway. "Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry I went into koala mode for a while there."
He smiles and sits up, brushing the wrinkles out of his button down and slacks.
"It's fine. Clearly, I had a hold on you myself," he says, clearing his throat and standing.
I look up at him, hair tousled and lips pressed in a firm line, all the lightness from earlier vanished. There's something in his gaze I can't place, and I'm sure my expression reads equally muddled.
"I'd better get back to Xavier."
I try for a smile, but it comes out half-baked. "Always on the job, huh?"
He doesn't smile back. "Remember what I said about not leaving the house."
I swallow and nod, even though I know it's not a promise I'll keep.
Jason slips out the door without saying anything else, and I fall back onto the bed, one thousand percent more confused than I was earlier. Not just about my mystery savior and whatever's going on in The Ring that Jason and my father aren't telling me about.
About everything.