Page 87 of Taint My Soul

“Who else? No one knows our family as he does. He’s been here since I turned eighteen.” I retort with a sigh.

“I have tried, brother. Maybe it’s time you came down here and see if he’ll talk to you.”

“I’ll be there this evening,” I murmur and hang up, tossing my phone onto the desk. I slide the contract into my drawer and leave my office for my eerily quiet apartment.

I still remember Cross’s words. Basically, he’d told me to go after what I feel and who I feel it for. But I haven’t exactly been taking that advice.

By the time the sun sets, I leave my apartment in my car alone without my valet, driving to the house out of state. I’ve moved a lot of things around after the investigation that could have destroyed everything we have worked for. You never know who might be watching.

As I pull into the old stone house in the middle of the forest, my eyes narrow at the entrance. Virgil stands there, smoking a cigar. Smoke puffs out of his mouth, curling around him. I haven’t seen him smoke in a long time unless he’s frustrated.

The engine dies, and I hop out of the car, slamming the door to get Virgil’s attention. He sees me and drops the unfinished cigar, stomping it under his shoe. “In here.” He waves at me.

He leads me through the entrance down to the basement. Bernard’s tied to a metal chair by chains, partly hidden by the shadows in the basement. His head hangs low. His breath comes out shallow and broken. Virgil has tortured him to the point where he’s barely alive. Dry blood clings to the side of his head, all over his chest, and his shoulder.

Hearing footsteps, he lifts his head, bruised eyes on me. “You’re here.” He mutters. “I promise, I would never betray this family. I’ve been loyal for the past twenty years.” His words stutter out of me, so weakly he’s barely audible. My eyes track over his limp, broken body.

“Tell me the truth, Bernard. Prince told me you returned to the house on Thursday morning.”

“Of course, I did,” he responds. “To check if there was anything I could find. Any evidence we could have used to rescue you? Yes, I looked around the entire house, the office, and nothing else.”

“And did you find something?”

“Your phones, but it really wasn’t any good. Cyrus smashed them both.” He mutters. I squint and look at his barely open eyes. He looks back at me with an intensity that bores into my fucking soul.

“He’s telling the truth. Get him to the hospital.” I remark without looking up at Virgil as I turn to the stairs.

“Is that it?” Virgil demands, hands apart.

“What do you want from me, Virgil?” I stop at the foot of the staircase and regard him with a deplorable look.

“We don’t have any answers, and you’re just going to fucking walk away.”

“I have this handled. There’ll be answers soon.”

“The answers are literally right in front of you.” He seethes, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re so fucking blind to see it.”

“Is this about Mason?” I take a step towards him. “He doesn’t have any motive to hand over information to whoever alerted law enforcement. He’s my personal assistant.”

“You’ll regret defending him, Saint.” The words wrench out of him. I don’t respond to that. I turn around and leave. I need to get my head into something else. And driving home isn’t the better option. I drive to the Sovereign to have a sit-down with my cousin, Syn, but his workers informed me that he left for the Red Horn Club.

When I arrive at the club, months of memories hit me like a ferocious storm. Taking what I want. Having what I want when I want it. But I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want a contract.

I want Mason Cole. Even though wanting him is dangerous.

Maybe I should go after what I want, or heed Virgil’s words. Either way, none of this makes sense anymore, and I’ll damn near lose my mind because I can’t seem to choose what I want.

I head into the building, taking the elevator to the strip club. The door opens into the controlled chaos. The thumping of music and the flash of intense purple lights. I snake through the overflowing crowd when I see my cousin eagerly sitting in the VIP booth. I move to the staircase, and the security man moves aside. My hand wraps around the banister as I climb the stairs until I appear at the end. When Syn sees me, his lips curl into a smile, and he waves me over. I shrug off my jacket as I sprawl down beside him. “I was looking for you.”

“I’m here. For my husband-to-be.” He looks at me.

“Oh, yes, I totally forgot you were getting married.” I chuckle just as a woman in a lace bodysuit appears from the stairs, setting down a bottle of scotch and an empty glass.

“That will be all.” I tell her before she can open the bottle. She gives a brief smile and turns around, sashaying down the stairs.

Over the next two hours, Syn focuses on the dancers on the stage while I down glass after glass of scotch. I could easily drown myself in all of it. But none of it makes sense. Everything stopped making sense the moment I saw him for the first time. And I don’t believe in love at first sight. I never have. But here I am, thoughts deep into the beautiful brown eyes that remind me of the setting sun. That makes my heart race and sends heat spiraling through my entire body.

And I wonder how I can navigate this. As much as I want him, what will I do when I have him? How will I love him? How will I take care of him? All my life, I have done things logically. Everything, including sex. So how can I give him something when I have never seen myself as meaningful my entire life.