"Your carriage awaits, madame," Gage holds the car door open for me as Elijah and I approach. Said carriage is a black Rolls Royce parked right out of the front door.

"If you leave as much as a scratch on it, I'll break your skull," Elijah tells his brother as he climbs in after me.

"Like this wasn't pocket change for you," Gage shuts the door.

Elijah rolls his eyes but doesn't argue when his brother gets in and puts the thing in drive. Gage dressed for his part well; he even put the hat and gloves on and everything. The silent chauffeur look suits him well. Then again, what doesn't?

I turn to Elijah. He shifts closer to me and brings his hand to my exposed thigh, gently rubbing the inside, sending sparks in his wake.

"I want a ride in your Bugatti," I tell him as I watch his hand.

He cocks his head to the side. "You've been in my garage?"

"Nope."

"Then how did you know I had one?"

"I didn't," I smirk. "But now I do."

He chuckles, showing me that dimple that makes me weak.

"I'd be honoured," he says.

Smiling, I look at the bowtie on his neck. The butterflies in my stomach turn to sharp little knives as I think of our plan, of where we are going, and of who we're going to meet.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"I..." Sighing, I look up at him. "I'm just dreading it, I guess. We step out there, and there's no turning back. People on the fence will have to choose between me and my father, and he wouldn't like it. And... well, I've always been his plus one to those things. Who knows who he'll invite this time."

"Don't think about him," Elijah says.

"It's not that easy."

"It could be. Think of something else," he shifts closer to me, his hand climbing higher on my thigh, and puts his mouth to my ear. "Like how I'm barely holding myself back from tearing this fucking dress off of you."

Goosebumps rush from my ear, down my neck, all the way to my thigh where his hand is. My breath hitches as I feel heat and moisture gather between my legs, hoping not to stain this beautiful silk I'm sitting on.

"Or how I'm so close to you," his hand moves ever higher on my inner thigh, climbing to where it meets my pelvis. "I can feel your heat without even having to touch you. And I know you're soaked for me."

My heart pounds relentlessly in my rib cage. I can't tear my eyes away from what he's doing. He's right, I'm fucking drenched. This isn't a good idea, but my body wants him so badly I can't make myself stop him. The tips of his fingers touch one of my lips, and a shudder rattles me to my very core.

"Or," he whispers, and I hear the smirk in his voice, "how my brother keeps looking at you in the rearview. How he can't get enough of you like this. Just like I can't."

My eyes fly to Gage. Elijah's right. We stopped at a red light and he's looking right at me with hunger in his eyes that makes all my blood rush to that spot between my legs. He smirks when he sees that I noticed.

"You want to give him a show," Elijah's breath caresses my ear like a lover's kiss. "Don't you?"

I don't tell my head to nod but it does. Elijah's hand crawls right to my pussy, his fingers brushing against it like it's the world's softest silk. It draws my eyes to it and pulls a sound from me that is as much a breath as it is a moan.

"Would you look at that," he says as my eyes dart to his. "I was right. You're soaked."

I reach for his mouth as he reaches for mine, spreading my legs wide for him as he caresses me. I'm burning with need for him, suffocating in its fumes, looking for the sweet release of the fresh air of his mouth and the tinder that is his fingers, that which would let the fire burn ever brighter until it settles.

But he puts his free hand between us and stops moving the one between my legs.

"Oh, look," he raises his eyebrows at the window behind me. "We're here."

I follow his gaze and, indeed, see the action house, The House of the Lion's Orange Knife. The lit cherub fountain and Greek columns at the front are unmistakable, as is the hubbub of people and cars before us.

"You're a monster," I tell Elijah as I turn away from The LOK.

"Oh, you have no idea," he smirks. Even Gage smiles mirthfully.

Looking from one brother to the other, I roll my eyes. "Fucking Hydra."

They both laugh as Gage pulls up around the large fountain to a row of valets.

"You know what to do?" Elijah asks his brother who nods.

"Let's get this show on the road, then," he says, and the doors on either side of us open.

I steel myself as a man in grey uniform helps me out. I stare at the Greek columns illuminated by yellow light, following their lead to the roof and the sky.

"A lot of stars out tonight," Elijah says, stepping beside me as Gage drives off to the guest parking lot underground.

"There's been a lot of that lately," I respond, looking out to the horizon where clouds are gathering. "But maybe not for long."

He follows my gaze and nods, offering me his arm. "Good thing it's inside."

I take it, snaking mine through, and nod back. He shows the butler his invite. After the old man approves, we're frisked for any weapons. After that, when the large double doors open for us, I steel myself.

And we go in.

 ━━▲━━ 

My father isn't here.

I realize this as soon as we're halfway across the ballroom, past the dance floor and the chamber orchestra playing soft music beyond it. It's not surprising; he's usually one of the last to arrive. Making people wait is just another way of showing his power, and that just makes me dread it more.

The walls in this ballroom are a homely cream, its floors marble. To the left of the dance floor, in the centre of the room, is a double staircase up to a wide foyer. Past the dance floor are tables with assigned seating for the upcoming auction and a podium with a banner displaying the logos of the Joy Haven Foundation and House of the Lion's Orange Knife. That logo—a lion holding a knife carved out of limestone—also adorns the wall above. Past that area is a buffet and a bar where Elijah and I are headed.

"You're nervous," he says as we reach it.

"No thanks to you for leaving me hanging earlier." I don't mean it but I'd have welcomed the relaxation, thank you very much. Right now, I feel like all eyes are on me. Whispering, conspiring, theorizing about what I'm doing with the Hydra instead of my father. Some women—hopefuls, no doubt—stare daggers at me for different reasons entirely. As if there aren't enough men in the world to go around, we have to fight over those we can't have. Ridiculous.

"We can find somewhere private if you want," he says as he leans against the counter, smirking.

"And give more mob wives gossip material? No thanks."

He shakes his head and the bartender makes an appearance. It's one of the two boys who brought the photos of the children to Gage and Kaen. He cleaned up nice for the part; I almost didn't recognize him.

"What can I get you, sir?" He asks.

"Scotch. Neat." Elijah looks at me. "And for the lady..."

"Same thing," I say.

"Coming right up," the guy briefly disappears under the counter.

"I didn't picture you as a scotch drinker," Elijah says.

"I'm not, usually," I watch the boy pour our drinks. "But I need something strong."

Elijah exchanges nods with the boy and picks his glass up, swirling the whisky in it.

"Why do you care about what the rabble think of you?" He asks.

"It's not that," I take my glass. "It's about what will get back to... you know..."

His eyes harden as he looks at me. "Don't let him dictate your life."

"Easier said than done," I sigh. "I've been trying to please him for years; it's how I grew up. Going against him like that is..."

I trail off as I stare into the amber liquid in my hand.

"Hey," Elijah says, bringing my eyes back to him. "You can do this, Sienna. If anyone can, it's you. And I'm with you through it all, okay? I won't let you face him alone unless you want me to."

I sigh, feeling slightly reassured by the words but still feeling the pressing weight of anxiety on my soul. I don't think any words can.

Taking a good swig of my drink, I feel the sharp burn of undiluted scotch like a ball of fire travelling down my esophagus and into my stomach. My face scrunches into something awful at this odd and bitter flavour. I've had scotch a couple of times before but never without ice, and the difference in strength is greater than I had imagined.

"How do you drink this?" I rasp and clear my throat.

Elijah laughs as he casually sips what's in his glass as if it doesn't taste like gasoline. "It's an acquired taste."

"Acquired by psychopaths," I shake, feeling warmth begin to relax me. "At least it does the job."

"Sienna!"

I turn to the feminine voice coming from behind me. It's a woman around my age, tall with dyed red hair, brown eyes and fair skin. She's wearing a navy blue gown with a plunging neckline.

"Danielle," I greet her, stomach falling as she plants a kiss on either of my cheeks. "Back from Paris, are you?"

"Oh, yes, just last night; the inheritance business was a hassle," she sighs, running a hand down her long locks. "But everything is sorted now. You're looking at the new owner and CEO of Harrison Miller LLC. Plus its subsidiaries."

"You got those too, did you?" I put on a smile while my stomach sinks lower. "That's amazing, Danielle."

"Not that I like to brag but yes, yes it is," she smiles, proud of herself. "I don't pay my lawyers a fortune for nothing."

I nod, watching her eyes flicker to Elijah.

"And what about you?" She tells me. "I've heard rumours but I didn't dare believe anything. Yet here you are with Elijah Damien Adler, of all people."

She gives him her hand. "Danielle Harrison. Pleasure to meet you."

Elijah, every hint of mirth in his face gone and replaced with a polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes, takes her hand and bows his head before releasing it. "The pleasure is mine."

I don't miss her flicker of annoyance. Though my stomach sinks low enough to punch a hole through the floor, a part of me can't help but feel elated.

"Actually, do you mind if I borrow her?" She asks him. "It'll only be a moment."

His eyes meet mine as I steel myself and he nods. "If she doesn't mind."

I let Danielle take my hand and lead me to the balcony facing the garden outside. I can't help but look back at Elijah, who is already approached by others. His eyes—always scouting his surroundings—keep flickering to me.

"So, what's the deal?" Danielle says, her back to the railing, forcing me to turn my back to the room and, in turn, to Elijah. "Like I said, I've heard many things, but I want to hear the truth from you."

I take a deep breath, knowing that whatever I say can't be unsaid. Especially not if it's to Danielle.

"My father and I had a... falling out, of sorts."

"Oooh," she puts her palms together and taps her fingers, eyes going wide. "So big that you defected to the other side and took half of his people with you? Do tell."

"They are and always were my people, Danielle. As for the reason for our falling out, you'll know soon enough."

Her disappointment makes an appearance again.

"Fair enough," she says. "But I do have to say your choices of alliances are rather... radical."

That spark of disappointment turns to a spark of something else as she looks over my shoulder. I don't have to follow her gaze to know it's Elijah she's looking at, but I do. It feels like a stab in the chest, but I don't say anything. I can't afford to.

"There was really only one other choice," I say. "Unless you know a contender?"

"Diego Castillo is here, I heard," she responds. "And he's not a big fan of Vasilios."

"He's here only briefly. And he would be no less radical."

"That's debatable," she raises an eyebrow at me. "Imari is his son, isn't he? It would make more sense than the Hydra."

I clench my teeth lest I say something I will deeply regret. I know more than she does about Imari and his father, and I know close to nothing. I can see the eagerness in her eyes, the question floating at the tip of her tongue. She's not gonna get anything from me even if I wanted to tell her. And wanting to share my best friend's pain with Danielle Harrison so she could use it for her own leverage is the last thing I want. She's lucky she's a useful asset to me because this overt display wouldn't work with many others. Her father should have taught her better.

There's that disappointment again, as subtle as a brick to the face. A smirk replaces it as she locks eyes with me, leaning forward.

"How long have we been friends, Sienna? Twenty years? You can tell me. Which one of them promised you a good fuck first?"

Rage burns inside me hotter than that whisky. For a fleeting second, I consider throwing it all to the dogs and strangling this bitch right here and now. Like she and I were ever friends. Like this is her first ever little jab.

But I swallow it as I square my shoulders. That's the good old Danielle. Pokes and taunts in every direction until she wears you down. But, like it or not, I need her and her money. She can talk like I've sold myself all she wants, I know what I am. I know why I'm doing this and who I'm doing it for. The Hydra being the reason for my departure and the Hydra being a good bonus for it are different things. If she chooses to misunderstand that, I shouldn't care. Let her believe what she wants if it'll keep her on my side.

"Ladies," a voice like nails on a chalkboard interjects. "Fancy seeing you two here."

It really fucking isn't.

A man I had hoped to never see again comes up to us, showing teeth I'd give almost anything to break.

"Hey, Ty," Danielle smiles. "Long time no see."

Not long enough.

"For sure," he tells Danielle as he puts his palm behind my back. Not quite touching me, but close enough to make me want to throw up in my mouth. "Hello, Sienna."

"Brady." I wish I could catch Elijah's eye right now. I'd bet my net worth these two have planned this.

"How's Valerie doing?" he asks.

I give him a smile so tight I feel wrinkles forming as I hold it. Valerie wonders what your balls would look like dissected on a plate. "She's fine."

"And you?" He eyes me head to toe, making me feel like I'm swimming in pig fat. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning tonight."

There was a time I would've considered Tyler Brady stunning too. His well-structured face and crooked smile have always been a hit with the ladies, including a younger me. His brown eyes are big and almond-shaped while his hair, black as his Singaporean mother's, curls like his white blond father's. The combination makes him look charmingly boyish. At least until you date him for three years and discover all the women he's cheated on you with because he was dumb enough to make a move on your best friend. Then his charming looks grow very punchable.

"Thanks," I say, and I feel this fucker's eyes on me as I look away. That's one thing in the land of mobs and gangs; they're filled with horrible people. Sometimes, be it due to their money or their influence or both, these horrible people are what make or break your survival. As with Danielle, I need Tyler and his parents' wealth and influence. This means I, yet again, have to bite my tongue.

"I think I'll leave you two alone," Danielle says and, without waiting for a response, turns and leaves in Elijah's direction.

I feel sick.

"Sienna," Tyler says. "Can we be honest for a second?"

My eyes go to him and I barely hold my glare back. No, because if I'll be honest I'll expose you to everyone you ever gave a shit about and you'll go crying to your Daddy for help because of the scared little boy that you are.

"Okay," I say.

He takes a breath as he takes my hand. I fight the urge to pull it back, thinking I'll need to find a napkin to wipe his stench off of me later.

"I feel awful about what happened," he says. "I was an idiot. The last three years in Singapore helped me see that. You... you were the best thing that has ever happened to me and I fucked it up. I fucked it up big time. And I just wanted to say I'm sorry. There's no excuse for what I've done, but I'm sorry anyway. You deserve so much better than me but, if you ever feel like you have it in your heart to give me another chance, my door is always open."

That rage builds in me again. What a fucking load of horse shit. He's spent the past three years in Singapore doing exactly what he's been doing here; whoring around on his Daddy's paycheck, not soul-searching. I don't know if he thinks Imari doesn't have tabs on him or if he thinks I'm dumb enough to believe him, but he's surely got some fucking nerve.

No, his dad is smart, I'm willing to bet the reason Tyler came back was because he made him. Because he saw what's happening with me and my father and the fortune I'm taking from him, and he wants a slice of that pie.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tyler's father at the wall. He's talking to a group of other people, but his knowing gaze meets mine. I do not doubt that he knows I can see through his son's bullshit. And in his look, he acknowledges that this is a proposition. His money, wealth, and influence in exchange for me.

I look back at Tyler, fighting with every fibre of my being to stay still and keep my eyes dry. I've never been anything but a means to an end to those people. My father's status is all that they've ever cared about and, because so many women in this line of work are forced to do it, they think I'm ready to sell myself to the highest bidder at the drop of a hat to help them get it. Because what's the occasional tussle in the hay to a fortune? What's your body, your autonomy, your self-worth, to an empire?

"I need time," I tell Tyler, my voice clipped. I don't intend to even entertain the idea of forgiving him, especially not when I'm already spoken for by people who would break him before he could blink. But a flat-out 'no' would be a 'no' to his father, and I can't have that. So I pull my hand back, but he grips it tight, not letting me go.

"Sienna," his eyes go desperate, at once scared and trying to appear intimidating. He might be a mobster's son, but a pampered prissy is a fish out of water here. "Sienna, please."

"Let go of me, Tyler."

He grips me tighter. I fight the urge to break his hand.

"I love you." His words make my skin crawl as tears form in his eyes. He's always been a scared crier, especially when he'd have to face his angry father. "Sienna, I'm nothing without you. Please."

A hand clasps him on his shoulder, squeezing tight.

"I believe she told you to let go," Elijah's voice, like the sweet breath of air after nearly drowning, rings in my ears.

Tyler looks over his shoulder at his ice-cold glare. Elijah's posture is relaxed and laid back as if he doesn't even have to flex a pinkie to beat this guy to a pulp, which is probably the case. But the raging storm behind his eyes is unmissable, and the grip on Tyler's shoulder is tight enough to make him sag.

Tyler drops my hand immediately.

"Good lad," Elijah pats him on the shoulder and smooths out the creases he had left. Quieter, he says, "Now if you ever touch her again, I'll feed you your balls."

Paling, Tyler swallows.

Elijah pats his arms. "Run along, now."

Tail between his legs, Tyler flees.

Like a calming hurricane, Elijah's eyes soften as he holds me by my waist. "Are you okay?"

I nod, feeling like I just walked out of a suffocating room.

"You could've handled him yourself." There's no question in Elijah's words.

I press my hands to his chest. "Could and should. Offending his family isn't smart. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea."

"What?"

"I mean, me coming as your plus one. Too many people are trying to take advantage and I have to cede control more often than not. I should've seen it coming."

"No," he lifts my chin to him. "Sienna, you don't know the power that you have."

Behind him, I see Danielle approaching and gently push him off. He sighs, frowning.

"Looks like Ty made an ass of himself again, hasn't he?"

"Something like that," I mumble.

"Oh, well," she shrugs. "For what it's worth, Sienna, you have my support. Monetarily and otherwise."

I blink, almost disbelieving what I just heard, until I remember her game when she smiles at Elijah.

"The music is lovely, don't you think?" She asks him. "Would you care to take a lady for a dance?"

I feel myself coming apart at the seams. I shouldn't have come here with him. I should've known this would happen and what I'd be getting myself into. I'm like a dying animal purposefully stepping into the vulture's nest. And they all laugh as they not only wait for me to expire but try and take what is mine too.

"I would." Though his words send a stab through my heart, I'm glad he says that. If anyone would understand, it'd be Elijah. He knows how to play this game.

But then his eyes go to mine and extends his hand. "If the lady would like one."

He pulls the knife out of my heart with those words, but not before twisting. I glare at him, willing him to read my mind, telling him with my eyes that this is a mistake. But he doesn't listen as he takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, leaving Danielle bereft and fuming.

"What are you doing?" I snap. "Go dance with her."

"No," he says as he holds me by my waist. "There's only one person here I want to dance with and it's not her."

"Don't be ridiculous," I snap again, though that wound in my chest mends at those words. "You heard her, she inherited a fucking textile empire—millions of dollars—and she just offered it to us on a silver platter. And you just insulted her. She—what are you doing?"

I watch as he retrieves his phone and begins tapping the screen.

"Elijah, what are you—?"

"I just bought her out."

I freeze, my eyes bulging as my heart jumps to my throat.

"You what?"

"I just bought her out," he repeats, a smirk growing on his face.

Blinking, I glance at her glaring face.

"That's impossible," I say. "You need attorneys for that, negotiators, financial—"

He shows me his screen. A shared purchase agreement.

"I won't bore you with the details," he says. "But suffice it to say she didn't own as much of the company as she thought she did. Most of it belongs to Azure Financial."

"You mean..."

"My bank. Yes."

My jaw falls to the floor as my eyes go to Danielle again. I watch her take her phone out of her clutch and read her screen, eyes going wide and face going as red as her hair.

"How the—"

"Sienna," he presses his hands to my arms. "Have you completely forgotten who we are? Who you are?"

I open my mouth to answer but he doesn't let me.

"You and I are equal, Sienna. You told me that, and I've seen enough bank statements and purchase agreements to last a lifetime this past week that prove it. I'm not doing anything you can't do, so stop bending over backwards to please these motherfuckers. It's leagues and leagues beneath you. An empress doesn't bend to a foot soldier."

I take a deep breath as his words hang between us. A part of me knows he's right, but I can't bring myself to admit it. Maybe I'm not as used to working with my power as I thought I was. Maybe I've internalized my father's accusations of incompetence. But then why do I not behave like that with the Hydra?

My eyes go to Danielle again. With her phone to her ear, she rushes to a hallway.

"You've ruined her life, you know," I tell Elijah.

"Hardly," he says. "She's still worth several million, and I didn't touch any of her overseas assets, so she can be an aristocrat in France. If anything, I did her a favour by getting her out of this before she tanked her business."

"You have very little faith in her."

"I've seen what this life can do to you, Sienna. I know the difference between being a mobster's child and being a major player. I can tell who's cut out for it and who isn't. She isn't."

"And I am?"

Holding my gaze, he puts my hand to his lips.

"You can do anything," he says as he holds it out. "Why do you think I fell for you?"

As butterflies begin their dance in my belly, he spins me. The chamber orchestra plays a slow string ensemble that grows and blooms as it progresses. The vocalist, soft and dreamy as if in a fairytale, comes in shortly after.

"I never thought you were a dancer," I say as he twirls me.

"I'm not, usually," he smiles that dimpled smile. "But I can make an exception."

Everything else disappears as Elijah leads me through the chorus. Other people dancing, men and women staring, even Tyler and his father vanish into the far corners of my mind as he sways with me. His eyes—never leaving mine—look like blue opals under the warm light. His smile—one that I've only ever seen him give me—brightens him like no light can. His hands—one holding mine, the other on my waist—make my heart seize with every movement, every reminder that he holds me in his arms.

"I can look at you like this all day," he tells me. "You're amazing, Sienna. In every way."

He dips me low to the ground, coming close enough for his breath to caress my lips. My hand flies to his face as if by instinct as I look into those ocean eyes.

"Elijah," I feel my emotions climb up my throat as I whisper his name. "I—"

He lifts me back up, spinning me as the song comes to an end, mouth getting closer and closer to mine until he stops and our lips touch. Somewhere in the back of my mind, fireworks erupt. Somewhere deep in my soul, a part of me weeps tears of joy, as if this man's lips unlocked the cage it had called its home for the past twenty-five years that I have been alive and set it free.

When I open my eyes and see his smile, I mirror it. When he touches his forehead to mine, a laugh I can't control escapes me. I didn't drink much, but I feel drunk on him. I don't ever want to let go of him.

But, eventually, we pull apart. And, when we do, my heart freezes and my stomach contracts in knots tight enough to make me want to vomit.

Because I'm facing my father's freezing eyes.