House of Scarlett Read online

  “Who do we have left?” I ask.

  Amy lowers herself onto the couch beside me. “She was our last appointment of the day, and your schedule is clear for the rest of the afternoon and evening. Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, I’m fine. I need to go look through my closet and see what I can find for Meryl’s gala on Saturday night.”

  Amy’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Oh crap. You don’t have a dress sorted out already? Do you want me to call that designer back from the other day and see if they have anything that could work on short notice?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’m done with people for today, but thanks. I’ll find something, or I’ll call Harlow. She’s always trying to loan me dresses.”

  “Okay. Just . . . don’t let that bitch get to you. You’re better than that.”

  I think about the urge I had to punch Lucy Byers in the face, which was new and different for me. Maybe Gabriel is rubbing off?

  I sure hope so.

  I’m tired of being the girl who is too polite to stand up for herself. That might not have been fun, but at least I’m proud of how I handled it. I am nobody’s doormat.

  “I’ll be fine. Especially once I see Gabriel.” When Amy’s gaze dips, I immediately wonder why she isn’t meeting my eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  “I know it’s not my place to say, but . . . are you sure taking him to the gala is a good idea? It’s not really his scene, you know.”

  I rise from the sofa. “Everyone needs to stop assuming he doesn’t know how to handle himself. Everything will be fine, Ames. Just wait and see.”

  Fifty-Eight

  Legend

  I still haven’t heard from Bruce and Gerard, and neither have returned the emails I’ve sent asking for an update on the venue selection. Their radio silence makes walking into the meeting with my investors on Thursday less than ideal.

  As Cannon Freeman, Jared Jones-Wyatt, and Lou France file into the office we’ve converted into a conference room for today, I wish I’d put on a fucking suit to feel more like the CEO I’m supposed to be. I hate that I feel this way.

  Q and Big Mike step inside last. At least they won’t be surprised to see me in ripped jeans and a hoodie. Some things don’t change.

  As the men take their seats around the table, I remind myself that I got here without fancy suits, and wearing one now won’t change who I am. I can learn to be slick and polished if I wanted to, but none of these guys could have done what I did with what I had. The thought buoys my confidence as I survey our guests.

  “Creighton couldn’t make it. I’m here as his proxy,” Freeman says.

  I remember approaching them on the sidewalk one night, both of them looking at me like I was crazy for going legit. But they both ponied up some money, which shocked me. I thought for sure they wouldn’t change their minds after they initially shot me down.

  Then again, it was Creighton Karas who insisted on this meeting to discuss the future of the club and the disappointing financials, so it’s bullshit he couldn’t make it. Rather than start the meeting off on a bad foot, I nod.

  Jared Jones-Wyatt is a trust fund kid who can’t say no to coke or any kind of action he can bet on. He was a regular at my underground club, blowing thousands a night on himself and whatever crew of chicks he brought with him. He always bet on me in every fight, though, and that’s why I invited him to bet on me again with Legend. His tolerance for risk is high as fuck, and I don’t expect any pushback from him, no matter which way the meeting goes. He’s on my side.

  Lou France leans back in the leather chair, his short arms crossed over his chest. Lou is a retired bookie who wanted a legit investment to help make his retirement more comfortable. From the frown on his face that strangely resembles Danny DeVito, I’m not picking up a good vibe from him.

  Off to my left is Big Mike, next to Q, who both put in their hard-earned cash, even after I tried to talk them out of it. I didn’t want their money on the line because I know how fucking hard Big Mike works, and the thought of losing even a penny that belonged to him made me sick. But when it came down to it, I needed every cent I could get, and when they insisted, I caved.

  I promised all of them they’d get a hell of a return on their investment. That there was no chance that I could fail. That Legend would become just that—the most legendary club this city has ever seen.

  I’ve failed to deliver, and now I’m being called on the carpet to answer for it.

  Zoe slips into the room and shuts the door behind her. She takes a chair near the wall with a notepad, ready to take notes on the meeting.

  I rise from my seat at the head of the table, facing Freeman at the foot. “Welcome back to Legend. I’ll skip the bullshit song and dance, if you don’t mind, and get right to the reason you’re all here.”

  “Fine by me,” Lou says, lifting his chin. “I got chess in the park in an hour. Hoping we can make this snappy.”

  I take his comment as a good sign and return his chin jerk. “As you all know, the shooting that happened on our grand opening night was a huge blow to Legend.”

  “Killed it dead on day one,” Jared says with a shake of his head. “Total clusterfuck. Still no word from the cops on who did it?”

  “I’ve got new information that we’re tracking down,” I tell him, thinking of the rumors circling about Bodhi Black’s possible involvement.

  “Are you going to share that information?” Freeman asks.

  “Not yet, because it won’t bring the club back to where it needs to be, and that’s what you’re all concerned about—your money.”

  “Creighton wanted to make sure everyone is aware that a unanimous vote of the investors would shut the club down and lead to immediate liquidation and return of our investments.”

  “Whoa, whoa, Freeman. No reason to pull out the big guns yet. Let the boy talk.” Big Mike’s defense of me keeps me from telling Cannon Freeman to shove his hopes of a unanimous vote up his ass, but I don’t lose my cool.

  “I wouldn’t be too hasty pulling that card, gentlemen. I’ve got potential action lined up that could bring in enough cash to pay all of you off—in full.”

  Every man at the table stares at me in varying degrees of shock as they sit up higher in their chairs to listen.

  “What are you talking about?” Jared asks, the greed already visible in his posture as he leans in.

  “I’m in negotiation to host a fight night—”

  Lou interrupts. “Thought you were staying legit, Legend.” Accusation underlies his tone. “If you wanted to stick with the fighting, you never should’ve slaughtered the cash cow.”

  “A sanctioned fight night with a main event that’ll sell even more tickets, because Legend’s a bigger venue than the one they originally chose and lost.”

  Freeman threads his fingers together and taps his thumbs. “Tell us more.”

  “Eight fights. Balcony seats alone will bring in close to half a million. Legend takes fifty percent of the gate. We charge a premium for everything that night, especially the liquor. The place will be packed.”

  Practically salivating at the betting that’ll be going on, Jared’s eyes go big. “Who’s fighting? What’s the main event?”

  I scan the table, meeting each of their eyes before I give them the information I hope will sway them back. “Me and Bodhi Black.”

  Their reaction is a mixture of raised eyebrows, gasps of surprise, and clapping.

  “Fuck yeah,” Jared says with a fist pump. “I’ve been waiting for that rematch since you ended the last fight. This is going to be fucking raw. You two are going to try to take each other’s heads off.”

  “You sure putting your neck on the line is the right way to save this club, Gabe?” This question comes from Big Mike. The concern on his face is probably the closest I’ll ever get to having a father give a shit about me.

  “When you put your money down to back me, I made all of you a promise that I wouldn’t fail. An
d if this is what it takes, then this is exactly the right way to save the club. It could lead to other events. Open Legend up to new opportunities.”

  Big Mike goes quiet. I know he’ll support me, even if he thinks it’s a bad idea.

  “I’m all for it, as long as I get a ticket,” Lou says, looking to me. “You making that happen?”

  It’s not something I’ve thought about, but I don’t have a choice. “Yeah, you get two tickets if you want them. Might as well come see your investment being protected.”

  “And you’ve got this event nailed down? Contracts signed? It’s happening for sure?”

  I’m not surprised that the hard questions come from Cannon Freeman.

  “Next week,” I reply with more confidence than I feel. “It’s in the works as we speak.”

  He rests his elbows on the table and studies me. “And what if it doesn’t happen? You got a backup plan?”

  “Legend and Black have a sanctioned fight, anyway,” Jared says with excitement buzzing through every word. “I know a guy on the commission. He and I have an understanding. You don’t need an undercard, man. People will pay through the ass to see you two try to kill each other.”

  It’s an option I haven’t even considered. I know how to organize a fight. I’ve watched Rolo do it for years.

  “That’s right. We’ll have the fight anyway. Undercard or not. This shit’s happening, and it’s going to be one of the most talked-about combat events this city has ever seen.”

  Freeman’s shoulders lift and then fall. “It’s your head, Legend. You want to do this, then do it. I won’t call for a vote to liquidate if you’re still committed.”

  I don’t have a choice.

  “I’m committed. You can take that to the bank.”

  Fifty-Nine

  Scarlett

  Kelsey spritzes my face with one last pump of setting spray and steps back to assess her finished work. “You always look amazing, but tonight, you’re glowing.”

  I glance at the mirror behind her. I look even more dewy than normal, and I’m digging the look. “Only because you’re an artist, Kels.”

  She leans in to air-kiss me. “It helps to have an awesome canvas to start with. Whatever you’re doing . . . keep it up, girl. Your skin is perfect.”

  “I’ve made zero changes to my routine, but I am happier. You think that could be it?”

  Kelsey beams. “Absolutely. Happiness is about the best complexion booster I’ve ever seen. Well, that and a good pregnancy glow. You’re not knocked up, are you?”

  I choke on air and cough. “What? No. Oh my God. Of course not.”

  But my mind immediately goes to all the condom-less sex I’ve been having lately. After we skipped one by accident and discussed our mutual lack of risk, we’ve never gone back. Last night, after hanging at the club for a few hours, Gabriel came home with me, and we christened my kitchen table. Thankfully, he moved the giraffe salt and pepper shakers, or they never would have survived the ride.

  “Well, good, that means you can pour enough wine down your gullet to make tonight fun. Harlow was bitching because I had to get her ready early this afternoon, and she wasn’t going to be able to eat anything for the rest of the day. She said she’d make sure to tell you herself how unfair it is that you get my best time slots.”

  “Harlow can bitch all she wants, but she’s too cheap to pay you what I do.”

  Kelsey nods. “Damn straight. And we all know Mama’s got bills to pay. Now, when is lover boy showing up?”

  I check the time on my phone. “In fifteen minutes. Shit. We’d better hurry.”

  I pop out of the chair and walk into the bedroom, where my gown is hanging from a hook in the corner. The shimmering azure-blue silk corset top is exceptionally flattering and forgiving—and my favorite part about the dress. Although, it’s a close one, because the skirt’s simple lines are elegantly accentuated by a slit to mid-thigh. It’s a bright color, but Meryl’s events always eschew the traditional black for women. She says color reminds everyone that the charity supports children, and black is too boring.

  And . . . this gown is the color of my date’s eyes, which made it an easy decision.

  Once the dress is securely fastened and my jewelry is in place, I slip on my heels and step in front of the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door.

  “You think it’ll do?”

  Kelsey laughs from behind me. “Girl, if this were a fairy tale, Prince Charming wouldn’t even notice Cinderella because he’d be too busy staring at you.”

  The intercom buzzes in the kitchen, and I smile. “He’s here.”

  “I’ll go let him up. You stay. I want to see his face when he sees you.”

  I back away from the mirror so she can slip out the bedroom door. As soon as I hear Gabriel’s voice, I take a deep breath and step out of the room, smoothing my hands over my cinched waist.

  “Holy shit,” Gabriel whispers when he sees me. He stares for a long moment before coming forward, which gives me time to appreciate the clean lines of his tux.

  “You look amazing, bossy.”

  He doesn’t say anything about my nickname attempt, which is fine by me because his smile could light up Manhattan. “You look incredible. Holy fuck.” He shakes his head and glances at Kelsey, and then back to me. “Goddamn, woman. You’re stunning.”

  I step toward him. “I would kiss you for that, but Kelsey would kill me.”

  “Shit, that reminds me, you need your clutch. Let me grab it and slip your lippy, mirror, and powder in it. Then you kids can be off to the gala.”

  Kelsey rushes back into the bedroom, and Gabriel closes the distance between us. He raises a hand into the air near my face and traces the line of my jaw with the back of his fingers without actually touching me. “You look too fine for these hands of mine to even dream of touching you.”

  “Well, your hands better get over that, because I expect you to touch me a lot tonight.”

  A wicked gleam forms in his dazzling sapphire eyes. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  A few minutes later, we take the elevator down from the fourth floor, through Curated, so I don’t have to walk down all the stairs in my four-inch heels. When we reach the black Escalade out front with a uniformed driver standing at the back door, I shoot a look at Gabriel.

  “What’s all this?”

  “Your new driver and security.” He stops in front of the man. “Scarlett, this is Eddie O’Halloran. Hal, this is Scarlett.”

  “Good to meet ya, ma’am,” he says with an Irish lilt. “You can call me Eddie or Hal. I’ll answer to either.”

  I shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Hal. Thank you.”

  “Nah, the pleasure’s all mine. Gabe here has done me plenty of favors, and I was happy for the chance to return one. Nothing will happen to you with me around, Ms. Priest. I promise you that.”

  Sixty

  Legend

  As soon as we pull up to the red-carpeted stairs, I know I’m out of my element, despite the fancy tux I’m wearing and the beautiful woman on my arm.

  Hal hops out of the SUV to open the door, and I climb out first, offering my hand to Scarlett. Cameras flash all around us as she steps out of the Escalade.

  Her smile is as perfect as the rest of her, and she knows exactly how to handle the photographers. I take her lead and do what she does, pausing here and there for them to take more pictures of us than I thought were humanly possible.

  Leaning slightly, I speak directly into her ear. “Is it always like this?”

  Scarlett’s smile doesn’t budge. “Not always. But Meryl is trying to raise a lot of money tonight, so I’m not surprised she pulled out all the stops. Making people feel important can really help the cause.”

  “What exactly is the cause again?”

  We finish passing through the camera-heavy gauntlet before she answers. “Building project. She needs to expand the center she runs for at-risk youth. It’s a huge undertaking, and she needs
all the money she can get.”

  “Got it.”

  We walk into a ballroom already filled with people mingling. I see plenty of familiar faces, but none who would actually admit to knowing who I am. Rich guys liked to frequent my underground club, but they would never acknowledge me on the street because it would mean admitting where they’d been.

  Several eyes lock on me and Scarlett, and you can almost watch the gossip travel from group to group until even more people are staring.

  If I thought I was out of place before, I feel like a fish out of water right now. My tux feels too tight, and all I want to do is walk straight out that door, but I wouldn’t do that to Scarlett. No fucking way.

  I slowly inhale a deep breath through my nose and let it out. They can say whatever the fuck they want about me, but if anyone says a cross word about her . . . I won’t be responsible for what happens next.

  Thankfully, a familiar blonde comes bouncing in our direction with a man in a suit trailing behind her.

  “Scar, you made it! Oh my God, the antique silver tea set you donated to the silent auction is absolutely freaking incredible. I didn’t know you even had it! I’m jelly as hell because the bid is already two grand, and the silent auction has only been open for ten minutes.”

  “Even I was tempted when I saw it,” says another voice that comes from the opposite side of Scarlett. Meryl Fosse. “Maybe I’ll have to rethink my position on Curated, because that tea set is divine.”

  “Call me next week, Meryl, and we’ll set up a private appointment for you,” Scarlett says with pride. “I think you’ll be quite surprised by what you see and what we can do for you.”

  The grand dame herself nods. “I’ll do that. It’ll be my treat to myself for pulling off this gala.” She shifts her attention to me. “You look sharp, Mr. Legend. I hope you’ll bring your little brother by sometime in the next few weeks. He seems like a truly remarkable individual, and I have several kids who would really benefit from meeting him.”