Chapter 24

“Just tell me.”

“Just go get dressed.”

“I’m sick of playing dress up.”

Two days have passed since our meet with Daku. Two days of me begging to know what they said.

“This event is important, a party pool of elite investors. It’s imperative we make a good impression.”

“You say that like I care? It’s not like you need me there.”

“You’re right.” He peers at me from over his shoulder. “But Orian insisted.”

“What did Daku say?”

“Look.” Torin whirls around, checking his watch for the fourth time. With a flattened hand, he taps underneath my chin. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with, neonata.”

My cheeks scrunch up. “Baby girl? I think I prefer Miss Moor.”

“Whatever you wish, Miss Moor,” he purrs. He sends me a wink and spins back around. “I suggest you go. You really don’t want to be troublesome when that man is in a foul mood.”

I snort. “This is a man that lit a guy on fire because he touched me. I think I learnt my lesson to not underestimate his cruelty.”

Torin breaks into a fit of laughter, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“And what’s so funny?”

“The fact that you think that was cruel.” Chuckling, he shakes his head, morbidly amused. “My dear brother was never the sharing type.”

“Then one last question.”

He slows to a stop, exhaling excessively.

“Why the Katana swords?”

He shrugs thoughtfully. “Orian once said: any boy can pull a trigger, but it takes a man to draw a sword. Something Daku taught him.” He meets my eye, a veil falling over his face. “But I’ve seen the thrill in him, wetting his blade with the blood of many. I think he just likes it. That he wants to get close enough to look into their eyes and watch their souls slip from their bodies.”

An adorned hand offers itself to me.

I take it and Orian gently guides me out. My arm hooks around his. The long trail of the rose-gold sequin dress follows after me. Long-sleeved with a crewneck and one classic, high slit. Torin and Orian are twinning in black custom-tailored suits. We make our way to the Ultra-contemporary skyscraper, overlooking the multitude of media and print publications. This event is conducted at the highest point, with access to the rooftop.

The elevator opens up to a utopia, sky-high lounge. Mega luxurious with an infinity pool and a rounding glass railing, teeming with elegantly dressed people handling an array of curated cocktails. Impressing its spectators with a spectacular three-hundred-and sixty-five-degree view of the dazzling city.

“How many of these things do you attend?” Permitting the frustration in my voice.

“Barely any.” He looks down at me. His eyes inching over my body from top to bottom. “But now I have... inspiration.”

On advent, they don’t have to do anything. The first-class cluster draws to them. Torin spearheads the conversation whilst Orian stares broodily, suffering through a banal of small talk and brazen business promotion. Exchanging a tirade of toxic masculinity.

“I’m glad I didn’t miss this,” a man says. Orian and I share his look of underlying scrutiny. “I nearly missed it. One of my extensions collapsed, just hemorrhaging profit loss. I was only able to donate thirty million this quarter.”

“I totally understand,” Torin says with mock compassion. “We also had to make some cutbacks, too. We only managed to donate, maybe, a hundred million. Round about that. Budget has been tight this year.”

Torin claps a hand on his shoulder before he signals to another. Orian and I follow.

“You see him?”

Orian nods.

“Who?”

“Edward Sterling, a major tycoon in real-estate and shipping. A household brand. His son, a trust fund cunt, destined to inherit the endless family fortune. Not even his dumbass can burn through all that money.”

Old money type. I’ve heard of him. “Is there a problem?”

Torin hums a yes. “Every corporate launch or any Zenith-hosted function, he has ignored every invite. He can’t even show us the disrespect and reject them.”

I free a wry snicker. “You seriously can’t see why he doesn’t want to ally with Zenith; A corporate entity that disregards environmental concerns but its only agenda is commercial expansion into every sector. And you cover it up behind a visage of charitable giving, earning the prestige of being one of the world’s top ten philanthropists in the world.”

“Interesting,” Torin says in deep thought.

“What?”

“I didn’t know you were so obsessed with us.”

“Of course I was,” I say shamelessly. “In order to destroy your enemy, you must know your enemy.” I look at the elderly man entertaining an entourage of men. “Do you really need his support? Last time I heard, Zenith has a powerhouse of investors bolstering its corporation.”

“Investors that look to him,” Torin explains. “There’s a stereotype among the middle-class that billionaires are only friends with other billionaires. For the most part, it’s true. Same with investors. And he’s like the prince. He has the power to dissuade others from associating with Zenith. He’s either a powerful ally or a problematic enemy.”

“Problem, huh?” I say under my breath. “You can’t neutralize everyone you have a problem with.”

“Tell that to my boss,” he mutters, making a gesture to Orian with his eyes.

Torin takes point, lighting up a kilowatt smile. “Mr Sterling,” he greets in a boisterous voice.

Mr Sterling rotates, his face souring at the sight of the Moon brothers. He poorly attempts an indulgent smile and the temperature of the collective reception descends into the negatives. Tuning out their conversation, my gaze wanders around the soiree and I’m surprised to see many faces that I recognise. Other CEOs and even politicians that are on my hit list right under Zenith. So many of them all in one place.

Voices spike amid them, drawing my attention back.

“In good conscience, I couldn’t support your organization. I don’t appreciate people that conduct their business in the shadows and throw money to sway attention from their dealings. Zenith has a flaccid ethic code. I stand with men that bear integrity.”

A spark of outrage surprises me more than anyone. And the words fall before I can catch them. “And what is your measure of integrity?” I ask. His company of aristocrats look at me curiously. “Only giving when there are cameras around for media coverage is worse than not giving at all. I know about your foundations, Mr Sterling. Donating food and blankets to the improvised, very admirable. But Zenith has schemes to teach people to provide for themselves instead of relying on the provision of others.”

Mr Sterling’s gray eyes storm with a maelstrom of emotions.

“And very presumptions of you to assume their ‘apathy’ towards the environment without knowing the facts,” I add boldly, immune to the dirty looks. “If you did. You would know that Zenith has a series of going-green initiatives to mitigate its greenhouse gas emissions, cutting back on toxic substances. Unlike other corporate moguls, Mr Moon doesn’t boast. He just does. So I ask you, what is your measure of integrity?”

He stares at me for a long while before he releases a throaty old man’s chuckle. “Well, I think you’ve just defined it.” He sneaks a look at Orian. “It is possible that my appraisal was incorrect. I’m not too prideful to admit when I’m wrong.” He chucks him another glance, like an owner casting his dog his leftovers. “But I’m yet to be proven wrong.”

“Zenith owns branches of various divisionsAztech has distinguished itself as a preeminent entity in electronic and industrial technology on a global scale. And even in real estate, owning hundreds of stores and subsidiary markets globally. Mr Moon has nothing to prove to you, in fact, from where he’s standing. It’s actually the other way around.”

Mr Sterling clears his throat and buttons up his blazer. “If you will excuse me.” He turns to leave, expecting the others to follow him, but instead they remain.

A few start making inquiries, all of them listening whilst Torin answers.

“Why did you do that?”

I glance back at him. “Just playing my part as the obedient little hostage. Make no mistake. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for my mom.”

His glare blisters my periphery.

“Orian?” a feminine voice questions.

We both turn around.

Heaven must have opened up when I was not looking because a whole goddess glides over. And to make it better, she’s wearing a one-strap gold dress that fits her queenly hourglass figure like a glove. Matching her achilles-gold locks that are held up in a fancy updo, a few strands left loose on either side of her face. She goes in for a full hug. Orian sends me a devious look before their bodies entwine in a drawn-out embrace.

I cast my gaze over the railing.

She pulls away. “It’s so good to see you again.” Wrinkling her nose. “I was wondering when we’re going to meet after our trip to Milan.”

What?

Orian fixes his collar coolly. “I’ve been busy.” He motions to me. “Olivia, this is—”

“Hadassah Moor,” I say with an infallible smile. “Family friend.”

She flashes me an angelic smile. “The pleasure is all mine. And can I just say…” She leans in, placing her hand at the corner of her mouth as if to tell me a secret. “You’re wearing the gold so much better.”

We share a cordial laugh as real as her acrylic nails.

“Anyway. Orian, Andrew is here, and he’s been dying to share his new prototype with you. A cutting-edge virtual reality system promising a transformative gaming experience.”

She extends her hand, fluttering her fingers invitingly.

I stare at him questioningly. He looks back at me, smirks and takes her hand, walking off with her to the row of tall tables and chairs lined up alongside the glass railing. I gawk at him, seething silently. Before I can decide on anything, Torin emerges out of nowhere.

“I can sense your jealousy from over there, darling.”

I glower at him. “Believe what you want.”

Music begins playing in the background. Torin points to the sky. “And I do believe this is my favorite song. Dance with me?”

“No.”

Torin shrugs and starts bobbing, grooving like a dad trying to bust the moves he did back in the day.

“Please stop,” I beg, restraining a smile. “You’re really going to do this in front of all these rich snobs?”

“And?” he says, dramatizing his movements. “I’m too rich to care. You can either join me or stop judging me.”

He places his hands behind his head, swaying his hips, gyrating, moving them in sexy circles. “You like that?” he asks, thrusting his pelvis at me.

A laugh escapes me. ”No,” I say, giggling, “Torin, stop.”

I grab his hips, trying to hold him still. He stops, glancing sideways before he looks at me pointedly. “I don’t think my brother likes your hands on me.”

I sneak a look at Orian’s table with the woman and another man. They’re talking to him ecstatically, but Orian’s eyes are bolted on me with the searing look of a betrayed lover.

“Does that upset you?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Laughing, he takes my hand and spins me around. On the final twirl, he brings me to him and I turn around, grinding against him, holding our hands above my head as I work my way down, sensually and slowly. I bend over shaking my ass against his—Orian yanks him back violently. Pushing him again, raring like a wolf that’s on the verge of an attack. Torin staggers back, guffawing carelessly.

His gaze slices back to me. “Come.”

He goes for my hand. I dodge him.

“Olivia is waiting.” My tone drenched in bitterness.

He snatches my hand. I hide a grimace. He drags me back to their table.

“Should I get another chair?” the man offers.

Wordlessly, Orian takes me by the waist and seats me on his lap, his one arm locked around me. I look over at Torin. He scoops up an electric blue cocktail from a passing waiter, downing half of it. He meets my gaze and holds out his other hand, making half a heart with his index and middle finger. My hand covers my mouth, muffling a laugh as I lift my opposite hand to complete his heart from a distance.

Orian seizes my thigh—I jolt at the shot of electricity.

I glare back at him, his eyes mirroring the night.

I look straight, shaking my head stiffly.

He leans closer, angling, his breath tickling my ear. “Good girl.”

I resist the urge to punch him right in the face. Uncomfortable, I shift, and shift again, annoyed by his phone or whatever hard thing that’s prominently protruding.

“You could at least move your—” I grab without looking. My hand flies up with a gasp.

“My dick?”

Olivia and the man fall silent, my face burning.

“I’m kind of attached to it.”