empire-waist dress. I should feel like a doll, but I don’t. Which is weird, because it definitely felt like Cass was playing dress up with me. He always insists on dressing me and anyone else who doesn’t have enough willpower to turn him down before we leave the house.
My curls are scooped up on top of my head, but a few straggle down around my neck. I’m even wearing a touch of lipstick and a slick of mascara, which is usually all they allow me to wear, makeup-wise. I was also denied underwear, but that’s a battle I lost a long time ago.
Thankfully I managed to get away with a pair of mules and not high heels like Cass almost always insists I wear.
It’s not my problem they’re all at least a foot taller than me.
The lawyer comes back with an envelope.
She’s already handed me the keys to my old house, which is the only thing Gabriel left me in his will. Apparently, he only had a hundred dollars to his name. He didn’t own a car, or any shares or anything. No overseas bank accounts. Nothing.
Just the house which, according to the lawyer, had been transferred into his name less than a year ago by my parents’ estate.
“What’s this?” I ask her.
And for the first time today, despite my barrage of questions, she shrugs. “It was found among his things. It’s marked for your attention only.”
“Maybe it’s the password,” Apollo says.
I don’t have to look around to know his brothers are all glaring at him.
Best way to keep a secret? Don’t tell Apollo.
“Password?” the lawyer repeats.
I wave my hand, and then toss a curl over my shoulder as I stand. “Private joke,” I tell her. Then I stick out my hand, all formal like, and wait for her to shake.
She does, but reluctantly, as if she’s waiting for me to open the envelope.
Don’t hold your breath, lady.
I turn to leave, when Zachary says, “Did he leave a note?”
Freezing, I stare at the door. Only a few more steps, and we’d have been outside. Free.
But not yet.
“Um…yes. But I can’t disclose—”
I turn on my heel, my voice snippy with how desperate I want to be out of here. “I’m next of kin. You can disclose it to me.”
The woman looks at my men, then back at me. “I…have a copy.”
“That’s fine.” I cross my arms, giving my boobs a little perk that doesn’t go unnoticed. When I take the folded paper she hands me, and head for the door, my men follow me without a word.
Outside in the Range Rover, I’m nestled between Zachary and Reuben on the back seat, Cass driving and Apollo sitting shotgun.
Someone lights a joint, but I’m too busy staring at the envelope in my hands to see who it is.
They read Gabriel’s suicide note in the elevator on the way down, handing it silently to each other. Rube wanted to give it to me, but I ignored him.
I don’t want to know what Gabriel said.
Judging from their lack of conversation on the topic for the next five floors until we hit ground level, it wasn’t important anyway.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Cass asks.
I look up, catching sight of his iridescent blue eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
I slip the envelope into my purse, and tuck it between Zach and me. He looks over at the touch, and then grabs my wrist. He holds me for a beat, tight and fierce, and then smooths my hand over his thigh.
“Home then?” Cass asks.
“I’m hungry,” Apollo says.
“You ate like an hour ago,” Cass sighs.
“So?”
“Christ. Fine. And I’m guessing you want a fucking taco? Where’s the closest—”
“Take me to Maude Street,” I tell Cass.
Beside me, Rube shifts on his seat. I keep looking forward, willing him not to ask me if I’m okay.
Because I’m not.
But maybe I will be if I can finally burn my bridges.
I told the lawyer that I didn’t want the house. That she could sell it. I signed some papers setting it all up.
But I know what my men want.
And now, maybe, I can finally give it to them.
“The safe?” Apollo asks, turning in his seat and grabbing the headrest. “We’re going to look in the safe?”
“It’s probably empty by now,” Zachary says.
“Yeah, but maybe it’s not.” Apollo grins at me. “And we know the combination.”
“Do you still remember it?” Rube asks me.
Of course I do. It came back along with everything else that happened that horrific day.
4211.
The same combination that opens