The Lies We Tell (The Four #1) - Becca Steele Page 0,86

away from the stripper, and we followed his gaze to the middle booth, where Michael Lowry sat with a topless woman in his lap, smoking a cigar while his other hand disappeared under the table.

Zayde sighed heavily. “Let’s go.”

“You don’t wanna talk to him?” Cass smirked, but Z was already heading out of the room.

We ran straight into my father, coming down the corridor with Paul Drummond, Cassius’ father. Both tall and imposing, impeccably dressed as always.

“There you are,” he greeted us. “You boys having fun? Enjoying everything the club has to offer?” He gave me a smarmy wink, clapping me on the back.

“Yeah. It’s not what I expected,” I said honestly.

“In what way?” Paul eyed me.

“Strippers? Drugs?”

“Listen, boys. This is our world. We work hard for our money, and at the weekends we play the role of family men. Here…we can blow off steam. Relax. Have our whims catered to. Network. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“So you’re playing at being a father, are you?” Cass gave Paul a hard look.

“Son, you know I didn’t mean it like that. You, and Lena, and your mother…you’re important to me. We’re family. I can’t speak for everyone, though…” He trailed off with a shrug and a twist of his mouth.

“Okay. Good,” Cass muttered, looking down at the floor.

“Drinks.” My father clapped his hands. “Come into the bar—I’ve reserved us a table.”

We sat in a large booth for the next hour, making small talk. My father spoke briefly about a construction contract they were trying to win, and Paul discussed the troubles Alstone Holdings was having with one of their building suppliers. I filed away every bit of information, even if it didn’t seem important—as I knew my boys would, too.

Michael, Zayde’s dad, joined us after a while and asked if we wanted in on the next poker game. Just over an hour later, me and Cass had both folded, West and the two other guys we were playing with were out, and Z had a pile of chips in front of him and a triumphant gleam in his eye. Fuck knows why I bothered playing poker against him. He had the best poker face I’d ever seen, bar none, and no tells—none that I’d ever noticed, anyway.

Michael had left us to play and gone back to the booth where my dad and Paul were sitting, joined by another three of my father’s friends and colleagues. As our game came to an end, I noticed all of them rise from their booth and head through the same door we’d been through earlier. I glanced at Cass, and he gave me a slight nod, and we left the table and followed them through the door.

Keeping back, we headed down the corridor, only to see the men disappear through the door at the very end—the door with the beefy security guy now scowling at me and Cass.

“What do we do?” Cass hissed through the side of his mouth.

“Wing it” was my reply, and we strode towards the door.

THIRTY

I’d been working on my assignment for the past hour and a half, the need to finish my semester with good grades driving me to carry on, even though it was the last thing I felt like doing. It was getting late, and I still hadn’t heard anything from any of the Four. I knew, or I hoped, at least, that West would message me with an update, even if Caiden didn’t want to hear from me.

Kinslee wandered in, dressed in fleecy pyjamas and fluffy slippers, and came to a stop next to me, leaning on my desk. “How are you still going? It’s so late.”

“I just want to get this finished before I turn my computer off.”

“Fair enough.” She picked up the little crystal ball with a 3D model of the solar system suspended inside, that I kept on my desk. “This is cute. What is it?”

I glanced up, a sad smile on my face. “That was my dad’s. It’s the solar system. He used it as a paperweight in his office.”

“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful.” She bit her lip, placing the crystal ball carefully back down.

“It’s okay. I like to talk about him. I don’t have anyone to talk to about him, really.”

“I’m always happy to listen, if you want to talk.” Squeezing my shoulder, she leaned across my desk to the wall. “Were these your dad’s, too?” She pointed at the collection of star charts and constellations I’d tacked