King of Envy: Chapter 15

“You pulled it off!” Jordan slapped me on the shoulder. “Shit, I’m proud of you, man. This night is awesome.”

I made a non-committal noise in response. We had vastly different definitions of “awesome.”

It was Saturday, the night of the much-dreaded bachelor party. Jordan was having the time of his life, and I would rather throw myself into a pool of battery acid. It would be a miracle if I got through the night without murdering someone.

While Jordan went to get another round of shots, I stuck by my spot in the corner. We were only at stop number two of my meticulously planned itinerary, and I couldn’t stop checking my watch. At least four more hours of fuckery before the night ended.

Christ. Someone shoot me already.

The only bright spot of the night was how happy and easy to please Jordan was. Thinking about him and Ayana together made my gut churn, but as his friend, I really was glad he was enjoying himself.

He’d explicitly stated he didn’t want anything extravagant for the bachelor party—no travel, no ridiculous activities or performances—so I’d stuck to the tried-and-true trifecta of music, alcohol, and women.

Our first stop had been the VIP room of the Vault, which Xavier had reserved just for us. Top-shelf liquor and a famous DJ from Iceland devolved into the sticky floors and tacky neon lights crowding our current dive bar location.

For someone who’d grown up surrounded by luxury, Jordan had a soft spot for the hole-in-the-walls. The Soggy Bottom was right up his alley, though the same couldn’t be said for everyone in the bachelor party.

“What an…interesting bar.” Kai Young grimaced as a scantily clad brunette tilted her head back to guzzle beer from a funnel. Beside her, a pair of fratty-looking guys bumped chests and hollered like imbecilic gorillas. “How did you find this place again?”

He looked more bemused than anything else, but out of all the attendees, the aristocratic British media tycoon was the least likely to willingly step foot in this establishment.

I shrugged, too irritated by the noise, the people, and the night in general to respond.

There were eight of us in total—me, Xavier, Jordan, his friend Will from boarding school, his cousin Topher, and a handful of business associates/close acquaintances. In New York society, even personal events like bachelor parties and weddings were little more than excuses for networking.

As the CEO of a media empire, whose fashion publications counted Jacob Ford as a major advertiser, Kai belonged in the networking category. So did Dante Russo, the CEO of a luxury goods conglomerate.

The eighth and final member of our group was the only one who straddled the line between friend and acquaintance. Killian Katrakis was a close family friend of the Fords, which was why he’d agreed to let them host the wedding at his famous ancestral estate in Ireland. However, he was eight years older than Jordan, and the two rarely hung out except at family functions.

While Kai left to join Jordan at the bar, I tossed back a glass of straight vodka. The cheap alcohol burned a fiery path down my throat.

We had three more stops after this—two bars and the gentlemen’s club at Valhalla. It was leagues above the Vermilion Lounge in terms of class and quality, but that wasn’t why I’d added it to our itinerary.

I wanted to see what Jordan would do when faced with temptation—if he would stay loyal, or if he would stray. If he’d stay respectful or let his eyes and hands wander beyond what was acceptable.

It was manipulative of me, but I’d never claimed to be a fucking saint.

“What crawled up your ass and died?”

I ignored Dante as he came up beside me. Besides running the Russo Group, he was also next in line to take over Valhalla’s managing committee. We’d worked closely for months to prepare for the transition, so I was more familiar with him than many of the other attendees.

That didn’t mean I wanted to talk. I hated parties, and I hated small talk.

Dante followed my gaze to where Jordan was laughing with Xavier and Topher. “The groom seems to be having a good time. Any reason why you’re looking at him like you want to kill him?”

I pivoted my glare to the Italian and typed out a response on my phone.

Never mind that Jordan had invited him. He didn’t have to accept.

Dante’s smirk fell as he returned my glare. “I should,” he grumbled. “But Josie’s with her grandmother, and Vivian is having a girls’ night.” He appeared unreasonably disappointed about being separated from his family for the night.

I didn’t get it. Who wouldn’t want a break from a screaming baby?

I returned my attention to the bar. In less than two months, Jordan and Ayana would be married.

She would move into his house. Sleep in his bed. Wake up next to him every morning and kiss him sweetly every night.

One day, they’d have children too, and they would be tied together forever, even if they divorced.

The vodka churned in my gut. I slammed my empty glass on a nearby table so hard I heard a small crack.

Dante’s eyebrows rose. He wisely kept quiet, but his speculative gaze remained on me as Jordan and the rest of the party joined us.

“You look like you could use another drink.” Jordan handed me another vodka. His face had flushed crimson, a sure sign he was drunk. “C’mon, loosen up a little! This is a great night.”

I took the drink and downed it in one gulp.

Ayana’s bachelorette was tonight too. What were they doing? Were they also at a bar, or were they at a strip club?

A mental image of some oiled-up male dancer grinding against her flashed through my head. My hand curled, itching to reach into my mind and pull the imaginary asshole off her.

Will grimaced. “I can’t believe you drink vodka straight. That’s…” He trailed off when I looked at him. “Cool,” he said hastily. “Super cool.”

“How are you feeling about the wedding?” Kai asked Jordan. “The big day is coming up soon.”

A shadow crossed Jordan’s face. “I’m excited, but I wish the circumstances were different,” he said. “At least my grandmother will get to celebrate with us.”

Everyone made an obligatory noise of sympathy for the ailing Ford matriarch.

“It’ll be nice to get the ceremony out of the way so you can enjoy the reception,” Killian drawled. The electronics and telecommunications titan lounged against a nearby railing, drawing the attention of several bachelorette parties nearby. “My staff is thrilled that they can finally plan a wedding at Westford, considering they’ve given up hope on me.”

Westford was his family’s castle in County Mayo, and Killian was an infamous bachelor who’d publicly vowed never to marry. That didn’t stop every other woman in Manhattan from trying to lock him down—a feat that had proved useless over the years.

“Any advice from the married men in the group?” Topher clapped a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “He’s never had a long-term relationship before Ayana. We need to prepare him before he makes a fatal marital mistake. I’m not flying all the way to Ireland for the reception so he can get divorced a month later.”

Laughter and chuckles all around.

A quick divorce. Now there was a thought. I took solace in the possibility, no matter how remote it seemed.

“Hey, have a little more faith in me,” Jordan protested. “Ayana and I get along great. We’ve never even fought.”

“That’s because you’ve never been married yet,” Topher countered.

“My advice: don’t listen to anyone who says you have to get along with your in-laws,” Dante said. “The less you see them, the better. In-laws are assholes.”

“No,” Kai corrected. “Your in-laws are assholes. Mine are lovely.”

More laughter as Dante scowled at his friend.

His wife Vivian was on notoriously rocky terms with her father. He was the one who’d arranged her marriage to Dante. Though Dante and Vivian’s relationship had worked out, there were whispers that Francis Lau had pulled some underhanded maneuvers before the wedding that landed him on both his daughter and son-in-law’s eternal shit list.

“I like Ayana’s parents, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Jordan said. “They’re so nice, and they make the best food.”

Dante opened his mouth, but Kai cut him off. “Don’t listen to Russo. He doesn’t know how to let go of a grudge,” he said. “My advice is to listen, be patient, and never, ever rearrange your wife’s books without permission.” Kai frowned. “You would think alphabetical order by title makes sense, but apparently, it’s not ‘aesthetically pleasing.’”

“Why would you rearrange her books?” Xavier looked appalled. “That’s rule number one of being in a relationship, married or not. Don’t touch their shit. If I tried to reorganize Sloane’s stuff, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d be dead.”

“She was on deadline, and I was trying to be helpful,” Kai said defensively.

“Well, it was a stupid move.” Xavier turned to Jordan. “I’m not married, but personally, I think the key to a happy marriage is sex every day. Sometimes twice a day.”

My teeth ground together. Fucking Xavier. I couldn’t kill him, but I sure as hell could think about it.

“Jesus.” Topher groaned. “No one has any actual practical advice? J, you’re so cooked.”

“Look on the bright side.” Killian grinned at an increasingly nervous-looking Jordan. “If you get divorced, you can get tips from Davenport on how to win her back. It worked for him.”

“Where is he anyway?” Xavier asked. “He’s in town.”

“It’s his old wedding anniversary.” Dante smirked. “You can bet he’s not missing that celebration again.”

Dominic Davenport was a powerful Wall Street financier whose wife divorced him two years ago. They’d remarried less than a year later. I wasn’t privy to the details of their divorce and reconciliation, but based on Dante’s dig, I assumed it had to do with their anniversary.

I really didn’t give a shit. I had enough problems of my own without taking on other people’s.

While the rest of the group continued to tease Jordan about marital life, I swept my eyes across the bar.

My team was still coming up empty in our search for the mystery Brother. I wasn’t worried enough about a Brotherhood hit to double down on security for the night—I was with some of the most powerful men in the city, and the organization wouldn’t want a public mess—but I had to stay alert.

The clock was ticking. Sooner or later, the Brotherhood would make a move again. My job was to find them, neutralize them, and figure out what the hell they wanted before that day came.

Topher left to use the restroom—at least, he tried. He bumped into one of the other patrons along the way, and the air seemed to quiet as the man turned and glared down at him.

“You got a problem?” he growled. He was nearly as tall as me and twice as wide, with arms that could double as tree trunks and a grizzly beard that covered half his face.

“No problem.” Topher held his hands up. “I was just trying to get by.”

“Yeah? Well, you made me spill my drink.” The man slammed his glass on the closest tabletop. His dilated pupils and the stench of alcohol on his breath told me he was wasted. “You think you can just walk around and knock into people because you want to ‘get by?’”

Jordan’s cousin looked like a deer caught in headlights. He was a trust fund baby who was half the size of Grizzly; a fight between them could only go one way.

“It was an accident, but I can see why you’re upset.” Kai stepped in, ever the voice of reason. “How about we buy you a new drink and call it even?”

Grizzly sneered. “How about no?”

He shoved Kai. Hard.

Kai glanced down at where wet handprints marred his previously immaculate shirt. When he looked up again, his face had hardened into stone. “That,” he said, “was a mistake.”

What happened next escalated so quickly no one could’ve provided an accurate account if they’d tried.

Grizzly swung at Kai, who dodged his drunken attempt and hit the other man somewhere that made him double over. One of Grizzly’s friends jumped into the fray only for Dante to haul him back before they could make it a two-on-one fight. The rest was a blur.

More people joined the growing brawl. A crowd formed, jeers erupted, and I caught sight of the bar’s bouncer shoving his way through the crowd to get to the culprits.

If it had been any other night, we might’ve been able to salvage it with a few bruised jaws and egos.

Unfortunately, I was already on edge, and when one of Grizzly’s other friends tried to bait me, something inside me snapped.

“Why are you just standing there? Too scared to fight?” he taunted. His gaze fell on my scars. “You’d think an ugly motherfucker like you would⁠—”

I grabbed him by the neck of his shirt and threw him against the railing. The cheap wood splintered from the impact, and his howl of pain was so loud even the other brawlers stopped to stare.

Red tinted my vision. A familiar buzz filled my ears as I stalked toward the asshole.

I made it halfway before someone grabbed me from behind. They locked their forearm across my throat, trying to restrain me, but I easily tossed them off. The guy went flying into a table of half-empty glasses. The table crashed to the ground, sending little shards flying everywhere.

The music stopped as screams filled the bar. The bouncer finally made it to the center of the melee, but when he tried to break up the fight between the bachelor party and Grizzly’s friends, someone socked him in the eye.

And that was when everything really went to hell.