Kellan called Monday at noon. No hello, just an address.
Kellan: Grant's club on Dock Street. Seven o'clock. Wear the navy dress.
I stood on the sidewalk for a full minute. This was Grant's territory. Walking in felt like a dare.
Kellan: You're late.
The place smelled like old money and cigars. Grant loved it because everyone who mattered drank here.
Kellan: Two things. He loses his shit when something gets taken from him.
Kellan: And a rival out in public stings worse than a hundred private fights.
Lena: That's two things and a theory.
Kellan: It's not a theory. It's a fact I've watched my whole life.
We took the booth in the back corner. The one where you can see the whole room and the room can see you. Fuck his club.
Kellan: He'll see us in twenty minutes. Maybe ten.
Lena: And what do you get out of this?
Kellan: You keep asking that.
He slid a glass toward me. Bourbon, no ice.
Kellan: He'll call you a joke. Then he'll call me. Then he'll do something stupid. That's the plan.
Lena: That's your plan. Mine is simpler.
Lena: I want to see his face.
Kellan smiled like I'd said something smart.
Kellan: There she is.
His hand slid down my shoulder to my arm. Slow. Testing.
Kellan: If we're doing this, we do it right. He can't think it's pretend.
Lena: And how does he think it's real?
He answered with his mouth on my neck.
His teeth, then his tongue. My hand went to his thigh under the table.
Kellan: Say yes, Lena.
His hand slipped under the hem of my dress, up the inside of my thigh. I stopped breathing.
Lena: Yes.
It came out faster than I meant it to.
His hand went higher. So did mine, under his shirt, over the hot skin of his stomach.
I wanted to be someone who did this in a booth. So I was.
He kissed me. Full mouth, no hurry. I pulled him closer by his belt.
Kellan: Everyone in this room is watching us now.
Kellan: Including the bartender who calls Grant every night.
I should have been scared. I felt light instead. Giddy. Like I'd been holding my breath for years and finally let it out.
Lena: Good. Let the bastard hear it.
Then the front door opened. Grant walked in with Sloane on his arm.
He saw the booth. He saw Kellan's hand still under my dress. His face went white, then red.
He crossed the floor in eight strides. His jaw was tight enough to crack.
Grant: Lena. What the fuck is this.
I lifted my glass to him. Let him choke on it, the controlling bastard. I smiled with all my teeth.
Lena: Same rules, Grant. Remember?
His hand clamped down on Sloane's arm so hard she flinched. The whole room went quiet.