Chapter 7: The Yatch Club Gauntlet
218 Words
"The prawns are excellent today, Jace," Chief Okoro said, lifting a glass of vintage Bollinger.
I sat half a step behind Jace, my notebook balanced on my knee, my pen flying across the page. The smell of garlic, butter, and expensive wine was a form of torture. My head felt light, my vision swimming slightly in the afternoon heat of the deck.
"I'm sure they are," Jace replied cooly. She hadn't touched her food either, I realized. She was just playing with her salad, her eyes fixed on the creditors.
"Your girl looks like she's about to faint," another man laughed, gesturing to me. "The Vance family always was a bit fragile. Perhaps she needs a seat at the table?"
Jace’s fork hit the china with a sharp clink. The table went silent.
"Elena is exactly where she belongs," Jace said, her voice dropping to that dangerous, low register. "And she has more steel in her pinky finger than you have in your entire board. She is fasting today as an exercise in focus. Unless you'd like to join her?"
The man sputtered into his drink. Jace turned to me, her hand reaching under the table where no one could see, her fingers digging into my knee in a firm, grounding squeeze. Stay with me, the touch said.
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