“They own the Clave?”
I didn’t know if Grimm had even heard me over the music when the one with the white hair and beard leaned forward offering a hand. “I’m Zeus… I own the Clave. The four families run it for me. Normally, I’m out of town. And you are?”
“Executive assistant to this one,” I replied, hitching my thumb in his direction with wide eyes.
Grimm’s unamused face told me he heard me, and I couldn’t help but bite down a smirk. He was too comfortable putting people in their place and having every one exactly where he wanted. He deserved me keeping him humble.
Before I could extend my hand over Grimm’s lap, he held his hand up. “You wanted boundaries.”
I knew where this was going. Oscar drank like it was a sport, and the first one to get trashed won a gold medal. Well, Oscar never lost.
He wouldn’t just be hard to handle, but he would be jealous if anyone paid any mind to me. And not the kind of jealous that got a sour attitude, he would start fights over a glance. Oscar also had a habit of touching everything he liked that saw.
Drunk amnesia that he had a girlfriend, really.
With wide eyes and a look that could melt faces off, I sat back, tense and trying not to think about what Grimm was like drunk. Maybe this was the worst of it. Maybe his cruelty was just sharpened.
The girl came back with the receipt, a pen, and his card, handing them to me. I was glad she learned from my tone earlier. “Just sign the top one. Bottom one is Grimm’s copy.”
She stood in front of me, waiting, when Grimm’s hands pulled her down sideways onto his lap as she giggled.
Rules only made for me. Interesting double standard.
Pushing the small tray with the pen and receipts, all I took was his heavy card and was now forced to look at his finger tracing her fishnet stockings on her thigh. He really was in his own element and not uncomfortable at all. It made me wonder what happened to him to make him this way.
I understood some kink. Everyone had those things they liked and couldn’t explain, but Grimm was cozy here—a kind of cozy with the darkness that made me feel bad for him.
Standing up, I announced, “Time to go, stud.”
Grimm was too busy whispering against the waitress’s ear to hear me. Zeus stood up, seeming completely sober, which was a huge turnaround from him laughing like a schoolboy in church when I came in. Crossing my arms, I waited for him to get up, when Zeus stopped at me. “How much do you know?”
His question made my face scrunch up in confusion as I stared back at him with no real way to answer.
I briefly looked over the tattoos that covered his arms and hands as he managed to get his leather jacket on, making sure his chest brushed my arm. “Before you fall down that rabbit hole, you might want to get some.”
I swore I even felt my lungs freeze up when he suggested I get answers. I had a taste of the truth and it was sour—a hard-coated in sour lemon that made my mouth water up and my eyes tear just a little. I wanted to be one of those people who could be okay with lies, be okay not knowing everything about everything, but I wasn’t. Sour or not, I would force myself to hold that sour candy in my mouth until I sucked up all the truth it could give.
“Grimm, can we go now?”
The girl linked her arm behind his head and spoke while looking at me, even though it was meant for him: “Babysitter said it’s time to go. Text me next time you wanna have fun.” Standing up from his lap, she turned to walk away from us, when Grimm slapped her ass, making her smile over her shoulder.
Okay, maybe that was the worst of it.
I wasn’t prepared to feel his weight lean into me with his heavy arm across my shoulders, slightly pulling my hair as we walked down the stairs. “This a normal weekend for you?” Scared of the answer, I kept my eyes forward, even when we walked outside and the chill of the night made me shiver.
“I don’t drink, remember? The sex stuff? Much worse, Abigail. That’s tame.”
Shaking with another chill shooting down my spine, I stood there, still watching Zeus bump fists with Grimm before they climbed into their car. They weren’t at all what I was expecting when Vic drove home how much Grimm needed to give a fuck. It made me wonder why he was so against it when they seemed like birds of a feather: twisted, dark, intimidating on the outside…
Without me asking, the valet next to me informed me Grimm had parked in the back, like he normally did, instead of making someone else do it. “Do you have his keys? I can pull it around, ma’am.”
Ma’am? I am no ma’am. I look like a fucking Victoria Secret model without the wings or accents they normally sport.
Tossing him the keys, I nodded and tried to stay grounded to the floor with Grimm now swaying slightly without realizing it. He was the worst kind of drunk: the silent and swaying type. It put me on edge, like he was going to throw up any minute, and I wasn't prepared for that. I was not the person you called when you needed to bury a body or to give you a ride to the ER because half your fingers were in an ice bucket.
I didn’t tolerate gore of any kind, including upchucking.
The car was, of course, matte black with shiny black flames that screamed he had money and didn’t care what he spent it on. The valet either took pity on me or was loyal to Grimm, and he helped with the passenger door, making sure Grimm went in unharmed. He wasn’t fat by any means. His muscles made him look even more intimidating, and his tattoos only helped to make him look even more fit standing probably four inches taller than me still at my 5 foot 8 inches.
Leaning over his body, I pulled the seatbelt over him anyways, feeling the guilt kick up, demanding that I should. He smelled like liquor, sex, and heartbreak; it was intoxicating. Trying not to linger too long, even if he wasn’t going to remember this, I rounded the car and sat in the deep driver’s seat so far away from the pedals I had to adjust it as close as it would go.
“You know, you’re pretty… for a prude,” he slurred his words at me as I tried to find the start button, since his key ring had no visible keys.
Fucking rich people problems when they drive spaceships that force people to find the magic button, which is not easily done if you come from any other class.
“What?” I snapped off more abruptly than I meant to. I had heard him fine, even distracted and taking everything he said at face value; I just wanted him to repeat it.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me, Miss Abigail.” He leaned back into the bucket seat to whisper, “You’re always listening to me… even when I don’t want you to.”
“I’m not a prude, for the record.”
“Make a left at the light,” he demanded before the car was even moving.
How drunk was he exactly?
It just started purring when I found the blue button almost under the steering wheel. Well, they sure did find a foolproof way of making sure these cars weren’t ever stolen.
“I know how to get to your house.”
“Hungry.” That was the exact amount of words I expected him to utilize. Short and to the point with no time to tiptoe around how that might make anyone else feel. I would feel pretty badass if that was my love language too: vacancy.
I obliged, hoping food would soak it all up and serve the Grimm I knew on a silver platter.