averycrxss:
theycallhimraymond.
noahxgreyheart.
Noah didn’t know what the hell he’d walked in on but it was far too much of a mess for him to turn his back now, the Irish were public enemy number one and Raymond Holloway was right up there with Alexander fucking Barrett. Noah had been there the night Tatiana had been brought home, he knew how pissed Barrett and his men were that their stolen princess had been rightfully retrieved and if not for the fact that they were in the middle of a civilian party he would have smeared it right in Holloway’s furry fucking face. The underboss clearly had some sort of business going on with young Sophia Wren, as well as the piece of tail at his side, and Noah would have been more than happy to relieve him of the former if it meant pissing him off that much more. Getting to go home with a parisian goddess was just a bonus on top of it all. He’d never seen Sophia like this before, worked up and upset instead of demure and alluring, and the part of him that actually cared for her wondered what the hell a mangy dog like Holloway had managed to do to get himself up and under her milky skin. It had to have had something to do with the petite brunette at his side, though, that much Noah could tell. Sophia was the sort of woman that men went to war for, the ones that poets and artists wrote onto parchment and painted onto canvas with her as their muse, but even she was prone to petty bouts of jealousy.
Speaking of the brunette … oy. Unlike Noah, she hadn’t asked to be dragged into the lovers’ quarrel in front of him, he had to bite back a bark of a laugh at the nervous smile she tossed his way. She was cute, again he didn’t know what the hell she could have seen in an underboss who reeked of cheap booze and unwashed clothes, Noah would have gladly offered her a way out as well if she wanted one. But Sophia was leaning into him so sweetly, tucking that tight little body flush up against him as if she belonged there, and Raymond was stepping forward with his war face on. Noah’s eyes narrowed when his Russian alliance was brought into play, so the prick was going to play dirty, was that it? Outing him right in the middle of a fucking birthday party? “Seems you’ve had too much to drink yet again, Holloway, is that why these two lovely ladies are flocking over you? To keep you from toppling down on your ass?” he asked with an arch of his brow, smoothly stepping over any and all opportunities for either one of the girls to ask what he had meant by Russian mail order brides. He allowed his hand to trail scandalously low on the delicate arch of Sophia’s back, down to the swell of her ass so that he could give it a firm squeeze with his roughened fingers, he couldn’t tell if Holloway actually gave a damn about the young blonde or if she was the only one upset between the two of them but either way, it was hard to keep his hands off of her when she was pressed so fucking close up against him.
And oh, the brunette was brave, both of Noah’s brows raised even higher when she stepped forward and attempted to intervene, perhaps that’s why Holloway had asked her as his date. “Sorry, darling, but your escort for the evening causes a scene no matter where he goes due to being a rowdy fucking drunk, he just can’t help himself — he’s like a mangy dog constantly chasing after a bone,” Noah clipped out smoothly, flexing the hand that wasn’t feeling up Sophia just in case he needed to ready his knuckles for a good bloodying. It was the blonde tucked securely up against him who spoke next however, the bodyguard was pleased as punch with what she had to say to the underboss … and even more so with her luscious little tits she then pressed into his side. “I think we both know that I could never say no to you, sweetheart,” he murmured lowly to Sophia when she asked so nicely for him to indulge her, he used the strong hand on her ass to force her even more closely up against his muscular frame, if they were naked he might as well have been inside of her. “Just for you, I’ll let Holloway walk away without deepthroating the barrel of his own gun, how does that sound? And as for his sweet little friend — “ He nodded towards the brunette again, the look in his steely blue eyes could only have been described as wicked. “ — she’s welcome to join us as well. After all, you’ve always enjoyed the playdates daddy set up for you in the past, haven’t you?”
See each other? Was that the best possible thing he could’ve come up with? Raymond felt as if he was burrowing deeper and deeper into a grave of his own making. Hell, Sophia’s appearance might as well have been a nail in his coffin. His chest tightened at the sound of how… how upset she was. He could barley look at her – had to keep his eyes from flickering away from Noah’s ugly fucking face. Because if Ray did look at Sophia, he swore that would hurt him more than she was hurting now. If she was hurting. Was she even hurting? Or was this just a show like she put on at the Cathouse? There was a ghost in the back of his mind – which howled at him – that they weren’t even anything to each other. That there wasn’t any way in hell she had the right to be upset with him. It was screaming, loudly. But not loud enough that he didn’t feel her words like a jagged piece of glass right through his ribs.
He felt Avery shift beside him, and immediately his stomach rolled as he nearly swore out loud. She was moving to stand in the middle of the group, her hold on him like a vice grip. The more time passed, the more nails pounded into his lid and the quicker the grave inscriber was ticking away at the words here lies Raymond, biggest idiot in the city. Avery had a point and god fucking damnit, this was the last thing he’d wanted to get her involved in. Unlike Sophia (who was in the same life style he was, what with being in the Irish Mob) Raymond had only the vaguest of inklings that the life Avert lived — the selling of her body, being an escort — hadn’t exactly been what she’d been after in life. He didn’t want to make assumptions, but in his experience, it a life goal and something you planned to retire on. All he wanted for her was to spend a decent, care free night with him. They didn’t even need to fuck. Ray wasn’t as cruel with women as he let on — hell, Sophia was proof of that. Raymond had seen Avery again and again because he was interested in her as a person, as something other than a pair of legs. Sure, she was a nice fuck. But there was a potential for friendship between them. That was down the drain now if it hadn’t been the minute Sophia showed up, and… and fuck! The bastard in front of him needed to close his fucking mouth before he lost more than a few teeth.
And Cross – the last thing she needed to do – was try to get in the middle of something that was clearly becoming much more than a… lovers quarrel? No, Noah and Raymond had a whole other set of personal issues that were clearly rearing their heads here. Despite the fact that both she and Sophia try as they might to diffuse the now searing tension, Ray wrapped his arm tightly around Avery’s waist – what it meant, even sure.
“Oh, I’m gonna cause a fucking scene. Why don’t you stick around, Greyheart? Bet a bitch boy like you is really wonderin’ what a real dog fight is like. Most of us don’t sit around licking our balls all fucking day. Aye, wait. Valentina already neutered you, didn’t he?” His eyes flickered dangerously, and part of him nearly leaped over Avery and Sophia to slam his fist directly into Noah’s ugly nose. “Don’t you have anything better to do than sexually harass women and stick your ass where it doesn’t belong, Laika? Don’t bring Cross into this. And Sophia – ” Can do whatever the hell she wants. That was what he’d wanted to say, but as his hazel eyes slide to Avery’s face, to Noah’s, and back to hers, a very different sentence left his lips. It was gruff. Hushed, like the words almost pained him to say. “Is that what you want?”
He starred at her, but it was like he was looking at her for the first time all over again. There was a moment where he looked as pained as his words sounded. But then it was gone, clouding in with a thunder storm of rage and anger. Who the fuck was she to throw a fit about him on a date with another girl? That’s what she did for a living. She slept around, she got paid for it — and never had they said they were anything else but a pair of fuck buddies who liked to spend a little extra time together. Let her run off with him. He didn’t fucking care – not if she was going to spend her time with Russian garbage.
Raymond didn’t wait for her answer, already convincing himself that was exactly what Sophia wanted. With an almost growl, Ray turned, half lifting Avery out of the circle they had formed. He practically carried her past their drinks – stopping to scoop his up and knock back the double in a single go – only setting her down when he was nearly trembling from the pent up anger bubbling through him. Pushing his hand through his thick hair, he gave her a long look, his voice bitter.
“Ain’t an easy way to explain any of that.”
Oh boy. This was going from worse to worst real quick. Avery, for a second, glanced around the room, almost desperate for Audric to see what was happening. No dice, though, she couldn’t see him anywhere in the crowd. As the other male addressed her, Avery knew no amount of intervention could really stop this – though that girl seemed to have the smart idea. Separate them. Get them away from each other before they could start a brawl in the middle of the bar. All things considered, though, Avery really had to give Sophia credit for handling this all so well.
She didn’t know exactly what the relationship between Raymond and Sophia was other than warranting the it’s complicated option on Facebook, but she had been in situations where the when her client was caught cheating, the partner went after her. There was the time she was chased out of a brownstone, china and other porcelain flying after her like it was her fault her husband had hired her for the evening. She was just doing her fucking job. Then again, this wasn’t a job. This was a date. Raymond asked her here as a date, not as an escort. Oh… That made her feel a little guilty. Even with that fact, however, Sophia didn’t seem too concerned with Avery, keeping the claws in as she pressed herself against the man and told him to indulge her – Did that man just suggest a threesome? He sure did – she knew that wicked look in his eye. She’d been around enough men like that to know he wasn’t kidding. Not that threesomes were bad, she usually enjoyed them, but why in the world did he have to add fuel to the fire.
“In what world was that a smart thing to say?!” Avery burst, probably louder than she should have, exasperated as Raymond, clearly unhappy that she was brought into this shit, roared and snarled after him.
Hey, she wasn’t too happy to be involved in this shit either. She didn’t like being considered a homewrecker or the other woman. Avery was, in general, quite apathetic about what she did. She didn’t care because it was easy to mold herself into whatever her client wanted – sweet girl, dirty girl, whatever. She was good at it, and she made a lot of money doing it. Enough to keep her comfortable in Kat’s house, anyway. The only time she ever felt filthy about it was when she was that person – that other woman. That whore that broke the camel’s back and ruined a happy relationship. Of course, it was clear that whatever Raymond and Sophia had wasn’t exactly a house with a picket fence and a dog, but it still didn’t sit well with her. And actually, now that she was really thinking about it, this was embarrassing. This was really embarrassing – the kind of embarrassing that made your insides curl and eyes water – except she wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t do that. The first date she’d been on that someone wasn’t paying her, and she was still the gross other girl that ruined everything.
Avery’s cheeks burned as watched the pain on Raymond’s face as he asked if that’s what Sophia’s wanted, her own face impassive and unrevealing as she stayed stuck to Raymond’s side. Observant as always, Avery thought, flatly. It’s what made her a good informant for the Shadow Mob in the first place. It quickly twisted into a roaring anger that made her flinch, and she was quickly taken away – literally taken away. Raymond practically lifted her away, halfway carrying her as she clutched onto him tightly because if she didn’t she was going to end up on her ass for not being able to keep up.
He didn’t see fit to let her go until he chugged his drink and told her there was no easy way to explain what the fuck that mess just was. Avery knew she was going to be angry later, but right now her mess of feelings in her brain had really just left her numb. Besides, with the large, angry trembling man in front of her… Not really time to focus on herself. Her dark eyes focused on him and she stared at him silently for a moment.
“No kidding,” Avery breathed. She glanced around – still no sign of Audric – before she let out a sigh and reached for him, a hand resting on his arm. Nope, this was something she was going to have to deal with herself.
“Here’s what we’re going to do about this,” Avery said, a finality in her voice. “I don’t know what the fuck that just was, Ray, and I’m not sure I want to know.” The words Russian mail order brides and Valentina flew threw her brain, suddenly, she wondered if Greyheart and Raymond’s beef with eachother was more than just about that girl. She shook it off. Not important. “But I would really rather not get in the middle of a fist fight tonight, I’m not wearing the shoes for it.” A small attempt at humor. “We are going to get another drink at the bar, and then we are going to go far, far away from them so neither of you get arrested for assault, tonight.” We. Because she was stupid and wasn’t going to leave him here to go charging after Greyheart and that girl. Avery examined his face, remembering the pain that flashed across his face before it was replaced with anger. Her features softened slightly, despite herself.
“Are you okay?”
Sophia had never been one for confrontation - she was gentle by nature, despite her painful upbringing, and she had always been more eager to please than to seek out any form of conflict. How many nights had she spent with Raymond in the past, bandaging his bloodied knuckles and tending to any number of scrapes and bruises he had gathered from his role as the Irish underboss? How many times had she just barely resisted the urge to beg and plead with him to stop putting himself in so much danger? He was loyal to the very end, of course, to Alexander Barrett, and she knew that there was no better man than him for the position of second-in-command, but she could still remember the sheer amount of times she had laid awake in bed waiting for him to come home, wide-eyed and terrified that it would be a foot soldier instead that came to the door and told her that Raymond had been killed in action. Now, though, she was thoroughly involved in a very different form of combat, one that was soon to turn violent if Noah Greymark had anything to do with it. She felt awful for the girl at Raymond’s side - none of this was at all her fault, and Sophia could only assume that this hadn’t been what she had in mind when she had been invited to attend as his date. His date. When had Raymond ever taken her anywhere? When had he ever wanted to proudly show her off on one of his big, tattooed arms?
When had anyone ever cared about her that much at all?
Whoever the girl was that Raymond had brought with him tonight, he was far more defensive over her than he was when it came to Sophia, and maybe that was why the young dancer found herself pressing the warmth of her body snugly into the reassuring weight of Noah’s side. She didn’t know why he was so protective over her - most men usually weren’t - but she was grateful for his presence, if only because it gave her something else to focus on. Raymond said her name, though, and despite how hurt she was - despite the fact that her heart felt as if it had been stabbed a thousand times over - Sophia found herself still stupidly lifting her head to look up at him with a mixture of hope and desperation. She wanted him to tell her to stay. She wanted him to say that she was his. He...he didn’t, though, and he would see it on her face that she was pained because of it; he’d see her delicate, fae-like features crumple and fall like a torn painting.
He didn’t give her any sort of time to answer his hushed question before he was grabbing at the pretty brunette like a caveman, all but tossing her over his shoulder and leaving her behind in favor of disappearing back into the crowd. In his wake, Sophia was left trembling and on the verge of tears, but...Noah was still there. Noah hadn’t left. She couldn’t break down and cry, not without prompting his concern, and so - maybe, just maybe, this was for the best. Maybe what she needed to do tonight was to finally forget about Raymond for once and for all. She could tell herself over and over again that he cared for her, that what they had meant something, but hadn’t everything that had just happened proved nothing but the exact opposite? She might have been so desperately in love with him that she felt it with each breath that she took, but if what he felt for the girl at his side was stronger than anything they had ever shared in all of the four years that they had been ‘together’ for, then...for the first time in her life, Sophia needed to do something solely for herself. For the first time in her life, Sophia needed to be selfish.
Blinking away the tears that had glossed over her seaglass-green eyes, Sophia shook her glimmering blonde head once, twice, three times, before looking up at Noah with what she hoped was a convincing enough smile. “Je suis désolé - you did not deserve to get caught up in that,” she said softly, quietly, and she reached up with a dainty hand to gently stroke the side of his face; he really was handsome, with his chiseled jaw and the rough stubble that lined it, and she couldn’t have brought to mind a better distraction if someone had paid her to do so. “S’il vous plait, why don’t we...go somewhere a little quieter? Somewhere that we can be alone?” There was no hiding the dulcet little purr that her voice had become; she angled her lush little frame so that it was pressed directly up against his harder and more toned one, arching her back just enough so that the pert swells of her breasts could rise up above the top of her dress and he could both feel and look down at them at the same time. “If you’d like, you can be my master tonight. My monsieur. How does that sound, mon ours? Would you sweep me off of my feet and press me up against the nearest wall until all I am capable of doing is moaning your name?”
