Freya Arsov sits on top of a world of diamonds and sports cars. Her father is a billionaire, head of a world-renown company, her mother, an esteemed lawyer. She attends the most prestigious boarding school in England. She has four amazing best frien...
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AMELIE WATCHED FREYA CAREFULLY AS THEY walked away from where Matthew had parked his car, toward the large warehouse. Her friend gave no indication that she was in any way bothered by the sight of Matthew's gang headquarters, shoulders as relaxed as a summer breeze beside Matthew.
She wished she could share the same sentiments. Amelie was as tense as the crisp chill that breathed into the air, in wait for winter that was coming.
The last time either of them had been here was three weeks ago, and Freya had been nothing but a glassy-eyed shell.
Amelie had stopped by Cyan Hall before they'd left, to press a kiss to Karsyn's forehead, a gesture which had become normal now.
If only the Amelie Perrin from a month ago could see her now.
When he'd asked where she was off to, she said to London with Freya, to shop for outfits for Helena Chapman's eighteenth birthday party on Sunday, since it was a costume party. Then he'd asked if they needed the Porsche again to get there, but Amelie said no. At that, his eyes had darkened.
Amelie didn't say Matthew's name, hadn't mentioned that it was him taking them, yet Karsyn was smart enough to guess.
To her knowledge, Karsyn still hadn't confronted Matthew for the kidnapping incident, which made Amelie ten kinds of nervous just thinking about what that meant. Was he planning something? Should she be worried? Should Matthew be worried?
Freya certainly didn't seem too concerned about her big brother. Then again, she never was. Also, she and Matthew both had much bigger things to worry about.
As if to prove this point, upon opening the small side door to the warehouse, the three of them were greeted by a heavily tattooed young man who had a rifle strapped across his chest.
Amelie made a sound. Conversely, Freya shot him a lopsided grin, head cocking to the side. "Is that for me?" She asked playfully.
She knew that Freya had only asked the question for Amelie's benefit, to calm her alert nerves. It didn't really help. The firearm was still there, even as the tattooed young man smirked down at Freya in response, his electric blue eyes shining.
"I see you brought an unexpected friend, Lady Arsov," observed the boy, Freya's rarely used title falling from his lips jokingly. Amelie swore he smirked at her as his fingers played with the straps of the gun.
"Gray," said Matthew, shaking his head. "Don't."
Gray merely shrugged, stepping aside. "It isn't even loaded, mate."
