Page 151 of Arrow

“I think,” Frank said, voice measured, “that you’re testing a man who doesn’t know how to fail tests. And I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

I looked out the window, watching the city lights streak past. Frank had been with my family since before I was born. He’d carried me on his shoulders as a child, taught me how to shoot a gun when I was thirteen, and bandaged my wounds after my father’s worst rages. He knew me better than anyone.

“He knows more than you think,” I said, picking at a fleck of glitter on my wrist. “He’s always known.”

Frank’s eyes flickered to mine in the mirror. “Maybe. But there’s knowing, and then there’s seeing.”

I let that sink in. Arrow had seen me with Harley. He’d seen her fingers inside me, seen me come apart under her touch. The thought sent another illicit thrill through me. I shouldn’t have been excited by his rage, shouldn’t have craved the storm waiting for me back at the penthouse, but I did.

“He was with Svetlana Kovenski tonight,” I said, the name bitter on my tongue. “At The Raven.”

Frank didn’t deny it. “Business.”

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” I laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet car. “Tell me, Frank, how many of his ‘business associates’ has he fucked before?”

“You know it’s not my place to answer that,” he said, voice steady.

“Because the answer is all of them,” I finished for him.

Frank sighed, his massive shoulders rising and falling. “You Virellis and Romanovs. You think love and war are the same thing.”

“Aren’t they?” I asked, genuinely curious.

He didn't answer, just kept driving through the sleeping city.

As we neared the penthouse, I felt my heart begin to race, adrenaline flooding my system, making me light-headed with anticipation. When the car pulled up to the curb, I hesitated, my hand on the door.

“I won’t be far,” Frank said.

The doorman averted his eyes when I walked through the lobby, a sure sign that Arrow was in a mood. The elevator ride to the penthouse felt eternal, each floor ticking by excruciatingly slowly. When the doors finally slid open, I stepped into the darkness. The penthouse was silent, but I could feel him there, watching from the shadows, his rage a physical presence in the room.

“Are you going to hide all night?” I called out, dropping my bag on the floor with deliberate casualness.

No response.

I moved deeper into the kitchen. Arrow sat in the armchair by the window, still wearing his suit from earlier, sans jacket, one leg crossed over the other. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were anything but—they burned into me like lasers. On the table beside him sat my gold chain, coiled like a snake.

“Have a nice night?”

His voice was so controlled that it made my skin crawl. This wasn’t the explosive rage I’d expected—this was something worse. Something cold and calculated.

I stood my ground, refusing to cower. “Actually, I did. Quite nice.”

He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly. “You reek of her.”

“Good.” I tossed my hair back defiantly. “At least I’m honest about who I fuck.”

Arrow’s jaw tightened, the only visible sign that my barb had landed. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Is that what this is about? Svetlana?”

“Don’t say her name like I should know who she is,” I spat. “Like she matters.”

“She doesn’t.” His voice remained eerily calm. “But clearly you think she does.”

I laughed, the sound brittle in the tense air between us. “What I think is that you’re a hypocrite. Running around with your ex while I’m supposed to sit here like a good little wife-to-be.”

Arrow stood then, his movements fluid and predatory. I fought the urge to step back as he approached, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his body, he reached out and touched my neck where his chain used to be. The lack of the metal against my skin felt like a betrayal more intimate than what I’d done with Harley.