fists of fury

Saying goodbye was always the hardest part; it wasn’t an eternal thing, parting with Tatiana, but it was sticky and difficult and full of such blinding sorrow and remorse that Alex felt nearly sick to his stomach. He made his way through the ballroom, after escorting Tatiana to safety and murmuring future plans to her, sending Declan along to make sure the Russian princess got home safely. He was a lion on the prowl, ready to burst from the cage that had been confining him all evening. They still didn’t have an inkling of where the diamonds were being kept, but Alex planned to fucking change that.

He collided into his Underboss nearly the same moment Raymond came barreling into him, wide-eyed and clearly distressed as he tugged Alex out of the limelight and towards the shadows of the part. The overwhelming scent of rust flooded his nostrils, as familiar as his laundry detergent or favorite cologne: blood. He blinked, stepping back to take sight of his Underboss; bruised and bloody, smears and splatter of red dotted the velvet pink suit he’d chosen to wear to the Golightly gala this evening. What in the fuck had happened while he’d been busy with Tatiana? He glanced around, but the rest of the party seemed relatively normal; a few scandalized party guests shot glances in their direction, but other than that, no fires to put out. No one seemed to be screaming at the sight of bodies piled up on the floor.

“Holloway, what the fuck happened to you?” he demanded, gesturing at Raymond’s clothing. He looked wild-eyed and almost feverish, clearly desperate to tell Alex something, and before the Captain could open his mouth and tell Raymond to calm down and just get on with it already, Raymond was shaking Alex by the shoulders (enough to give him a concussion, honestly, the man had fucking meatball-sized hands) and confessing that Tatiana was there. At the party. Tonight.

“I know, I just got done fucking her,” he said, prying Raymond’s fingers from his jacket. It was a statement that made light of their reunion, but he couldn’t risk to expose more than necessary in public; he knew Raymond would understand. He knew his Underboss would comprehend with a single glance what that meant to him. “Who else knows she’s here, Ray? Anyone aside from the Russians? If she gets into the wrong hands, it could be–” He trailed off, not letting himself complete the thought as he yanked his phone out of his pocket.

“I’m texting Declan. He’s supposed to be keeping an eye on her to make sure nothing funny happens. Valentina doesn’t know she came out here tonight–if he gets mad enough, his crazy ass father could rear its ugly head in that fickle nature of his.”

“We can talk about that later.” Raymond’s voice held none of it’s usual humor. Rather, it was almost vacant of it. Had this been any other night -- any other -- Ray would have quipped a joke about a blood stain on his clothing resembling an uncircumcised penis, or a perfect example of Alexander’s best brooding face. He might have even winked, and made some stupid sex joke about liking his women fucking crazy. Which, he did -- but that was completely beside the point. There were very few people in the world Raymond trusted more than Alexander. 

And Tatiana meant everything to him. Therefore, the little blonde had become a designated piece in Raymond’s life, too. 

“You -- you fucked her? Barrett,I get that you haven’t seen her in a hot fucking second, but couldn’t you have used that time to get her out of here? Back to Little Dublin? Shit, man.” There was the glimmer of panic there. The last thing -- the absolute last thing -- Ray wanted was for that tiny woman to get herself into something that would end her firecracker life. The Valentina brothers were here, too. If Russians were whispering about her appearance, there was no doubt it would circle back up to the dogs that barked at the top of the pile. 

Raymond only let go of his hold on Alexander when his fingers were wrenched away, and he looked over a thick shoulder at the ballroom behind him as his boss texted away on his phone. “Think it’s only them for now -- something about her running around with two other chicks --” 

sophiawrcn‌:

averycrxss‌:

Avery was a lot of things but first and foremost she was not a home wrecker. There was a time when she was physically chased out of the house because the accountant that hired her for the night’s wife came home and blamed her for him cheating on her - look, when that kind of thing happened (and it happened more often than one would think) it wasn’t her fault. She was just doing her job. But tonight… Well, her and Raymond had hit it off so well, he invited her here. As in a date, not as an escort - she even turned down a client that had wanted to hire her as her date because she didn’t remember the last time someone made her laugh as hard as Raymond did. The silly little birthday gala - the same ones Avery hated going to when she was a teenager - would be fun. Or it was supposed to be, at least. 

She had immediately tensed once she caught on to Sophia’s words because… well, if she was being honest, she was afraid that the little dainty girl was going to try to kick the shit out of her in the middle of the party. Avery wasn’t a big fan of attention in the middle of a big room. But Sophia didn’t look violent - but she wondered if she was clearly digging into Raymond pointedly, or if she was just innocent enough to not realize what her words meant… “My hair?” Avery echoed, nervously. “Oh! My hair -” It was a compliment. Okay, she could roll with compliments. “Thank you! You look really pretty too - Oh no.” She didn’t mean to say it out loud with Noah approached, but she soon realized that Sophia probably wasn’t going to be the one to cause the issue here. She didn’t know the other man - small side note, what the fuck were these guys eating to be so fucking huge? That wasn’t fair. - but she just smiled weakly at Noah’s acknowledgement. Oh. That man didn’t like Raymond either - though she was at least relieved when she was excluded from his poor company comment, even though she didn’t think he was poor company.

Avery did feel Raymond tense, and that just made her tense further. The bartender had left both their drinks on the bar - she didn’t wuss out on champagne, she had whiskey on the rocks. She was going to be needing it after this conversation was over. Avery shot an apologetic look to Sophia - really, she felt bad. She didn’t know what their relationship was but she definitely wasn’t a home wrecker. 

Clearly. 

Oh god, was she a home wrecker?

Nope - focus. Not the point. She can realign her moral compass later. More important things to worry about - like mail order Russian bride. What the fuck did that mean, wasn’t he British? Oh god, they were straight going to try to fucking kill each other, weren’t they? She automatically tightened her grip on Raymond, like he wouldn’t be able to throw her like a ragdoll anyway. Her eyes briefly roamed the party room. Audric. Audric help. Nope, she couldn’t even see him.

“Alright, alright -” Avery cut in, her voice a little higher than usual because she was a little more stressed than usual. She wondered if she had high blood pressure - with the amount of times she’s been stressed this week alone, she should get that checked out. 

“Come on, guys. This is a little unnecessary, don’t you think?” Her gaze flickered nervously. “Why don’t we all just take a breath…. And take a break, okay?” Avery played the dangerous move, gently shifting forward so she could try to defuse whatever the hell was happening before one of them lunged at the other. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene.” 

Inwardly, Sophia knew that she had no real reason to be so upset with Raymond. He had never made any sort of promises to her, and she had always known that she wasn’t his one and only - likewise, due to the nature of her job, she had her own clients whose needs she tended to on a regular basis. She was a high-end courtesan, built for giving and receiving pleasure in all shapes, forms, and sizes, but…aside from Raymond, she had never known true love. Adonis was her guardian, all things considered, and he had raised her from a young age to become the woman she was today, but how often did he make time for her now that she was settled into New York City? The Irish mafia had become her home, and Raymond had come to mean the absolute world to her. He was the only man that she slept with outside of the scope of her job, the only man that she ever wanted to come home to at the end of the day, whereas he…well, sometimes Sophia worried that he forgot about her the same way Adonis so often did. Now, as she realized that the very gala she had been hoping to surprise him at he had chosen to attend with a woman she had never so much as heard him mention before, she realized that was exactly what this was. She was - disposable. Not just to the men she worked for, but to the one that she loved as well.

She felt awful for the poor girl that he was with, though, and hoped desperately that she understood her anger wasn’t directed towards her in the slightest. Sophia might not have had very many female friends of her own (ones that she didn’t sleep with, anyway), but she had always felt a sort of kinship towards other girls her age, and a longing to be close to them for more reasons than just sex. She seemed lovely, too - exceptionally pretty and not at all deserving of being caught in Sophia and Raymond’s crosshairs. “Oh? Oui? We see each other, is that correct, Monsieur Holloway?” Her voice came out small and shaky but tremulous nevertheless as she looked up at the handsome, bestial underboss; she wondered if he had even noticed the glimmering gold dress she had worn just for him, the way that it dipped low at the bodice to reveal the creamy expanse of her decollete and supple breasts. Even her La Perla lingerie beneath it had been picked out especially for him. “Because I don’t recall having seen very much of you at all as of late, come to think of it. Non - you have been making time for friends instead.” He was fumbling over his words, and there was no amount of liquor in the world that could have made him do that - no, this was something else entirely. He felt trapped.

Fully prepared to apologize to the woman at his side in favor of turning on her heel and leaving, Sophia parted her rosebud lips to do just that, but then - suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, yet another impressively-muscular gentleman was stepping into the fray, and the young courtesan blinked upwards in surprise as none other than Noah Greymark slid in alongside her. One of his strong, powerful arms wrapped around her tiny waist, and Sophia let out a startled little sound in response. They were well acquainted with each other, of course - he was a British businessman that visited her whenever his work brought him to the Big Apple. “Monsieur Greyheart!” she exclaimed breathlessly, unable to do much else as he very quickly confronted Raymond instead; the two men seemed to know one another, and…wait. Russian mail order bride? That made absolutely no sense to Sophia, but before she could do anything more than furrow her brows together in confusion, Raymond’s date for the evening was stepping forward in an attempt to diffuse the quickly-mounting tension between the two men. 

“Oui - the woman with the lovely hair is correct. There is no need for any such nonsense, and we certainly aren’t on the verge of causing a scene.” As measured and demure as she was attempting to keep her tone, her voice still came out in a quivering rush, and she found herself pressing closer up against Noah because of it. He was warm, sturdy, and exactly what she needed right now - a distraction from her love who hadn’t so much as looked at her since she had approached him and his date. Daintily, she straightened and adjusted her shoulders before looking up at Noah, her tone softening as she said, “You’ve come a long way from out of town again, haven’t you? S’il vous plait, why don’t we…find somewhere a little more private to catch up. I can assure you, there isn’t any sort of issue here that you need to tend to.” One elegant, neatly-manicured hand reached upwards to stroke at the Britishman’s strong jawline and through his beard, and she arched her back so that the almost-visible swells of her pert breasts could press indecently into the side of his body. “Would that be alright, monsieur? Would you indulge me?” And take her far enough away from Raymond that just maybe, for one night, she would be able to stop herself from missing him. 

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.”

Raymond had to do a double take -- but as it always did when Nadya was in the room (when she wasn’t trying to drag him away from his booze) a side ways smile spread beneath his beard. He had slipped away for just a moment before leading Avery into the party while she used the restroom, and had spotted the arms dealer. Well, not on purpose. He’d been looking out for her, yes -- but hadn’t expected her to be wearing that. 

“Sorry. Who are you, and what have you done with Kingsley? Because fuck, there’s no way that’s you.”

Ray’s jaw was throbbing painfully. Almost panicked, a hard thud, thud, thud, against his ribcage in time with his racing heart. After the events of the night -- a whirl wind of women and punches and blood -- he was surprised that this was the thing that he’d honed in on. But, it wasn’t as if Raymond had ever needed to prove his loyalty to Alexander Barrett. He was his boss, his friend, his brother. As much as he loved Sophia, and the guilt that ate away at him for what he’d gotten Avery into, he needed to see Alex. He needed to see him now.

The underboss pink velvet suit was in disarray, and several party goers audible gasped as he streaked past them in heavy movements. There was blood on his clothing -- his shirt, his knuckles. For people who knew him, it wasn’t anything new. But for the guests, it was a shock to see such a man so dead set on his path and obviously rising from... something. There wasn’t time to think about it. Where the fuck was he?

“Barrett!” He barked, his eyes almost wild as he grabbed his boss by the shoulder and practically yanked him into a secluded corner before he could step back into the dancing, the drinking. Raymond wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to hear her name, but he had. He knew the name as clear as day -- had even come to love her like family, despite originally thinking her no more than a gambling chip to make a pretty penny off of. Even after, she’d just been a piece of ass on the dance floor -- until he’d seen his brother look at her. Really, truly, look at her -- as if that single woman made his world spin. From that moment, he’d sworn he’d protect her. For the sake of his brother, if not for his own selfish pleasure in being able to see Alexander Barrett in love. And she’d been taken from them -- the tiny woman who would’ve without a doubt been in their lives forever. Who had become Alex’s purpose in the fucked up world they were apart of, and who’s absence had broken him in ways Raymond Holloway never wanted to see again. 

Raymond released his grip on his shoulder, his sharpening in a way that was very rare. Gone was the man who wanted nothing more than to drink and fuck. In his place? The man who countless people across the world had come to fear. A serious Raymond was not a Raymond to be trifled with. “She’s here.” But Alex didn’t seem surprised -- almost distracted. Ray took hold of his shoulders again, giving him a good, hard, shake. “Alexander. Did you hear me? She’s here -- Tatiana. Heard some Russians talking. She got out of the compound. She’s here.”

sophiawrcn‌:

averycrxss‌:

Avery was artfully good at making sure photographers didn’t get a decent shot of her face as Raymond lead her in. It wasn’t like it was going to be that big of a deal or anything, but the last thing she needed was her picture coming across somewhere where her family could find it. That anxiety had nearly been forgotten about until she ran into a Valentina a week or so ago, now she felt like she was eighteen, hiding while Audric helped her dodge any an all private investigation attempts her family had done to try to find her. Maybe, she thought blandly, she should just embarrass the family so bad so they could just disown her, and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

She grimaced at the thought, hearing Ray’s comment about sticking a fork in her eye, and of course he was already talking about getting her out of her dress for the evening. It made her remember that, for once, Raymond wasn’t paying her to hangout with him. It had been a while - maybe since the last time she and Audric got a little too frisky during his fake-ass divorce  Avery let out a loud laugh, shaking her head. “Are you already trying to get me naked?” she teased. “You might as well just spill someone on me on purpose, then - only if you buy me a new dress, though.” She grinned up at him. 

“I just remembered that I left the box of dog treats out on the counter for my dog,” Avery lied, waving it off. “She’s going to eat all of them. No worries. I’m glad to be here.”  She glanced around, trying to get a glimpse to see if Audric was here yet. They did have a plan, after all, in addition to the fun aspect of the evening. 

Sophia had never attended an event like this on her own, and if she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure that she liked it in the slightest. She had never been meant for solitude; for as long as she could remember she had sought out intimacy and affection in every aspect of her life, and going without it had always been more than enough to have her on the verge of a panic attack. She was made to love and be loved, even if it wasn’t real - even if she was so often left on her own the morning after - and all she wanted tonight was to find Raymond and perhaps share a dance or two with him before asking if he wouldn’t mind slipping out to one of the more secluded gardens to have his wicked way with her up against the nearest tree. It had been days since they had seen one another, after all, nearly a week since she had seen the invitation on his nightstand, and…she missed him more than she could bear, and the longer she spent so desperately in love with him, the harder it was to withstand any and all of his absences. 

But - there! No sooner had she set down the glass of rose wine she had been sipping on for the last ten or so minutes was a sudden flash of unruly dark hair and bronzed muscles entering her field of view, and Sophia’s sea glass green eyes widened with delight at the sight of the one and only underboss that she had been looking for. She wasn’t sure how she had missed him to begin with - Raymond was monstrous, more beast than man even on his best days, and even his suit seemed to be struggling to withstand the sheer heft of his powerful physique. He looked - wonderfully handsome, though, even if Sophia always felt the same way whether he was dressed to the nines or striding around his apartment in nothing but a pair of low-slung boxers, and in that moment, all she could think of was rushing into his arms and kissing him senseless. 

Except - oh. There was…there was someone with him. A woman, by the looks of it, with pretty curly hair and a short pink dress that didn’t seem to be particularly couture but suited her lithe frame all the same, and - they were standing close enough to one another for Sophia to realize that they weren’t merely friends or acquaintances. No…this was Raymond’s date to the gala, if she wasn’t mistaken, and suddenly Sophia’s heart was rising painfully up into her throat and making it difficult for her to breathe. He wasn’t - Raymond didn’t belong to her, and they were by no means a couple, and due to her job she slept with more men in any given week than she could even keep track of, but aside from him…she didn’t date. Nobody cared about her enough to want anything more from her than a night or two at the very most. Adonis was gone, and…Raymond was all that she had. Still - all soft, demure grace and classic Parisian manners, Sophia was never one to make a scene, and she had no right to do so in the first place. With that in mind, and despite the way her heart was breaking and shattering inside of her, she took a dainty step towards the couple - and they looked stunning together, it was true - and made her appearance known with a hesitant tap to the back of one of Raymond’s broad shoulders. 

“Bonjour, monsieur,” she murmured softly, lightly, and as she looked up at the underboss, he would recognize immediately that her dulcet smile didn’t quite reach her blue-green eyes; there was no flush of delight evident on her sweet, heart-shaped face, nothing at all like the way she usually lit up so radiantly whenever she was around him. “Non, I did not realize you would be attending tonight’s gala - perhaps it slipped your mind the last time we saw one another?” she asked innocently, drawing her graceful hand back and away from him, and it was then that she looked at his date - she had done nothing wrong, of course, and Sophia had no reason to be upset with her. She was beautiful, and couldn’t have been older than her own twenty-two years of age, and the young dancer hoped that she wasn’t making her feel uncomfortable. “Are the two of you enjoying yourselves so far? My name is Sophia - Sophia Wren. You have the most lovely hair, and your dress is stunning on you.” There was a smile, then, demure and faint, and she looked back up at Raymond, the expression on her fae-like face wavering for just a moment along with her slightly-wobbly voice. “I see now why you haven’t been at home for the past few days, Monsieur Holloway.”

Parties weren’t really Noah’s scene. Sure, he could fit in well enough at them, especially when he was wearing a sleek black tuxedo that had been tailored onto his muscular and sculpted frame to a tee, but unless he had a job to do he would greatly prefer to be anywhere else. Tonight, though, tonight was a big fucking deal, as far as Bratva business went, according to Viktor, the Golightly diamonds were hidden somewhere deep within the hotel, and that meant that every other mafia in the city would be prowling around the perimeter for any sign or hint to their whereabouts. Noah did espionage well, even if he did prefer blunt and aggressive means of force over anything else, and he made sure to blend into the gala as if he had truly been invited. Not many people knew of his ties to the Bratva, after all, part of his position as Tatiana’s bodyguard meant that he had to behave with a smooth, slick sort of caution, and as far as the guests at the party were concerned, he was just another VIP invitee. Never mind the steel in his blue eyes or the unrelenting strength of his muscles beneath his suit, never mind the scars that lined his body and his hands that were rough and worn with years worth of callouses. 

Right. Onto the next corner of the party. He was scanning the large ballroom in search of clusters of guards or a hidden security team—that was the first place to look if he was trying to locate a secret cache of diamonds. He took a slow and measured drink of the scotch he had been sipping at all evening as his piercing gaze surveyed his surroundings, so far there was nothing outside of the ordinary, except … wait. Golden blonde hair, sunkissed skin, one of the sexiest pairs of legs he had ever seen in his goddamned life. He’d know Sophia Wren anywhere, he wasn’t supposed to, given that she was firmly tied to the Irish bastards, but he met her as an undercover patron at The Cathouse a few months back and … well. She didn’t need to know about his ties to the Bratva, all she knew was that his name was Noah Greyheart and that he liked his girls young, tight, and nubile. All of which described her perfectly. She wasn’t alone, though, his eyes narrowed when he realized who she was talking to. Raymond Holloway, fucking Irish prick and underboss to Alexander Barrett himself. And … another lady. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, coffee and cream skin and a scandalously short pink dress. Incredibly different from Sophia but strikingly pretty in her own way. Hmmm. What the hell was going on here?

He cared for Sophia, as much as he was capable of caring for anyone, and he didn’t like how upset the tiny dancer seemed to look as she spoke to the hulking Holloway swine. This was one of the only nights of the year that he could interact freely with an underboss from an opposing mob without starting an all-out gunfight, he figured he might as well act on it. What was Raymond going to do? Shoot him in the middle of the dancefloor? Noah would have him castrated in seconds, likewise if he tried to blow his cover in front of Sophia. “Ladies,” he said smoothly as he approached the trio, with an appreciative nod to the petite brunette before he eyed Raymond with a casual, nonchalant sort of arrogance. “And gentleman. Is there a problem?” Sophia seemed especially shaky, Noah took it upon himself to slide a strong, muscular arm around her delicate waist, pulling her closer to him and away from the boar she seemed particularly displeased with. “It’s been quite some time, love. Looks like you’ve been keeping some not-so-nice company while I’ve been away, not including your cute little galpal here. Want me to get rid of him?” He jerked his chin towards Raymond. “Believe me, it wouldn’t be too hard.” 

“Always trying to get you naked, Cross. Thought I could at least show you a good time first.” Raymond gave the escort -- who, he had actually asked on a real date that night, rather than their sometimes late night meetings -- a wolfish smile that glinted like a devilish promise. Raymond truly did like Avery. She was a looker, and had enough snark that their first interaction across a bar had left him roaring with booming, thunder like laughter. Ray was known for bleeding through hookers and escorts like no other. Most nights, it was a quick fuck. One and done, never see them again and go on his merry way with his smug smile and a skip in his heavy foot falls. But something about Avery had caught his attention in a way most didn’t. He could name one other, but Sophia was... Sophia was in a category all her own. Avery, too -- good clean fun with no attachments. Sort of like his relationship with the blonde, but... a sort of unfamiliar territory where he knew Sophia like the back of his hand. Avery was different. New and shiny, if he had to put it bluntly. But she attracted him in a new way, enough so that he’d wanted to see her outside the pressures of her job. He wanted to see her have some fun.

“Makes it sound like you want me to get you a new dress, aye?”  Raymond, having finally gotten the bartender’s attention, quickly ordered a double of Jameson whiskey on the rocks. It wasn’t exactly a Guinness at Flanagan’s, but it’d have to do. He’d need a few more before he was even remotely intoxicated, but he’d decided to try -- emphasis on try -- to focus less on drinking and more on the pink-clad beauty at his side for the evening. “Open bar? It’s like they’re askin’ me to get shit faced and jump up on a table. What are you drinking? Don’t pussy out with just champagne --” The underboss’ words fell short, his thick eyebrow raising as a light tap at his shoulder momentarily drew his attention away from the beauty on his arm and to... another, who didn’t look too pleased about the latter. 

Well. This wasn’t good. 

Raymond was rarely left dumbfounded. Rather, he was usually pretty quick on his feet. Had this been anybody else -- and another situation or set of women -- he’d have made a comment about the ocean being a big place. Plenty of fish in the sea. Birds in the sky. Some dumb shit that would make them realize that they were just careless fucks on an ever growing list of careless fucks. Make them realize they didn’t mean anything except a set of DSL to hold him off until the next time. But the blonde before him was the last person he’d expected to see. And an even less likely situation was her standing next to Avery. How the fuck was he supposed to explain this? Shit. Sophia was at the gala -- and he, without a doubt, was so fucked in the ass for not inviting her. What was he going to say? He invited Avery because he had some commitment issues? That he’d thought she was off with a client? Their relationship hadn’t ever been defined -- so why did he feel so damn guilty?

“Uh. Shit -- this just got fun, huh? Right...” He cleared his throat, unbuttoning the top of his collar with a nervous twitch. “Sophia, this is... Avery, a, uh... a good friend of mine.” He motioned Avery to the blonde, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Avery, this is... well, fuck, she introduced herself already. We, uh... see each other.” Holy fuck, this could not have been the worst possible situation involving two women he’d ever been in. Normally -- god, he wished this was normal situation -- two women and Raymond Holloway meant a great time in a hot tub. This? This was not that. Ray opened his mouth to try to further explain the complexity of the relationships he had with the two women, before the sudden presence  of a man almost equal to his own size had his eyes narrowing into slits. Well, things just kept getting better. 

Raymond glowered at him. “Alright,” He began, heat seeming to radiate off his skin. He wouldn’t doubt that Avery could feel his muscles tense. Noah Greyheart. A factor in his best friend’s heart getting ripped out of his chest. A name that was sky high on a list of people Raymond personally wanted to murder with his bare hands. “What the ever loving fuck does this have to do with you? This ain’t a delivery zone for mail ordered Russian brides.”

Never in his life did Raymond Holloway think he’d be much of a gala man. Pubs and parties? Those were definitely his thing -- drinking, leggy women, and good punch or two over an accidental shove were more his thing. A punch over a purposeful shove was the ideal. But a party like this? He supposed it would do for a Saturday night. Especially when he had a pretty little thing on his arm and a hell of a night ahead of them. 

Raymond’s large hand flexed -- an almost teasing squeeze -- around Avery’s waist as he lead them inside, out of the sleek black car and past photographers and whatever other crazy shit the Golightys had allowed into The Garden for their daughters affair. Shit, with the amount of alcohol here, he’d almost forgotten the chick was only turning nineteen. But there was no doubt in anybodies mind that this was the place to be that evening. Between himself and the rest of the Irish that would be showing up, the amount of investors and potential associates were just practically pouring out the door. 

Raymond, the Irish’s underboss, will be attending the Golightly Gala as an esteemed investor and shareholder of Luck O The Irish Casino, in addition to an extra set of muscle at Alexander’s beck and call should he need it. He has invited Avery Cross ( @averycrxss ) as his date, and will mostly be drunk and loud for the event unless he is needed else where. 

For a secret wish or desire of theirs

“...wish I was brave enough to settle down. Get a ring, maybe.”

“Sex, booze, punching people.”

While Raymond tended to enjoy sleeping away the day for as long as possible, Sophia had always been an early riser. The moment the sun was beginning to shine high up in the sky and the birds were starting to chirp, she was awake and alert and all too ready to get a headstart on her day. This morning in particular was no exception; after nearly a week had gone by where she hadn’t seen her big bad wolf at all, Raymond had requested that she spend the night with him in his apartment, and the young dancer had all too eagerly agreed. Usually, she was there every other day during the week, but he had been busy as of late - something that, despite how desperately she longed to be with him, Sophia understood. Still - he was so peaceful as he slept, so adorably endearing with his mouth open and his hair tousled all over the pillowcase, and Sophia just barely managed to stifle a giggle as she leaned down to kiss the tip of his nose.

Breakfast. Her big man needed breakfast. 

She lived to dote on Ray - whether it was in the bedroom or out of it, she prided herself on how good she was at taking care of him. Right now, for instance, she had a beautifully fluffy french omelet with fine herbs and gruyere cheese warming on the stove, homemade hash browns and sausage in the oven, and for herself, a lovely strawberry smoothie that she was preparing in the blender. Goodness only knew that Raymond would still be capable of sleeping through it. However, no sooner had she pressed the start button on the little kitchen appliance was an awful noise sounding in her ears, and she realized all too quickly that she had forgotten something incredibly important: the lid. “Oh - mon dieu!” she gasped out in alarm, her eyes widening frantically as she did the first thing she could think of and ducked, but not before she managed to cover herself in a sweet and sticky coating of smoothie; all she had on was one of Ray’s worn t-shirts, and now it was soaked through with bright pink liquid. 

“Raymond - s’il vous plait - “ When she resurfaced, dainty manicured hands still held cautiously over her head as she rose from her kneeling position on the kitchen floor, Raymond was standing there in front of her, wonderfully shirtless and not-so-wonderfully awake as he looked down at her with the unplugged cord held in one of his strong and capable hands. “I - bonjour mon amour,” she began sheepishly, slowly standing up and scrunching her nose as she realized just how much of a wet and sticky mess she was, along with at least half of his kitchen. “Would you, erm - like to enjoy your breakfast in the other room while I…tend to this?” 

Mornings like this always seemed to be too scarce. Most of their relationship? It was spent in the dark. Moonlit out on the city streets, or flashing with strobe lights, or with dim with a glow that filtered from Ray’s bedside table lamp. On cold nights, the fire place, if he hadn’t already scooped Sophia up and carried her into the bedroom. It wasn’t that Raymond minded the dark. It was more that feeling of days being too few and too damn short. There was always work to be done. Territory skirmishes, cleaning up messes -- making sure the boss had him where and when he needed him. Paperwork, watching the casino tables, making sure people knew the Irish meant fucking business. And because mornings were basically none existent in the grand scheme of their lives, Raymond was plenty happy just looking at his little bird. 

Even if she was covered in murdered fucking fruit. 

“Told you to just order in. Not that I’m ever going to complain about your damn good cooking, but shit -- wasn’t really looking into painting my walls this shade.” Reaching over his shoulder, Ray pulled his white wife beater -- double handed -- over his head, tousling his lose hair and leaving him barefoot and in a pair of gray sweatpants. Balling the wife beater in his hands, he stepped over an unceremonious puddle of smoothie on the floor, hovering over her. Raymond bended his knees slightly so that he was closer to his height, and with a gruff “Don’t move,” began dabbing away at the drink on her face. She was covered in it -- tangled in her hair and splattered across her face. 

A twisted, devilish look crossed his features. Feigning concentration, he then broke his character, taking a quick moment to lick a long streak up the side of her face as he tossed aside the wife beater with a booming laugh. 

“Grab the mop -- not gonna make you clean alone. What am I, an asshole?”

“Just what a man wants to hear, that his Underboss is loaded,” Alex said dryly, climbing up to the VIP area and swiping the dice from Raymond’s hands. He frowned slightly, glancing at the small dice and allowing them to roll in his hands, testing to feel the weight of them. Sometimes the damned bastards just thought they could get away with pulling a fast one over on him, didn’t they? With a sigh, Alex moved to take a seat, gesturing for Raymond to do the same as he placed the dice in the middle of the table, allowing them to roll to their designated even number.

“I take it you dealt with the little problem aptly, judging by the new color coating your knuckles,” Alex said with a nod towards Raymond’s hands. “Rumor has it one of the Russians tried to make off with money from one of the tables–know anything about that? I’d like to get that particular pest problem under control.”

“Always loaded, Barrett. Makes everything more fun. Not so much with driving, but theres Uber and your duds in the black caps and black cars for that. Look fucking stupid, but they have booze in the back seat. Uber just has waters. Aye -- ” Raymond grinned again, then tsked his tongue as his friend (brother, if anybody wondered how deep their friendship went) snatched the dice from his hand. “Ain’t nice to take without asking. Gotta take turns.” With a wiggle of his thick eyebrows, Ray tossed the cocktail haphazardly next to the dice -- the dice themselves had a new color, too. They didn’t match his knuckles exactly. In the moments that had passed, they’d gone darker as the blood dried, a deep and dark color that almost matched the red velvet of the roulette table not far from view. 

“Heard it was some skimpy bitch. Didn’t get a name, or much of a face -- just that she’s got a mouth on her. What’s her face -- Elise? Sounds like she stopped her on the way out, but other than that? Nothing.”

Raymond, as usual, had something akin to an idiotic smile on his face. He was a simple man, of simple pleasures. He liked to drink, he liked sex, and he always got a fucking kick out of knocking someone’s teeth in. In a place like Luck O’ The Irish, it wasn’t a big surprise that he was propped up against the walls of a VIP area, wiping blood off his knuckles with a cocktail napkin. Upon Alexander’s approach, he grinned wider, holding up a pair of dice between his fingers as two security guards hauled the bloodies man out. 

“Loaded. Don’t you fucking hate cheaters?”

Raymond had always been more of a night person than he’d been a morning person. The mountain of a man could stay up until 9am, but he couldn't for shit wake up at that time. So when the worst sound he’d ever heard grated against his ears at half past, Raymond Holloway was on a war path. Jolting out of bed, his bleary eyes slid to the vacant spot next to him. 

“Sophia?” He yelled, throwing open the bedroom door of his apartment in the  Little Dublin Residences. “Sophia, what the fuck are you doing up this -- ?” His words cut short when he saw her in the kitchen, the leggy blonde shrieking as the blender she was attempting to use started to make an awful moaning sound. Raymond cupped his hands around his mouth, barley having time to shout “The lid!” before the blender exploded, covering the kitchen -- and Sophia -- in a thick coat of what looked like a strawberry smoothie, spinning wildly out of control. He lunged forward, ducking around the spray of pink, before yanking the plug out of the wall. 

He could only blink down at her. “...isn’t even noon.”