𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 69

— Chapter 69 —
Black Sheep

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E L L I O T

'FOUR' was Noah's version of a practical joke.

I couldn't believe it.

He'd put me through all that pain. He built up so much anticipation as to what my tattoo could be, just for a few black letters that spelled out 'FOUR'. 

He could've marked my lips with anything, and he picked four.

Why four? I'd wondered in the mirror this morning, as my lips went sore from how long I'd been holding them open. Because of his other tattoos? Or did he care more about freaking me out instead?

If it was the latter, great—because karma had come in all her glory, and Noah was sick again. Apparently sitting shirtless out in the cold all night could do that to you. Who knew.

The sounds of him coughing and sniffling woke me up in the early morning. Tossing and turning on his side of the bed all night, he got up twice for the sole reason of stretching his legs, only to sweat himself awake once he finally got to sleep.

Delirious fever or not, he left the apartment before the first beams of sunlight flickered in through the curtains—probably to pick up Chains, who'd spent what I imagined was an equally restless night at the police station. I hadn't seen Noah since.

"Are you sure this looks alright?"

Three times I'd asked James that question this afternoon. Getting us ready for his brother's wedding, he'd invited me to his palatial loft in the inner city to have me try on some suits he'd chosen for me. To be honest, I was too distracted by my surroundings to pay enough attention to anything I was wearing.

James' residence was unlike anything I'd imagined it would look like. It was on the top floor of a building made of glassy windows and marble floors. Once we passed the extensive front desk on the lower level, he led me into his loft, which was somehow even more grand. Pristine white walls held away a coffered ceiling, from which glittering light fixtures and chandeliers hung. A marble-embellished fireplace stood opposite a glass coffee table and deep-grey sofas. Floating stairs of black stone led to the upper level, which I could only glimpse peeks of through glass balustrades.

Everything I touched felt like money that I'd never have such an abundance of.

"Turn around," mused James. Leaning against the back of his sofa with his lips hidden behind a flawless hand, he watched me adjust the cuffs to a suit shirt he'd picked out for me.

Dropping my arms to my sides, I drew in a breath and made a full rotation. James tilted his head to make his judgment.

"It's the jacket, isn't it?" I worried. Brushing the silky fabric of the black suit jacket, I craned my neck to see the back of it. "It's too much, right?"

"How does it make you feel?" He asked instead. "Too tight?"

I admitted, "The sleeves aren't giving me much room. I feel like a poorly dressed mannequin."

James, on the other hand, looked like he was made for the clothes he was wearing. Made of black cashmere and fully bespoke without doubt, his tuxedo fitted his figure faultlessly. Silver cufflinks sat at the ends of his white sleeves. A black bow tie was sharp around his neck, while my reflection shimmered in the leather of his polished loafers.

He chuckled and stood up to hold onto the back of my collar. Relieved, I pulled my arms out from the mound of black fabric, immediately less warm and much more comfortable. Turning back on my heel, I brushed down the slim-fitting ebony vest around my torso and made sure the silver pin on my tie was sitting properly. If James was going out of his way to loan me the suit, I at least planned to look decent in it.