Chapter 95: Celebration Big Wins
"Right. A specialized breed. You’re both completely nuts."
April rolled her eyes. I think he forgets that he’s the literal psychopath here.
Shaking his head with a lopsided grin, Nat stepped closer and held out the heavy, gold-embossed leather folder containing the hillside fortress documents.
"Anyway... sign your legal name right here on the beneficiary line, sweetheart." He said. "This way, the city records show it’s officially yours, and I can’t suddenly sneak up the mountain at night and steal it back from you."
April looked down at the physical land deed, her heart swelling with an immense satisfaction. The final piece of her survival puzzle was resting in her hands.
She took the pen from his fingers and firmly signed her name across the parchment: April Gabriel.
The fortress was legally hers.
Just as she finished the signature, the glass security doors clicked open, and Xavier Reed strode back into the holding bay.
He held his own finalized corporate deeds for Lot Thirteen, his tall figure radiating a calm, absolute authority.
His eyes briefly swept over the obedient, moon-furred beast sitting at April’s feet, a subtle look of validation crossing his handsome face.
"The assets have been fully processed and secured, Miss April," Xavier said, his deep voice smooth as he stepped up to their circle. "Congratulations on acquiring exactly what you came for once again."
Alexander Greels let out a massive, excited breath, clapping his hands together as he looked at the group.
The intense, suffocating tension of the auction house had finally dissolved, leaving them all with highly successful acquisitions.
"Man, what a night," Alexander laughed, his eyes bright as he looked between Xavier, Nat, and April. "We completely destroyed the Pearson lineage on the floor, and bought half the northern ridge. We should totally celebrate this."
"Oh, I know a great private bar down the way," Alexander suggested eagerly, already turning to lead the way out toward the valets. "Strictly exclusive. No press, no annoying socialites. Let’s go celebrate."
It sounded like he was a regular in that kind of place and because he hadn’t had time to visit, he wanted to kick back and drink himself to stupor.
Alexander’s suggestion hung in the air, greeted by an immediate, enthusiastic hum of approval from the group.
April stood stiffly by the pillar, her gaze snapping toward Xavier. She narrowed her eyes, subtly tilting her head and giving him a sharp, pointed look. Say no, Xavier, she signaled with her eyes, her eyebrows arching high. Tell him we have... I don’t know, a meeting or something. Tell him we’re busy.
But Xavier remained entirely unmoved, his expression smooth as polished granite. He didn’t even acknowledge her silent plea, his gaze already shifting toward the exit as if he were genuinely considering the merits of a high-end whiskey.
"A lounge sounds appropriate," Xavier remarked, his voice steady and low. "We have had a long evening. A drink will settle the nerves."
April’s shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. Great. The ’unshakeable workaholic tycoon’ has developed a sudden interest in leisure.
She looked at the men surrounding her—men who could command armies, manipulate markets, and snap necks without breaking a sweat—and she felt a sudden, strange flicker of anxiety.
In truth, April had never touched a drop of alcohol in her entire life. Her previous existence had been defined by hunger, exhaustion, and survival; there was no room for fancy cocktails or dry gin.
She didn’t have the slightest clue if she even possessed the biological tolerance to handle the stuff.
"You look like you’re heading to the gallows, sweetheart," Nat snickered, nudging her side with his elbow, his grin wide and predatory. "It’s just a drink, not a poison vial. Though, I suppose if you’re worried, I can make sure nobody slips anything into your glass."
"I am not worried about poison, Mr. Collins," April muttered, adjusting the strap of her clutch. "I am worried about the efficiency of my cognitive reasoning. Alcohol is a depressant; it dulls the mind."
"It also loosens the tongue," Alexander added with a boyish, reckless grin, already walking toward the entrance. "And after the day we’ve had, I think we’re all entitled to a little loosening."
April let out a long, weary breath. She was trapped. If she refused, she’d look like a killjoy who didn’t want to celebrate their massive win; if she agreed, she was entering a territory she hadn’t experienced before. Fine, she thought. If I have to drink, I’ll drink like it’s a tactical maneuver.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a glass-fronted establishment buried deep in the center of the commercial district.
The interior was a sleek, dimly lit maze of marble and velvet, smelling faintly of expensive cigar smoke and aged oak.
It was empty of the usual riff-raff—Samuel had clearly made a phone call the second Alexander mentioned a bar, ensuring the place was fully swept and cleared for their party.
They took a circular booth in the back. As the server hovered nearby, looking anxious and a bit terrified because he immediately recognized Nat Collins, April stared at the list of options on the menu.
Everything sounded foreign. Gin. Vodka. Bourbon. Single Malt. It was all just chemicals to her.
When the server finally approached, April kept her face completely deadpan.
"I will take," she started, hesitating for a fraction of a second, "whatever is the least... aggressive."
"A gin and tonic with a heavy lime garnish," Samuel interjected from behind her shoulder, his voice low and efficient. "It is light, clean, and has a low toxicity profile. It will suit you perfectly, Miss April."
April blinked. Samuel has a ’drink prescription’ for me too?
"Fine. Whatever Samuel said," she said, leaning back into the plush velvet cushions.
As the drinks were set down, the contrast between the three men was jarring. Nat was already swirling a deep, amber whiskey, looking like he was ready to start a brawl; Alexander was chatting away, already buzzed from the excitement of the auction; and Xavier simply held his glass, watching April with an unreadable, intense gaze.
April stared at the clear liquid in her own glass, the ice cubes clinking softly as she raised it to her lips. She took a small sip.
The immediate burn of the gin hit the back of her throat, a sharp sting that made her eyes water for a split second.
She suppressed a cough, forcing her expression to remain perfectly neutral.
Aggressive, she thought, her brain firing off warning signals. That is definitely an aggressive substance.
"Well?" Nat leaned in, his shades glinting in the low light. "Does it burn, sweetheart? Or do you need a bit of the ’tough stuff’ to warm you up?"
April looked at him, her eyes dark and steady. She took another, deliberate sip, feeling the heat bloom in her chest. It wasn’t poison, but it was certainly a distraction.
"It’s fine," she said, her voice cool. "But if this is what passes for ’loosening the tongue,’ I think I prefer my cognitive functions strictly under my own control."
