Page 161 of Arrow

“That’s what I said,” Isadora drawled, already swiping on a fresh coat of lipstick. “Anyway. There’s something fucked in the wind. Zephyr says the club’s crawling with new money, but the kind that doesn’t tip; the kind that goes quiet when your name comes up.” She paused for dramatic effect, lips pursed. “You’re trending, sweets. Again.”

I wanted to feel annoyed. Instead, I felt . . . maliciously alive. “Zeph’s just mad I out-shadowed his new sub.”

Isadora’s eyes crinkled, the chicest eye roll east of Fifth. “I’m serious, Harlowe. You and Arrow have been on every private story feed.”

“Surprise, surprise,” I mumbled, dragging a hand through my hair. “What kind of stories? The usual sex-and-scandal shit, or something new and exciting?”

Isadora’s face went tight, the gold mask slipping down her chin as she leaned closer to the camera. “The kind that gets people killed, baby girl. Word is, Arrow’s father isn’t happy about your little display last night. Svetlana’s father is saying Arrow disrespected his daughter by letting his fiancée run wild at a sex club the same night they were discussing business.”

My stomach knotted. Not from guilt, but from the recognition of consequences spiraling beyond my control. I’d known my performance with Harley would cause trouble with Arrow, but I hadn’t considered how it might affect the delicate web of alliances and enemies our families had spent decades weaving.

“That’s not my problem,” I said, but the words sounded gross.

“It will be when they pull their support for the wedding,” Isadora countered. “The Kovenskis control half the diamond trade in this city. Without them, your little matrimonial power play loses serious backing.”

I drained my coffee, wincing as the bitter dregs hit my tongue. “Arrow will handle it.”

“Will he?” Isadora’s perfectly arched eyebrow rose. “Because from what I hear, your little stunt might have just fucked up months of careful negotiation.”

I rolled my eyes, but a flicker of unease sparked in my gut. “Since when do you care about Romanov business dealings?”

“Since my club got dragged into the middle of a potential gang war.” She sighed dramatically. “Look, I’m just saying . . . be careful. The Kovenskis don’t forget slights, and Svetlana has been obsessed with Arrow for years. She’s not going to take this lying down.”

“Let her stand up then,” I snapped. “I’m not afraid of some diamond princess.”

Isadora's laugh was brittle. “You should be. That ‘princess’ once had a girl’s face sliced open for dancing with Arrow at a charity gala. Sixteen stitches, career over.”

“Jesus,” I muttered, swallowing hard. “You think she’d try something like that with me?”

“Honey, I think she’d do worse. You didn’t just dance with Arrow, you’re marrying him. And now you’ve humiliated her in front of her father.” Isadora’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your guard dog today? Please tell me you’re not alone.”

I glanced around the empty penthouse. “Frank dropped me off last night. Arrow was here, but . . .” I gestured vaguely to the rumpled sheets visible through the bedroom doorway. “He left before I woke up.”

“Giovanni Virelli’s daughter is engaged to the son of his worst enemy, who just publicly humiliated the daughter of the third most powerful family in the city, by leaving to handle things with you, two days before your wedding.” Her voice dropped. “The streets are talking, Harlowe. And they’re saying someone’s going to make an example.”

I felt a chill run through me that had nothing to do with my damp skin or the air conditioning. “Whose example? Mine?”

Isadora’s eyes flickered to something off-camera. “Could be you. Could be Arrow. Could be both of you. All I know is, Svetlana’s exactly the type of someone who’s pissed enough to start making noise.”

I sank back against the couch cushions, trying to look more nonchalant than I felt. “Let them make noise. It’s what they always do—talk shit until someone bigger shuts them up.”

“This isn't just talk,” Isadora insisted. “Kovenski’s men were asking questions at the club this morning. Wanting to know who you left with, if you’d been there before, who you knew.” She paused. “They paid Harley a visit.”

My blood ran cold. “Is she okay?”

“Define okay. She’s alive, but she’s spooked. Left town this morning.” Isadora's voice dropped to a whisper. “Look, I don’t care what kind of fucked-up Romeo and Juliet shit you and him are playing at. But keep it away from my club and my girls.”

“I didn’t mean⁠—”

“Save it. Just fix this before someone gets killed who doesn’t have a last name that matters.” She hung up before I could respond.

As I stared at my blank phone screen, the pit in my stomach deepening. What had I done? I’d wanted to hurt Arrow, but I hadn’t considered the ripple effects beyond our private war. The image of Harley being questioned by Kovenski’s men made me sick. She was collateral damage in a game she never signed up for.

I was still looking at my blank phone when the elevator chimed. I tensed, expecting Arrow, ready to confront him about the mess we’d made. Instead, the doors slid open to reveal Orion, his muscular frame filling the entrance.

“Morning, sunshine,” he called, strolling in like he owned the place. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

I tugged my robe tighter, wincing as the fabric brushed against fresh bruises. “What do you want, Orion?”