Sweet Little Lies

The streets were dark and wet, normal for this time of year in the city of Kingstown. In fact, it rained most days of the year here. The people were used to it, with heavy coats and umbrellas a staple in every resident's closet. Kingstown is literally a city of immorality, Gotham in real life. It wasn't just the normal casinos taking money from people who couldn't help but gamble their life's fortune away. Or the strip clubs that offered special perks in the back rooms for those willing to pay. Or even the men who prowled the parks late at night.

†††

"Sick of this goddamn rain." Cameron Mendez muttered to himself as he made the turn onto the street where his pub stood.

It had been an abnormally long rainy season this time. Two straight months of it. While it rained a lot in Kingstown, there were usually at least small breaks in between storms. Little pockets of relief, but it wasn't the same this year.

It wasn't the weather that put Mendez in a pissy mood but one of his bars-not a big one or even a profitable one – had been robbed. They didn't steal cash or liquor. Instead, they focused on the cache of guns that was in the basement. A hidden basement. One that only a handful of people knew about. The entrance was a loose floorboard that blended in so well that even if you knew it was there, it took a second look to find it.

That meant only one thing.

They had a rat.

People parted in the street to let him through, the hat and pin on his jet-black overcoat signaling to everyone just what and who he was. It had been a long time since that affected him. Mendez used to relish it, staring down those who took too long to move or gazed too long at the gold pin on his breast pocket. Then the paranoia set in after a few years of his ascension, eyeing every single warm body that passed him in the streets, hating how recognizable he had become.

Now, it was as normal as the rain that fell on his shoulders.

He had reached a point in his life where he was finally comfortable. He was at the top of the food chain in Kingstown, his reputation allowing for a certain level of protection. There were those who tried, of course, but there was nothing more that Mendez valued than his trusted inner circle.

That trust was now frayed, Mendez unable to figure out who it was who had given up valuable information. Not one of his people had ever given him a hint that they would turn on him. And that was a problem. This information had cost him thousands upon thousands of dollars. Since learning of the heist, that paranoia that had almost cost him everything back in his early days had started to edge its way back into the folds of his mind. Every waking thought was dedicated to finding this turncoat.

And he would.

The bells at the door jingled as Mendez entered his pub. A mixture of cedar and whisky filled his senses, the familiarity calming the unease sifting through his stomach. He knew the man sitting in the corner seat at the bar, what section of the newspaper he was reading, and how many drinks he had. The screens were all set to sports, most playing baseball as it was heading into the World Series. The bartenders shaking drinks and pouring beer were making jokes with the others at the bartop.

Home. That's what this felt like. Safe. Something his family rarely felt.

But that was where this story started, right? With the mistake of getting too comfortable, too trusting, too safe. With age and success, Mendez had failed at the most important rule of this job.

Never trust a human being.

It looked like he had broken that cardinal rule.

Mendez moved past the crowd without a glance, heading straight for a door tucked near the kitchen. A bulky guard answered his knock, stared for a beat, then stepped aside.

Inside, the air was thick with smoke. Card tables filled the room, men gambling and puffing cigars. Heads turned as Mendez walked by-no one dared speak. Even the city's most powerful men went quiet around him. He liked it. It meant his reputation still held weight, despite recent setbacks.

A girl offered cigars to a group of potbellied men admiring them in gold-lined boxes. An argument sparked in the corner, but security shut it down fast. Power didn't matter here. Mendez's rules did.

He didn't stop or acknowledge anyone. His destination lay beyond a narrow hallway and past a locked steel door. A second guard stood there, tense as Mendez approached. Behind him: a thick vault door with a giant wheel handle. Old-school. His father's idea of style.

"Key, boss?"

Mendez reached into his coat, pulling out a ring of keys. The guard added his, and together they turned. A loud click echoed, then the door groaned open.

Behind it, a narrow staircase spiralled upward. Four floors of brick walls, cracked steps, and dim bulbs led to a plain wooden door. No windows. No exits. Just the climb.

At the top, Mendez paused. Fixed his watch. Took a breath. Then knocked three times, sharp and precise.

The door opened. Inside: five men. His guards. His brother Tully. A stranger. And Cedric Glover.

"Cameron," Cedric said, voice low, face hidden in shadow.

Mendez sat across from him. "Cedric. Thanks for coming."

"You don't really say no to a Mendez."

Fair enough.

"You've heard what's happening in Kingstown?"

Cedric nodded. "Word gets around."

"It's not just my problem, though, is it?"

Cedric's eyes narrowed. He was known for being cold. He ran the uptown business district and owned one of the biggest tech companies in the world. Old money. Royal blood, some whispered. His family had property across continents-castles even, hidden in swamps and forests.

Mendez leaned in.

"We have a new enemy. And I think it's time we stop pretending it's just my war."

Glover stayed silent, waiting for Mendez to give up what he knew. Taking his time, he tasted his signature whiskey. A hint of vanilla met his tongue, and he savored it. Setting the glass down on the table, hand still wrapped around the tumbler, he began. "Bianchi and Yaroslav have had some troubles. The gardens and docks were raided last week." He listed off the territory of the respective families. "And I heard through the grapevine that you're being audited."

Eyes narrowed, "Normal for any business," responded Glover.

"But not random." Mendez shot back. Loud silence filled the air around them. Mendez knew he had to play for power. Glover might be an old associate of his, but their power structure was always shifting. Finally, he continued, "I've got information that you might be interested in."

"Do you?" He asked breezily, sitting back in his chair.

Glover's face became illuminated at once. Sharp lines, a prominent jaw, and chilling black eyes. Certainly, they were brown, but so dark they gave the illusion of a never-ending black hole.

"A new player has arrived in town."

The sentence was exactly what Mendez needed to shift the power in his direction. He was the one with information. He was the one leading this meeting. He now held the cards in his hand, able to lead Glover to exactly what he wanted.

"Who?"

Looking away, he said, "I don't have a name just yet. Only a moniker." Pausing, he waited for the tension to thicken. "Conrad."

"And how do you know this?"

"I have my spiders." Speaking of the individuals who heard whispers on streets, in bars, and along rooftops.

Glover stared at him, never blinking. He was considering his options. At first, this used to unnerve Mendez, the cold deadness of his gaze, but now it was as casual and normal as the rain pelting the cobblestone streets below.

"Conrad," Cedric Glover spoke softly, "how cute."

Gruffly, Mendez said, "He's been toying with us, like this is a game to him."

"A street gang gone rogue?" He asked.

He could be. Little street gangs popped up all the time in Kingstown. They would let them battle it out over turf and the victors would be swallowed by the kingpins. Mendez, Glover, Bianchi, Yaroslav, and Tanaka. They absorbed them into their own, using them as spiders and bats - the nickname for those who would handle the most brutal affairs on street levels, often times carrying around bats and crowbars.

"Maybe, but my gut tells me no." He confided in Glover. "No one in this city would dare. He has to come from outside."

"What are his goals?" Glover drawled, "To take down the king of Kingstown?"

He was taunting Mendez, knowing that it was his family that had ruled this city for over a century. This Conrad would come after Mendez first. It was typical of those who craved power. Always go for the head.

"Yes, he'll come for me and my family."

"So why should I concern myself with your family's affairs?"

A cruel smile spread across Mendez's face. With a deep chuckle, he said, "You think he'll just stop at me?" He leaned forward, elbows placed firmly on the wooden table: "You're next in line, Glover. He's already attacked you, and you have no idea."

A scowl twisted onto the man's face, just as sharp as his other features: "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Your stock has dipped. Rivals are moving in on your territory. And some of your top executives have left recently." He finished his drink, holding it out for a refill. "Conrad isn't coming after just me, Cedric. He's coming after all of us. If you think all of that is just coincidence..."

It was a guess, but one Mendez was sure of. If it had been him, he would've done the same thing. Take out all the gangs he could to rise to power. The same strategy his great-great-grandfather had used to overthrow the old gangs back in the eighteen-hundreds.

"So, what's your plan?" Said Glover.

"Strengthen our alliances."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Asked Glover.

Mendez tilted his head. "We've worked together for many years now. I think it's time we tie our families together."

Understanding gradually crossed his face. "And which daughter will you gift?"

Tully glanced at him. They both knew exactly which daughter the Glover would get. Cynthia was too soft, too flighty. If he sold her off, she would flee.

"India."

A wide grin formed on his face: "The Whiskey Heiress?"

"The very same." He nodded. "Your son, Jason, is around the same age, and they both get a lot of press. It would be good for both businesses, as well as strengthening our hold on this city. Stocks will flourish, the PR will be good, and everyone likes a lavish wedding. It's the perfect distraction from what we're currently dealing with."

Cedric finished his drink, setting it down with a clink. "And we'll share all information and intel we gather from our spiders? This will be a true partnership?"

"Yes." He said, "We will need each other to survive this. War is coming. Whether it's Conrad or whoever else feels inspired by him. Kingstown has been quiet for too many years."

"Quiet." Glover chuckled, "Only you, Cameron, would call this city quiet."

A small smile spread across his face, though never reaching his eyes. Mendez shrugged, "I should've seen this coming. Oh well, it's here, and we can do something to stop it. Do we have a deal"?

This time there was no hesitation.

"Yes." Glover stood up, fixing up his coat. He was dressed in pinstripes, a pocket watch in his hand as he checked the time, gold chain draping across his frame. He was the picture of sophistication and wealth. His bodyguard stood directly behind him, eyeing the room as everyone shifted. "I'll speak with my son tonight."

"Now, unless I'm mistaken, your son was seen out last night with his latest conquest."

A sigh left Glover's lips: "That would not surprise me."

"To make this work properly, we should wait a few months. Your son and my daughter will not be seen in public with anyone else. By the end of fall, they'll announce their relationship with a date, and by Christmas they'll be engaged."

"A whirlwind romance." He muttered, then nodded in agreement, "I'll make sure my son doesn't bring any of his whores around."

"Good."

With that, Glover exited without another word. Mendez waited until the light flashed red, indicating that the vault door had been opened again. Turning to his second, Tully, he said, "Well, that turned out exactly as planned."

"Do you really think marrying off India will help with this situation?" Tully asked, making himself a drink.

"Yes, Glover would've dropped us in an instant if he thought we were going to lose, but now we've ensured that he won't be able to do that."

"A marriage alliance hasn't been done in a long time." Tully pointed it out.

"Exactly why no one will be expecting it."

"And how do you think India will react to this news?"

Mendez shrugged, "She's known since birth that this might happen. She'll do her duty."

"And everyone in this city knows that Cedric Glover's son likes to have a menagerie of men and women at his beck and call. Think he'll stop with his so-called whores for your daughter?"

"Have you met Cedric Glover? You know the rumors about their family." Mendez swiped up on his phone as he talked: "His son will do whatever he says, just as my daughter will."

Tully nodded. "Not gonna lie, that match-up will be entertaining. From what I heard about the younger Glover, he'll drive our dear India up the wall."

"She'll behave herself if she knows what's best. Let her be the Glover's whore. As long as the marriage sticks, we will have the upper hand with this Conrad." Mendez drew out the name, tasting it on his tongue. The bitterness made him suck down another drink. After a moment's silence, he turned to Tully. "Have your people put out extra ears near Tanaka territory. They're the only ones we haven't heard have had any hits. Either they're keeping it quiet, it hasn't happened yet, or they know something."

Tully nodded, "I will tonight."

"Now." He reiterated, a fierce growl to his tone. They had no time to waste.

His brother left, leaving him in the silence of the room. Two guards stayed still by the door, guns in hand, just in case. Mendez stepped up to the window, looking down at the Southside. His pub was the tallest building in the area, most others maxing out at two stories. From here, he could see the sprawling skyscrapers of downtown, the greenery of the gardens, and the spotlights near the docks.

Kingstown, his city, was too valuable to lose. He had sacrificed so much to be where he was - his own heart - and he refused to let it all slip through his fingers. Conrad was coming. Everything that had happened was little games, cat and mouse, but Mendez knew this was just the beginning.

India slipped on her coat over the sleek black dress she'd just changed into as her computer shut down. Rain tapped against the windows-gray skies, same as always. She tossed her laptop into her bag, slung it over her shoulder, and headed out.

The office was quiet. Her assistant had left an hour ago, and the top floors were nearly empty. Just her, and somewhere above, her brother Reid and their father.

Mendez Whiskey was a legacy brand-one of Ireland's finest. But thanks to India dragging them online, they were finally going global. She handled all the digital strategy and ran their socials like a pro.

But that wasn't all she did.

India had her own Instagram-curated, polished, and fake as hell. Dreamy shots. Perfect captions. A lifestyle her followers drooled over. None of it real.

But it made her money. Real money. Money no one in her family could control.

And in a family like hers, that meant freedom.

The elevator ride was dead silent-most people were already home. India figured a few execs were probably still hunched over their desks, desperate for her dad's approval. Pathetic. Then again, she wasn't much better. It was nearly 8 p.m., and she'd just wrapped a project he'd probably greenlight without a word of thanks.

Her Bentley was waiting in her usual spot. As she eased into traffic, the city buzzed-Friday night, people everywhere, honking, swerving, living.

"Call Wren,"she said to her phone.

Ringing. Then: "Hey, I'm at the restaurant. Adrian ditched again."

India laughed. "Secret boyfriend?"

"Who else?"

"You think we'll ever meet him?"

"Not if she can help it. She's hiding him so we don't corrupt him."

"We would never," India said with mock innocence.

"Let's take bets. I say he's older. Like, way older."

"She's either in love or low-key ashamed. What if it's someone we know? Like... Brandon or-God-Socks?"

"Socks?" Wren howled. "The trauma!"

India cracked up too. Adrian had given him that nickname-after finding his infamous crusty sock at a party in middle school. The name stuck harder than the sock.

"I'm almost there," India said as traffic inched along. "Don't order without me."

Five minutes later, she handed her keys to the valet and slipped under the canopy, dodging the rain. Inside, the restaurant buzzed with energy-dim lights, moody vibes, and packed tables. The perfect scene to unwind... or stir up some drama.

Noble was the spot-top of the food chain, Michelin star, owned by the powerful Tanaka family. India also knew its secret: a hidden door in the basement that led straight to the old underground tunnels, leftovers from the city's retired subway system. Spechtron Tech had built a sleeker high-speed line years ago, leaving the old tracks to rot-until the Tanakas claimed them for their own use.

Inside, the place pulsed with quiet luxury. Wren sat dead centre, all platinum blonde and candlelight glow. Her gaze was locked on a woman by the bar, eyeing her like a second drink.

She didn't notice India until the hostess pulled out the empty chair. It screeched against the floor, loud enough to snap her out of it.

"A friend?" India teased, crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair.

A sly smile played across Wren's heart-shaped lips. "A very good friend."

"She's cute."

"She shaves her pussy into a heart."

India nearly choked on her water. "How does someone even do that?"

"No clue, but it's adorable." Wren shrugged.

"How was work?" She decidedly changed the topic.

Just like India, Wren worked for Mendez Whisky. Her uncle-India's father's brother-was CFO, and she had taken to her father's talents, graduating with a master's in accounting. Wren had a way with numbers and would almost certainly be the future CFO of the family business.

"Boring." She drawled, "Got all my work done within a few hours and spent the last half of the day on my phone. Did you hear that Harley Twist was arrested in Rome?"

"Was he?" India unfurled her napkin, placing the silverware neatly on the table and spreading the cloth over her lap. "What did he do this time?"

"Something involving a sex worker. The usual."

Humming, India kept her next comment to herself, seeing the server step up to the table. "Hello, Miss Mendez. May I get you something to drink."

"Red wine, please. Whatever you recommend."

"Of course and would you like a refill?" He turned to Wren.

She held up her empty glass for him to take, "Yes, I'll take two cherries this time."

He nodded and left them alone. India's eyes wandered around them, seeing if she recognized anyone dining tonight. She clocked a few familiar faces, but no one important. A young woman a few tables away kept glancing over at them and then whispering excitedly to her dinner mate.

India glanced over at the table near the window. Two girls, maybe in their early twenties, were staring her down. Nothing about them screamed circle-no familiar last names, no subtle family markers. Probably just Instagram followers trying not to fangirl too hard. Once she was sure they weren't a threat, she turned back to Wren.

Drinks landed, and dinner followed. Wren launched into gossip-old classmates turned wannabe influencers, trust fund disasters, and new players in town. Kingstown was changing. On the surface, it looked polished, trendy, and safe. Tourists raved. What they didn't know-or were paid not to say-was that the city still had sharp teeth.

Between bites, they kept playing the "Who's Adrian Dating?" game. The guesses got more unhinged by the minute. Brandon? Socks? The bartender? The chef? Laughter spilt between them, along with perfectly plated food from the chef, who always saved the best for the Mendez girls.

When the plates were cleared, Wren excused herself-probably not for the bathroom but to flirt with the girl at the bar.

India stayed back, sipping her wine. It was deep and rich, with black cherry and plum lingering on her tongue. She barely noticed the figure sliding into Wren's empty seat... until he spoke.

Her posture snapped straight.

The man across from her wasn't just anyone. In Kingstown, everyone knew who he was-even if no one dared say his name out loud. He was the shadow to her spotlight. While she curated a life online, he moved silently through real power.

Same city. Same college. Their families did business behind closed doors. But India and this man? They had never once spoken. Not out of fear-at least not hers-but because people like them in the same room were dangerous. Too much heat. Too much history. Too many eyes watching.

And now here he was.

Uninvited.

Yet here he was. Jason Glover. Son to Cedric Glover, the second most dangerous person in Kingstown. Chocolatey brown hair with deceptively innocent curls distracting from the harsh lines of his face. A jawline that could cut glass and high cheekbones that India envied. It was his eyes that shocked her the most, though. Pictures did him no justice, in all honesty. Yes, they may have been paparazzi shots-him with his latest plaything going in and out of various clubs and restaurants-but never would India have guessed the intensity in his eyes.

The green of his irises was hard to pinpoint. Under certain light they might have looked pale, but the way he held his brows, slightly furrowed at all times, made them seem darker, more serious. His gaze commanded attention, others surrounding them staring at the bizarre spectacle.

India Mendez and Jason Glover didn't speak. They didn't hang out. They didn't even have friends in common. At least, that's what the public had always thought. She was sure that within minutes it would be all over the city that the two most notorious children of the most powerful men had been seen together.

In silence, they studied one another. India wasn't going to be the first to speak. He had come to her, so she would wait for him to make the first move. He didn't, though. Instead, he sat back in Wren's seat, the chair turned slightly off to the side so his legs could cross comfortably. The way he lounged back, elbow resting on the table, hand finding its home halfway towards her, was one of haughty arrogance. He knew he held her attention, and she hated that he did.