When Jacob calls, Nick doesn't pick up.

He knows what Jacob's going to say and he waits to let the call ring itself out. But as soon as it does, Jacob calls again, persistent. Nick can feel his impatience and he knows that Jacob's not going to stop so he reaches out for his phone gingerly.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU."

Letting out a slight hiss between his teeth, Nick winces. "Before you –,"

"ARE YOU CERTIFIABLY INSANE."

"Okay, I –,"

"You said you were done with Mitchell!" Jacob shouts through the phone, his voice echoing loudly.

Nick's jaw sets. "I had to send him a message," he says and he's never been so sure of himself. "Had to remind him that I can't be messed with, just because I've moved."

Jacob pauses for a while, letting his words sink in properly. When he speaks again, his voice is slightly calmer. "What did he do?"

"He attacked my mum's business," Nick says. "One of the warehouses. Black feathers all over the place, she said. You think I'm going to sit pretty when he's making an outright threat against me, against my mum?"

"So you mess with his?" Jacob thunders. "Mitchell doesn't like his stuff messed with, Nick! You're going to get yourself killed. You're going to get me killed!"

"Does he suspect me yet, then?" Nick asks.

Truthfully, Nick's not scared of Mitchell or any of his cronies. His reputation on the streets had marked him out as the lone wolf, the one whose wrath you don't risk, and he and most of the gangs had had some semblance of an understanding between them all. If anyone tried to fight him, it's the last mistake they'd ever make. Mitchell knows he's not to be messed with and in spite of anything Nick could ever say or do, Mitchell wouldn't dare to lose face by attacking Nick.

Plus Jacob's a hulking guy, just like him.

They can take care of themselves.

Jacob pauses again. "Not yet," he says, thoughtful. "But when the shipments stop coming in, he's going to know it's you. You're the only one who knows all about that drug address stuff he works with, Nick. He's going to know."

"Good. I'm counting on it." Nick smirks to himself.

"Nick?"

"What?"

"Whatever you're planning, whatever you're doing," Jacob says, letting out a sigh, "don't push Mitchell too far."

"I got it under control, Jakey."

*

He's got the vaguest sensation that he's not really supposed to be here.

It could be Madison's dark glare that lingers on him, the she-devil scowling at him so hard Nick thinks he'll burst into flames. Nick hands the butler his embossed invitation smugly, shoots her a very pointed smirk, and steps into the party.

It's really well organised, he'll give her that.

The ballroom is all wrapped up in this classy black and gold colour and usually, you'd think that all the streamers and the balloons and the touches of glitter scattered about the place would be tacky, but it's not. Like most things Madison touches, it's beautiful. All the kids from school are here but they're dressed like princes and princesses from different eras, as the invitation had decreed.

For his part, Nick had promptly deemed the theme as utterly stupid and had only thrown on a suit at the last minute.

His mother is somewhere around, talking to people about the Carroway problems, but Nick has already got that sorted. Nick only wanted to come here because he knew that just seeing his handsome face would rile up Madison like nothing else.

And he does so like riling up the ice queen.

She is walking to him, glowing in the soft gold light of the room, her fingers holding up her glass. She looks amazing, Nick thinks traitorously. Dressed in a pale green lace dress that fits snugly over her narrow waist and ripples all around her like waves, Madison looks so beautiful it hurts. It's a shame there's so much bite in her bark.

Madison rakes an unimpressed gaze over him but Nick sees something flicker within the lights of her eyes.

"I see you're still breathing," Madison says to him evenly. "How unfortunate."

"Now, who let you out of your cage?" Nick deadpans.

"Try not to beat up any of my guests tonight –," Madison begins to snip back, but a shadow falls over them suddenly.

Nick watches a startling change overcome Madison.

Her back straightens, her fingers tighten briefly around the stem of her wineglass, and she smiles so prettily that Nick is almost blinded. She lifts her head, something unfamiliar and hopeful within the light of her eyes.

"Mother," Madison says almost breathlessly, as if she's addressing real royals.

The woman in front of them looks almost exactly like Madison, though her features are clearer cut. Her cheekbones are high and sharp like diamonds, her ice-blue eyes narrow on her daughter. "Madison," she says, and Nick almost shivers. "The canapés. What did you do to them?"

If he wasn't standing so close to Madison, Nick thinks he might never have noticed it. As it was, he is standing next to Madison and so, he can see the faint pink blush that begins to crawl over her cheeks and the way her eyes widen slightly. Nick feels discomfort and guilt lurch within his stomach. He knows this scene.

She's trying to impress her mother with herself.

Wondering why on earth he's doing this, Nick clears his throat. He lets out a laugh of embarrassment, giving a quick, apologetic smile. "You'll have to forgive me, Ms Sutton," he says charmingly. "I ate all the canapés – they were just so good."

Madison looks like she's going to kill him with her heels. Nick knows what it is – he's exactly the same. She doesn't like being indebted to someone. But this is not him offering her a favour – Nick doesn't really know what it is, but he knows that something about the muted panic flickering in her features makes him feel slightly protective.

Ms Sutton does not look like she believes him but her gaze falls on him, interested and inquisitive. "And you might be...?"

"Mother, this is Nicholas Hawthorne," Madison says, her voice tight. Despite her voice, she looks as perfect and charming as ever, but Nick recognises the light within her eyes and knows that she's thinking of how she would dearly love to strange him to death. "He's a student in my classes."

"Oh?" Ms Sutton looks interested. "Which class?"

"History," Madison replies, just as smoothly. "I helped him with his Marie Antoinette essay. Nick, do you remember?"

Her eyes are flashing towards him meaningfully and Nick, startled, nods quickly. He remembers the Marie Antoinette essay from the class. The history teacher, Nick remembers thinking, had been particularly, strangely lenient that day because he hadn't had any complaints or anything. And that had been a crap essay.

Come to think of it, most of the teachers have stopped going after him, though he still has that special connection with Mr Bates. His gaze falls on Madison wonderingly, the realisation dawning with a slight jolt.

It's her.

She did it, he realises.

He helped her, so she helped him back.

Nick's not sure how to feel about that.

Madison's eyes are bright and a poised smile plays about her face but he can respect her for it now. There are no debts to clear between them now for both have risen to the occasion magnificently. All sides are evened out. Goddamn, how is she so good at playing the game?

Blissfully unaware of the power play game of chess her daughter and he is mentally waging between them, Ms Sutton is smiling at him politely. "You're a very well-mannered gentleman, Nicholas," she tells him and Nick stops himself from shivering just in time.

That's twice, now.

People need to stop telling him that, he thinks. He's going to get a rash or something.

Nick just smiles a pained smile as both mother and daughter excuse themselves gently, the canapés forgotten between them. They melt away quickly into the party and Nick's gaze lingers on the pale green silk that trails in the air behind Madison.

God, he thinks, his head beginning to pound.

He needs a drink.

*