So, of course, I’d been a real shit. Made fun of her hair, her clothes, her speech—pretty much anything that marked her as different from the world of gilded bullshit we all came from. I was petty and jealous and maybe a little bit guilty, which was why I didn’t even balk when Brendan all but confessed to murdering two of the men who had kidnapped Simone. It was also a solid part of the reason I hadn’t argued when he sent me to Vegas to track down the third and finish the job.
Three weeks ago, I’d thought Brendan was crazy to take such a risk for a personal connection, even if our father had asked me to do as bad or even worse to protect our family fortune. Still, the line had always been clear. For billions, anything was acceptable, a twisted take on social Darwinism that translated “survival of the fittest” into “kill or be killed.” But for something as flimsy as love? Never.
Now, though, just as I was about to offer Laney up as fresh meat to the hyenas, I sort of got it. The rage that generally simmered well below the veneer of my jokes was dangerously close to the surface. My little interaction with her ex had already proven that.
Touch her and die? Fucking hell. If anyone so much as looked at Laney wrong, I’d knock out their fucking teeth. Probably take out their kneecaps too, for good measure.
I really was a monster.
My hand opened and closed on my knee, balling into a too-tight fist. Fuck. This was going to be harder than I thought.
“Everything all right?”
I looked up to find Laney watching me now, her big green eyes offering pools of peace. For a split-second, I consideredtelling Mac to just drive. Or maybe kicking the big man out of the car and making a run for it myself. If Brendan could run away to a farm, why couldn’t I run to a Greek island somewhere? Laney could study ruins and I could translate Plato or some shit and we could feed each other olives and drink wine and fuck like rabbits on the sun-soaked terrace…
“Ronan?”
I blinked. Christ, that escalated quickly. “Ah. Yeah. Come on, let’s go.”
I led her to the side entrance, bypassing the press line that had been set up for photos. Dad wouldn’t thank me for it, and neither would the board, but I couldn’t do it. Just the idea of those vultures grilling Laney made my skin crawl.
The party was already in full swing when we entered the central courtyard, around which three tiers of museum space spiraled toward the skylights. The event planners had done a good job, stringing white lights overhead, installing a quartet in one corner, and leaving the lush greenhouse plants and trees to decorate the rest of the space. Boston’s elite milled about, drinking champagne, trading barbs, and pretending they liked each other while they searched for soft underbellies to cut open.
Laney, however, didn’t see that. As soon as we walked in, she stopped, face tilted up as she stared around. “Wow.”
I found myself looking with her. I’d been to dozens of events here, had even come on my own just to take a look at the art. But it had been a long time since I’d come to one of these parties, always held in the most ostentatious settings the Northeast had to offer, and seen anything but the darkness this world sought to hide.
“It’s a lot to take in,” I agreed. “Dad picked well. Or his assistant probably did. He only cares about his reputation, and my stepmother would have gone with something gaudy.” I cast a glance over the attendees and quickly located Violeta in a violentarray of magenta sequins. “They’re over there with my siblings. Come on, we should get this over with.”
It was the first time I felt Laney stiffen. “Brenda, Owen, and Shea, right?”
I glanced down at her. She was counting names off on her fingers. “Aw. You studied.”
“I had time on the plane.” She glanced up at me. “They’re going to hate me, aren’t they?”
I didn’t want to lie to her. But I didn’t want to tell her the truth either.
So, instead, I bent down and delivered a kiss that lasted about four seconds longer than was strictly necessary. “Not if they know what’s good for them. Otherwise, they’ll have me to deal with.” I bared my teeth like a tiger. “Brendan, Owen, and I all grew up sparring with each other, but I haven’t lost a fight since I hit my growth spurt. They know better than to fuck with the one who does their dirty work.”
Laney frowned. “What do you mean, ‘dirty work’?”
Fuck. “Nothing, baby. Come on.”
Just before we reached the corner of the party where my father was holding court, we were interrupted by my best friend’s voice.
“Ro!”
I turned to see Liam cutting through the crowd, two champagne flutes in hand. He’d gotten a new suit for the occasion, I saw. The extra money I’d paid for the contract had gone to good use. He was also wearing that shit-eating grin that meant he was about to give me hell about something. I’d overheard Shea’s friend describe it once as “boyish.” Whatever that meant.
“Don’t start.” I accepted the champagne and a slap on the back.
The grin widened. “Whatever do you mean?”
I rolled my eyes. “Laney, this is Liam Kelly, otherwise known as Fuckface.”
“Otherwise known as Ronan’s only friend and the man who writes extraordinarily well-worded contracts.” Liam leaned in to give Laney. “Laney, it’s a pleasure to meet the woman who finally tied this one down.”
“Contract?” Laney blinked between us as a flush pinked her cheeks prettily. “You mean the postnuptial…”
