This time, his brows nearly hit his hairline. “Understood.”
Unfortunately, I had a feeling he did.
“And here I thought our sparring days were over.”
We both turned to find Owen approaching, dark eyes gleaming. Conscious of the fact that more than one guest was watching us now, I released Liam, and he brushed out any potential creases in his suit like nothing had happened.
“Owen,” I greeted him. “Out of curiosity, how many small children did you have to eat today to regain your human form?”
“Nice to see you too, brother.” Owen looked over the crowd with disgust. “Can you believe this shit? Brendan all but tried tosink the company. Now he and his little harlot are getting a party thrown in their honor, like it was the plan the whole time.”
Liam and I both followed his gaze to the corner of the room where Brendan and Simone were chatting with Dad, Violeta, and a few board members. Brendan looked uncomfortable in his suit—like it was a costume, not a bespoke piece that had literally been cut for his body. Living on the farm, even just for a few weeks, had changed him in other minor, yet significant ways. His hair was a bit unkempt, like he was too busy with chores for his bimonthly barbering, and his skin was ruddier and slightly windblown from time spent outside.
And yet, he looked undeniably happy. Next to him, Simone was radiant in a simple cream-colored dress, her blond hair swept up, and hand firmly in Brendan’s. My brother, who had earned the moniker of “The Black Prince” both because of his name and for the color of his soul, was all smiles as he looked down at the woman beside him. Simone was his polar opposite—golden light to his darkness, simple goodness to the complications that would forever plague a man like Brendan. And everyone in this family.
For the second time that night, I wondered what it would be like to follow in his footsteps. Take Laney and go.
I shook my head. There was no way in hell my father would ever let that happen twice. More importantly, I wanted to be CEO, didn’t I? Anywhere else, my personal demons would follow me, anyway. Besides, they weren’t the sort that could be vanquished by milking some cows, much less a girl with eyes the color of the Aegean.
Even if that was getting progressively harder to believe.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. There was a line.” Laney appeared beside me, looking refreshed and having clearly reapplied the little makeup she wore.
“Hey.” I grabbed her hand and resisted the urge to tuck her back under my shoulder, where it felt like she belonged. “Laney, this is my brother, Owen. Don’t trust anything he says.”
“Which, coming from this asshole, means I’m the only one you should trust,” Owen replied as he kissed her cheek.
I swallowed back another growl. Why did every man in this goddamn place keep trying to kiss my wife? I didn’t like it, even if it was a perfectly normal way to greet a woman.
“Nice to meet you,” she replied.
Owen looked like he was ready to deliver some of his characteristic dickheadedness, but before he could, his eyes widened as he looked over Laney’s shoulder. “Fuck.”
Liam and I both turned to follow his gaze—which was directly on a pretty woman with light brown hair weaving her way through the crowd.
“So, she showed up after all,” Liam murmured.
I turned back to Owen with a grin. “I forgot that your immortal beloved was coming tonight. This thing just got more interesting by a factor of ten.”
“Not another word,” Owen snapped.
“What’s going on?” Laney wondered.
But before anyone could answer, the woman had arrived. “Ronan. Liam,” she said in a surprisingly low, husky voice before turning to my brother. “Owen.”
Owen seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. “Jenny. You said you weren’t coming.”
Jenny shrugged. “My boss saw the invite and told me I had to go.”
At that, Owen’s eyes flared. “This is a no-press event.”
“And yet, there was a press line outside, and I’ve counted at least four other reporters here as ‘dates’,” she said as she swiped a sea bass crudo off a passing tray. “Your event planner needs todo a better job if you don’t want leaks. But knowing Niall Black, I’m guessing leaks were precisely the point.”
“Jenny’s a reporter with The Globe,” I told Laney, who was watching their interaction with curiosity. “And Owen’s girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Owen snapped. “A million fucking years ago, to be exact.”
“Actually, it’s more like eighteen, but who’s counting?” Jenny replied as she reached a hand to Laney. “Hi. Jenny Churchill.”
