Page 153 of Top Shelf

Elise studies him for a long moment. I can’t read her expression, but I know Ronan well enough to understand his. He is not bluffing.

Finally, she inhales through her nose and smooths a nonexistent wrinkle from her dress. “I see.”

Under his breath, Lucian mutters, “Do you?”

I elbow him lightly.

He doesn’t look remotely sorry.

Elise’s gaze snaps toward him, then returns to Ronan. “We will discuss this later.”

“No,” Ronan says. One word. Calm. Final. Ronan steps slightly closer to me, his hand settling at the small of my back again. This time, it is not subtle. “If you want to discuss donor seating, campaign messaging, or the charity auction, I’m happy to help. If you want to talk about Wren like she’s a problem, we’re done.”

My throat tightens.

Elise looks at him for several seconds. Then, slowly, her expression shifts into something polished again. Political.

“Enjoy the evening,” she says perfunctorily.

Ronan nods once. “We intend to.”

She turns and moves back into the crowd like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just watch her son choose me in a room full of people.

For a moment, none of us speaks. It’s Lucian who breaks the ice.

“If I’d known these things were so exciting, I’d have come when you first started inviting me.”

A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.

Ronan gives him a flat look. “Really?”

“What? While I prefer a bloodbath style execution, I have respect for that political version.”

Silas snorts.

Ronan sighs, but the corner of his mouth softens.

I look up at him, emotion lodged somewhere painful beneath my ribs. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes,” he says simply. “I did.” Staring down at me, he adds, “And I’d do it again. I will choose you. Every. Single. Time.”

And the thing is, I believe him, because he says it like choosing me in public is the easiest decision in the world.

For the first time tonight, I don’t feel like I’m walking into enemy territory.

I feel like I brought my army.

After Elise leaves, we move further into the fundraiser, even though I’m pretty sure all any of us wants to do is leave.

But something inside me has shifted. For the first time since arriving, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to go wrong.

I feel…steady.

Ronan’s heat envelops my back as we move through the room, a warm reminder that I’m not alone. Not anymore. Lucian remains on my right, periodically stealing food frompassing trays, while Silas stays on my left, quiet and steady as a shadow.

A few people stop Ronan to congratulate him on his draft season. Others recognize his mother and attempt to use him as a bridge to political introductions.

To his credit, he handles every conversation with effortless charm.