Page 86 of Rush

Philippa smiles proudly, chest puffed out. “No—we own it.”

“And bywe—she means his royal highness Mortimer Montgomery,” I mutter under my breath.

“You’ll behave?” she asks again quietly, her voice hesitant, like she needs to believe I mean it.

I tug my coat tighter, meeting her gaze.

“I’ll be good,” I mutter. “For you.”

“And for yourself,” she adds gently.

Riley coughs into her hand—loud, deliberate. “Liar.”

I don’t bother turning, just throw a slap behind me that doesn’t quite land as she bursts into laughter.

Luca pulls smoothly to a stop at the estate’s grand entrance. Staff in black coats and gloves line up to greet us, ready to whisk our luggage away. In the mirror, I see Broderick’s SUV pull up close behind.

The door opens, but I hesitate, tugging my sunglasses down to take in the scene—stone steps, wrought-iron fixtures surround the windows.

Philippa touches my arm lightly as I swing my legs out, her voice low. One last warning.

“Angel,” she says.

I flash her a smile that feels a little too sharp. “Halo’s on.”

But as my heels crunch against the gravel driveway, my chest tightens. This would be the first time I’ll see my father since Alex and I broke up.

And I’m not sure I could stomach the smugness of his I told you so.

Riley slips out beside me, tugging her coat tighter as she nudges me with a playful grin. “Ready for duty, Maid of Honor?” she whispers.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As I glance up, Broderick steps out of the SUV behind us. His dark hair is tousled, like he’s just ran a hand through it, dimples bracketing that half-smirk curling his lips. Our eyes lock.

It sends a jolt straight between my thighs.

He looks like trouble.

Flashes of our hot, heavy tryst in Boston burn through my mind—impossible to ignore.

Best behavior, I breathe to myself.

Linking her arm through mine, Riley leans in, voice low and amused. “I, for one, willnotbe on my best behavior,” she says, bumping my shoulder. “Have youseenLuca? Broody Italian, dark and sexy...oft.”

The sentiment makes me laugh, and my shoulders relax a little.

“God help us all,” I murmur, eyes still on Broderick. His smile widens with that knowing look of exactly what kind of trouble he was going to have me tied up in this weekend.

The thought scares and thrills me.

I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior.

Apparently, Ravenswood Estate was built by my great-great-grandfather. It stretches across acres of parkland beside the Hudson River—sprawling gardens, grand ballrooms, an indoor pool, tennis court. It was the pinnacle of high society, boasting endless bedrooms set to host some of New York’s elite—most of whom, unfortunately, I was related to. The union of the Montgomery and Sinclair families is destined to be a grand affair, even if Philippa insisted on keeping the guest list tightly curated.

The groom’s party is placed in a separate wing of the estate, far from the bridal suite. My room is just down the hall from Philippa’s, with her bridesmaids, Avery and Sienna, flanking either side. Riley is tucked away near my father and Carole. Jack arrives tomorrow, Chris will leave in the morning to fetch him from the airport.

This place has been in our family since the Gilded Age, and yet—it’s my first time here.