Page 35 of Devil’s Promise

I shrug. It’s not like I picked it. Angel angles his head, studying me. “What are you thinking?”

From under the comforter, I pull out a single hand, gesturing for him to give me his phone.

He unlocks it and hands it over. Sitting on the bed, so I can keep the comforter around me and still communicate, I start typing:

The dress isn’t for me. This wedding is just another story for the press. I’ll be dressed for the narrative, not myself.

Angel reads my message and grimaces. “What’s the story?”

I shake my head.

You know better than me, but honestly, whatever he’s told you, it isn’t all of it. Not even close.

I hand the phone back to Angel. He reads the message, grunting.

But Gunner eyes me again. “And you’re not working some angle, blondie? You’re not trying to use my brother to get back at Daddy?”

Angel considers Gunner, his face expressionless. But he doesn’t tell his brother to be quiet. He looks as though he’s considering the possibility that Gunner is right.

I swallow down a lump. Because Gunner isn’t entirely wrong. Whatever my father has planned, it’s not going to be good for me. And for once, I’d love to turn the tables on him. In fact, it’s the reason I keep waking up every day.

I reach out my hand.

Angel hesitates before he hands back the phone.

When he smiles, he’s lying. You’ll know the one. He looks like a Ken doll. Ask all the questions and make your own decision.

Then I hand back the phone and stand, skirting around them to make my way into the bathroom. I want to be alone, maybe I even want to cry.

I could use a shower, not that I have any of my products yet, but I’m not unpacking the bags in front of them.

But as I go to close the bathroom door, Angel blocks me. I can’t meet his eye, I’m a little afraid I might cry.

I was so open with him last night and this morning…

“I’m going to make coffee and breakfast. We’ll leave you to unpack.”

My brow furrows. Does he want me to unpack in here? I thought I’d be staying in the guest room?

But all three brothers leave the room.

The garment bags are on the bed, but I start with the suitcases.

Pulling out some sweatpants, I put them on and then get to work.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Angel

I start the coffee pot, my brothers’ eyes boring into my back. I fucking ignore them.

I don’t like what Gunner insinuated, which is a real fucking problem.

Gunner isn’t the smartest man on the planet, but his instincts are spot-on. If he’s worried about Promise’s motives, then he’s likely sensing something.

But my immediate instinct is to protect Promise.

What the actual fuck?