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“I’m ready.”
I still have to look up to meet his gaze, despite the heels.
His body stiffens at my touch, and I half expect him to push me away or step back. But although his jaw stays clenched, he rests his hand over mine in the crook of his elbow and leads me from the room. There’s something so formal and gentlemanly about the gesture, so completely at odds with Ciro’s dark, tattooed appearance, that it makes my chest squeeze. Even though he doesn’t relax as we make our way down the stairs, he maintains the contact between us, and I count it as a win.
Lucas, Zaid, and Hale wait at the bottom of the steps. Just like Ciro, they’re each dressed in perfectly tailored suits, looking better than any three men have a right to. But something looks different about them tonight—they’re more relaxed, less on-edge. They all turn around when they hear us, three sets of eyes widening as their gazes rove over my body. None of them bother to hide their appreciation, and my skin flushes hot.
“Damn,” Lucas mutters, walking over to me. His green eyes burn with possessive awe as Ciro releases me and steps away. “You’re gorgeous, Grace.”
Zaid lets out a soft whistle. “Holy shit. I know Lucas calls you princess, but he’s got it wrong. You look like a fucking queen.”
“Shut up, Zaid.” I roll my eyes, my blush deepening.
He grins, his palm splaying across my lower back as he drops his head to press a small kiss to my cheek. When we break apart, I find myself looking toward Hale, who’s been silent this entire time. Even as I meet his gaze, he doesn’t say anything, but the heated look he gives me from across the foyer says enough on its own. My whole body is feverish under the touch of his eyes, but we don’t linger.
“Time to celebrate,” Lucas says, adjusting the lapels of his suit jacket. “At least one fuckin’ thing went right for once. I think that calls for a drink or two.”
17
Grace
As we step into the crowded bar, the men stay close by my side, leading me through the press of bodies.
This must really be a big night for the syndicate, because I see a lot of people I recognize from my previous life as a mafia man’s daughter. A group of older men are deep in conversation in one corner of the bar—Damian’s captains, the men he trusts most to help him run his organization. I don’t know them well, but they were good
friends of my father’s, so their faces are familiar.
When their gazes shift toward me, it’s clear they know who I am too, although the hard looks on their faces make me blanch a little. It makes sense. They were close to my dad, so his betrayal probably hit them almost as hard as it hit Damian. And although Damian’s decided to give me the benefit of the doubt for Hale’s sake, these men have no such reason to trust me.
Other eyes track our movement as we walk deeper into the bar. As the boss’s son, Hale is a fixture at these kinds of things, I’m sure. So it’s not him that’s drawing people’s attention and sparking the whispered conversations.
It’s me.
It’s us.
Traditionally, you attend events like these with your family. The people you most want by your side.
The fact that I’ve shown up with four men, one on each side of me? No one comments on it, but I know we make a statement. It’s as if I don’t belong to just one of them, but to all of them.
A warm feeling grows in my stomach at the thought, an addictive little thrill zapping down my spine. The little voice of warning inside me rises up again, reminding me not to believe this, not to get too comfortable.
But that voice is growing quieter and quieter.
We linger around the bar for a moment before Ciro breaks away, disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the room. Zaid and Lucas share a concerned look, but no one says anything. I don’t think Ciro’s that comfortable with crowds, so no one gives him shit for bailing.
“I need to find Myles,” Hale says absently, looking around the room. He taps the bar top. “I’ll be back in a little bit.” His gaze snags mine. “Will you be okay?”
I’m touched that he even thought to ask. Parties like these always involve more work than actual celebration for the higher-ups in the syndicate, so I’m not surprised he needs to speak to one of Damian’s captains. But the fact that he wants to make sure I’m taken care of only reinforces the words he said earlier.
You’re one of us now.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” I smile at him, watching his eyes warm in response. “I’ve got Zaid and Lucas.”
“We’ll keep an eye on her,” Zaid promises, his hand coming to rest on the small of my back. His tone is light as usual, but there’s something in the way he touches me that lets me know he’s being serious. These men trust their mafia brethren, but especially with the threats against me and the mole still uncovered, I doubt I’ll be left alone for even a second tonight.
I’m not sorry about that. I feel safer when the men are with me.
Hale glances at me again, a regretful look crossing his face. He drops his head, and I expect him to press a kiss to my cheek like Zaid did earlier—but instead, his warm, full lips find mine.
