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CHAPTERFOUR
VINCENT
“Tell me again why we’re here?” Finn asks beside me, as we stand in the grand doorway of the Rosenberg Hotel ballroom, the aroma of fresh flowers and vanilla assaulting me as I watch the Queenscove’s elite stealing glances at us, as they’re socializing.
I wish I could tell him the real reason I insisted on being here, why I can’t fathom being anywhere else, because I want to make sure she fucking looks me in the eyes when they tell the world why we’re truly here. The sadist in me needs to kill them all and burn this fucking place to the ground, but the masochist seems unable to save my fucking heart from breaking all over again. I thought I had time… I really thought I had more time.
“Holt. No one but us could get information out of him. Plus, he’s going into business with O’Rourke, and if he knows the information too, then we need to be here.” I don’t turn as I reply, my eyes running through the crowd, registering as many people as possible. I would say I’m scanning for enemies… but in reality, there aren’t any allies here.
“Can’t we just tie them to a chair and extract it the old-fashioned way?” Madds chuckles next to me. I don’t need to look to know that chuckle hasn’t registered on his grave features. I don’t quite remember the last time the man’s face contorted into a smile. Not even sure it can do that anymore.
“We all know the answer.” I would love to, and we will eventually because O’Rourke, that goddamn son of a bitch, deserves my fucking fury tenfold, and Ryan… I’m starting to believe he may deserve just as much.
I take a step in, and I don’t miss the communal twitch in the crowd’s flesh at the movement. Like a pack of gazelles that noticed the lions moving toward them.
“So we’re socializing.” Finn sighs.
“We are. O’Rourke is desperate to get into business with us, and by association, Holt is too. If we play our cards right, we’ll find out not only what we need to know about Boseman, but why they’re so desperate too. He is involved somehow… I don’t know how, but the motherfucker is playing us.” As we walk through the middle of the crowded space, people don’t fail to make room, most keeping their gazes away, and I see O’Rourke and his wife noticing us.
No daughter…Considering her permanently pristine look, she’s probably in the back somewhere, making sure there’s no thread loose on her dress, any bit of makeup out of place, or loose strand of hair. I stopped the internal eye roll from reaching my face a bit too late. I don’t remember her ever being so… anal about her looks, but I guess a long time has passed. I would much prefer to see her disheveled, runny makeup, wild hair… tangled limbs between my sheets.
“I’m struggling to figure out what the connection between Holt and Boseman is… How would they know each other, orofeach other?” Finn continues, pulling my thoughts from that dangerous direction.
“Well, that’s why we’re here. This whole thing gives me a really bad vibe, and we need to get our foot in it. These sons of bitches can’t move without us knowing about it.” Madds finishes just as we approach O’Rourke.
“Gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us!” His enthusiasm appears to be genuine, and I resist the urge to cock an eyebrow.
If I didn’t know any better, I would say he completely forgot our past, what she did, or maybe he thinks I did. No, he’s just feigning ignorance since he now has something to gain from me, from us; no one forgets something like that. I think the party we were invited to about five months ago was to test the waters, to observe my reaction to him, and now he’s diving all the way in.
One by one, he shakes our hands, pulling Finn’s attention from some blond in a skimpy skirt, which seems to have momentarily distracted him. We all nod to his wife, a woman in her early fifties, wearing a form-fitted dark blue dress that’s just… too much. Too sparkly, too overfilled with lace details, too flashy and most likely an intentional choice. They’re the type of people who have this burning need to stand out at all times. What definitely stands out is the look O’Rourke gives her every time she touches that high neckline, which could definitely do with a little tucking down to give her some room to breathe.
“Thank you for inviting us, and congratulations to you both.” At those words, Mrs O’Rourke winces and internally I do as well. It stung to say it. Her husband though, he tries to keep a straight face.
“Thank you.” He nods, the movement a bit staggered.
It’s a power move. He needs to understand that no matter how small or insignificant the information, we will find it. This particular information though, left a far too bitter of a taste on my tongue. It lingers… heavily.
“Sheila will take you to your table.” He nods toward his wife, and she scrambles into compliance. “I do hope we can have a… drink together later. Enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”
The tables are all round and of various sizes, from four to ten seats, and luckily, we are led to one which sits four.Good.Mrs O’Rourke moves away shyly after we thank her, and I can’t help but wonder what the woman’s life is like at home. There’s something too familiar about the dynamic between her and her husband.
Gripping the wooden frame of the chair, I pull it away and freeze. I see her red, silky hair first, flowing in large waves around her alabaster skin, bouncing with each slow step. The tips of her strands touch the V-neckline that plunges low between her breasts, the black satin dress held only by two thin straps, covering just enough that you want to beg for more. The smooth fabric of the knee-length dress clings to her curves without being tight, and in proper Morrigan fashion, instead of the pumps the women around us wear, the high slit reveals the end of thigh-high leather boots.
Never in my life have I noticed all these details in the way a woman dresses… yet I always do with her. And I was right… perfect. No hair out of place, pristine.
Someone clears their throat, pulling me out of that enticing distraction, and when I look to the left, Finn has a stupid grin plastered on his face. Maddox glances at her, but his expression never changes, and Carter sits down, one eyebrow raised, aimed at me.
“She’s off limits, man. Especially now,” Finn whispers as we all take our seats.
There are no limits when it comes to Morrigan O’Rourke.
I swipe my gaze back to the redhead, her steps light as she heads toward her parents, arm curled around Holt’s, her green eyes stern. Only the look in them shifts in an instant the moment they fall on me. Surprise flickers for a split second, before irritation takes permanent residence, and I hold it. I hold that gaze because I know it’s a challenge. She would rip her eyes out before she would submit to me. And isn’t that fucking fun.
Her nostrils flare when she approaches her parents and has no choice but to look away, and I can feel a tinge of a grin on my lips.
“Jesus, she looked like she could gut you right here, right now.” Finn smirks.
“Knowing her… she probably would,” Madds continues as he takes the Bourbon bottle from the waiter that intended to only fill his glass.
