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The perfect specimen, by all surface-level accounts, and way out of my league. Especially given the busty date pounding champagne flutes next to him, with her long black hair and massive tits. That he’s even giving me an ounce of attention when he brought her here confuses me.
“Um,” I say, pinching my eyes closed as the filler word leaves my mouth. When I open them again, I aim for nonchalance. “That’s… awkward. I didn’t know you could tell when someone side-eyes you.”
Nerves tangle in my chest as I consider how many times I’ve thought I was watching him discreetly, when really he’s probably known all along. Kill me now.
Boyd smirks, his pink lips curving up at the corners. “Learn something new every day.”
I steal a glance around the table, watching his date, Melanie, as she continues plying herself with alcohol, as if that might distract from the fact that she’s higher than a kite.
The rest of the seats are empty, my father across the room speaking to the older patriarch of the Montalto family. Kieran and our mother appear at the far end of the ballroom where the hall leads to the restrooms and other various areas of the arts center.
My brother stays close to her side as they weave through the crowd, his tall frame towering over hers.
Other than their electric green eyes, you’d hardly be able to guess that they’re related; his dark brown hair curls at the ends, his limbs long and lined with lean muscles, where her hair is the same dark red as mine, her body petite and frail.
She no longer really looks like any of us, the twitch beneath her eye symbolizing a disease that’s been ravaging her body for the last few years.
But the harsh stare, the one that’s a little too focused, designed to hide our suffering—that’s our family trait.
Heat sears my bare shoulder, and I turn my head to see Boyd leaning across Kieran’s empty seat into me, his dark gray suit setting my skin on fire where it brushes my flesh.
God, he looks sinful in a suit.
“How much do you want to bet that Mel passes out before your brother steals her away from me tonight?”
Looking at her as she swipes her hand across her mouth, I refrain from making a face. “You think he’ll take your date?”
Reaching for the glass tumbler on the table in front of him, he shrugs. “Probably. She’s here for him, anyway, and I’m only here because Murphy was supposed to take her.”
At the mention of my late older brother, my stomach deflates, a balloon of acid souring the elation caused by Boyd’s proximity.
“She couldn’t have gone with Kieran?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your brother’s been a little preoccupied lately.”
One long, inked finger points across the room, a direct line to a blonde girl I wouldn’t recognize if not for the amount of times I’ve seen her get blackout drunk on social media or the shit storm that came out about her senator father a year ago.
Juliet Harrison stands against the white wall in a silky black dress that clings to her curves, the material making her skin glow as her blue eyes stay trained on her sister and brother-in-law.
She looks immeasurably sad, like the entire weight of the universe somehow rests on her shoulders, and I can’t help wondering what the sister-in-law of a capo has to worry about.
Guilt flares in my stomach as that thought flashes across my mind, a reminder that anyone could think the exact same thing about me if they didn’t care to look hard enough.
As Kieran and our mother approach the table, I watch my brother cast a quick glance over his shoulder, as if ensuring the object of his affection is in the same spot he left her; he slides into the seat on my other side as Boyd retreats, cold air filling the space where his body was.
I blow another bubble, letting it smack loud enough to startle my mother, who sends me a look. Ignoring her, I glare at Kieran. “I knew you’d try to sneak off before the night was over.”
He adjusts the lapels of his black suit, reaching to take a sip from his wine glass. “You smell like smoke. Seems all the Ivers kids are prone to breaking promises.”
My eyes widen, sliding frantically to our mother to see if she heard that quip. Luckily, she’s lost in the soft jazz music coming from the band on stage and not paying us any mind. “I’m sorry we can’t all exercise the utmost control over our addictions.”
“You just lack adequate willpower.”
The temptation to scream at him that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about is strong as it thrums through me, singing in my blood, but I’m not supposed to cause a scene. Daddy’s orders, I remind myself, praying Boyd has suddenly lost his ability to hear and isn’t witnessing this conversation.
“Okay, dick. Maybe I have reason to be stressed. Ever think about that?”
Kieran glances my way, boredom dulling his gaze, and sets his glass on the table. I can tell he just thinks I’m being dramatic, and the realization drags rage into my throat.
