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Declan
As Annabelle and I enter the ornate ballroom, I spot Murphy and Sabrina standing off to the side, next to one of the white linen-covered tables. A waiter dressed in a black tux with tails and white gloves is about to hand Murphy a glass of champagne. I might hate the press, but I’ve been schooled in it enough over the years to know they’re everywhere. And a high-profile, underage college football player cannot be photographed drinking champagne at a political fundraiser. Pressing my hand against the small of Annabelle’s back, I ignore the zing of anticipation that shoots up my arm and guide her quickly to my soon-to-be stepbrother.
Our parents got engaged two months ago, surprising us all.
Once we’re next to the waiter, I lift both crystal glasses off his tray. “These two aren’t twenty-one. You might want to get them some soda.” The poor guy glances uncomfortably between Murphy and me before walking away.
As I hand a flute to Annabelle, I hear Murphy whisper, “dick,” to which I answer back with “asshole.” In our world, these are terms of endearment. Placing my glass down on the high-top table, I look over at the asshole in question. “Don’t let anyone catch you grabbing a drink, Murph. You’re not twenty-one. You can’t be photographed like that.”
“I’m not that stupid, Dec.” Murphy smiles like the goofball he likes the world to assume he is, but I’m pretty sure he’s smarter than that. At least, I hope so. He laces his fingers with Sabrina’s, then turns to Annabelle, exaggeratedly looking her over. “Damn, Belle. You look smokin.’”
Belle twirls in a small circle and curtsies. “Why, thank you, Mr. Murphy.” She winks at him. “Looking mighty fine yourself.”
As the waiter comes back with what I’m assuming are two sodas, I take one from his tray and hand it to Sabrina. “You look very nice tonight, Sabrina.” And she does look pretty in an emerald-green ball gown with her dark hair in curls piled on top of her head. Motioning to Murph, I add, “Much too nice to be here with this oaf.”
She blushes. “Thanks, Declan. It’s nice of you to come.” Sabrina’s definitely the quiet one of that group. I guess opposites really do attract because quiet is not a word anyone would ever use to describe Murphy.
A guy walks over, underdressed in a mismatched sports coat and dress slacks and smelling like whiskey. “Sabrina. How are you, kid?” He grabs her hand and kisses it. I watch with amusement when Murphy steps forward like he’s going to throw down with this guy who looks older than our parents. Jesus, keeping an eye on him is harder than making sure Cooper didn’t get in to trouble when we were younger.
The drunk guy walks away a few minutes later with Murphy glaring daggers at him as he leaves. “Who was that?”
Sabrina spins, laughing. “Aiden Murphy. You are not seriously jealous of Pat Donovan, are you? He’s a harmless ward leader from South Philly. Nice guy, but he’s got to be forty years old, and he’s only being sweet because of my dad.”
“Aww, Murphy. Are you jealous? Who knew you could be so cute?” Annabelle is facing Murphy and giving me an unobstructed view of the creamy, soft skin of her bare back. The tiny straps look like they could snap with a flick of my fingers, and I have to fight the urge to find out.
“I am not cute, Belles.” Murph puffs up his chest, making the rest of us laugh. “I’m manly.”
“Never good when you have to announce to anyone that you’re manly, Murphy.” Dad slaps a hand down on Murphy’s shoulder and squeezes. Katherine, Dad’s fiancée and Murph’s mom, joins us, as well. She’s a pretty, older woman in her early forties with auburn hair the color of Murphy’s, wearing a red strapless dress. She seems to make the old man happy, and that’s all that matters to me.
“Be nice, Joe,” Katherine scolds my dad. She turns to Murph. “You are so very manly, sweetie.” She leans in and kisses his cheek, then she reaches over and hugs me.
“You might want to lick your thumb to get the lipstick off his cheek now, Katherine.” I try to rub his cheek, but he shoves me away.
“You all suck,” Murph announces, sulking.
Dad clears his throat and then smiles sweetly at the girls. “Sabrina, Annabelle, you both look lovely tonight. Is Nattie watching Tommy for you, Annabelle?”
Belle steps into my side giving me an excuse to rest my hand on the soft skin of her back again. “Yes. He’s supposed to be spending the night there tonight. He and Brady concocted the idea. I’m expecting to get a call when he refuses to go to sleep. He’s never slept anywhere else before.”
Katherine smiles warmly at Belle. “Annabelle, if you ever need a break, I’d be happy to have Tommy spend time with me. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know him, and I think he may have a bit of a crush on my daughter, Carys.”
“Thanks so much, Katherine. I appreciate it. I don’t really have much time for a break.” Belle laughs self-deprecatingly and glances quickly at me. “Wow, when I say that out loud, I realize how sad it sounds.” As her green eyes glitter in the low light of the ballroom, I can’t help but wonder if she’d be willing to make time for me.
“Nonsense. You have to take some time for yourself. Carys and I are moving in with Joe next week. Tommy already knows that house well. I’m sure we could make sure he was comfy and happy, and you could get a little alone time.” Katherine is pushing for her to take her up on the offer, but from what I know of Belle, she’s not good at accepting help.
Sabrina’s father joins our growing corner of the ballroom. A conversation takes place that I’m not paying attention to. Instead, I’m studying my gorgeous date. There’s absolutely no way I’m letting this night be a one and done. I’m Declan fucking Sinclair. I’ve never not accomplished something I’ve set my mind to, and I’ve waited long enough to make this move.
With a lowered voice, I lean into Belle, brushing her long hair over her shoulder. “You ready to find our table?”
She hesitates momentarily, her eyes searching my face before tipping her head back and smiling. She links her arm through mine. “Lead the way.”
I guess she found what she was looking for.
We say our goodbyes and locate our table as Scarlet Kingston approaches. She’s in a sleek black gown with a slit up the leg that would make any man look twice. Her dark hair is pulled back off her face, and there’s a calculating glint in her pale blue eyes. “Declan Sinclair. You clean up nice.” She leans over and kisses my cheek, then offers her hand to Belle. “And you must be ‘Family Friend, No NDA.’”
Annabelle takes her hand, smiling. “Can’t say I’ve been called that before. Annabelle Hart. Pleased to meet you...” She lets her voice hang until Scarlet offers her name.
Scarlet turns to me. “I like her.” Then she faces Belle. “Scarlet Kingston. Nice to meet you, Annabelle. How do you know Philly’s favorite quarterback?”
