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Finn lets out a low, steadying breath. “Let’s say I can pull it together, which I can even though I very muchdon’twant to, what happens if it’s not up to his standards?”
“It will be,” Robin says, putting a hand on his arm.
I stare at that arm. I stare at that arm.
And the jealousy starts screaming in my head all over again.
God, what’s wrong with me? This is so stupid. Finn’s putting himself out there to help me, and even Robin’s pitching in. All of this is for me, and here I am, feeling like a classless little child while Finn and Robin talk to each other, barely paying attention to me.
I don’t know anything about running big parties. I don’t know anyFrench delegations, much less important business people. I don’t have a black book filled with powerful names and numbers.
Robin does. That’s what Finn needs.
Instead, he’s got me, a girl from a little West Virginia town that barely escaped her family alive.
I feel so inadequate.
But I lift my chin and push my feelings away as hard as I can.
I need to be strong for Finn. I can’t make this process any harder than it’s already going to be, otherwise I’m only going to make his life that much more miserable.
If I want this to succeed, and I really do, then it’s time to grow up.
“Dara, do me a favor,” Finn says, turning away from Robin for a moment. “Find Genna for me and tell her the club’s closed next Friday. Tell her to get the Crowley captains to make an appearance. Clive will love that.”
“Right. Genna. Closed. Captains.” I glance at Robin. “You two are good?”
“We’re good,” Finn murmurs, already turning back to her as they start discussing a page in her notebook filled with scrawled names.
I turn away from them.
Chin up, head high, no pity parties today.
I march off to do my job without looking back, not even once, which feels like a win.
Chapter34
Dara
The next week is spent either at home in Finn’s apartment or in Club Hazard during the day when it’s empty save for Robin, Genna, a team of vendors, several guys from Finn’s crew including Shane, and little old me.
The jealousy fades. It doesn’t disappear—I can’t help but think that Robin would’ve made such a good wife for a guy like Finn—but it eases enough that it doesn’t bother me when they get lost in talking about people and things I’ve never even heard of before.
It helps that every night I end up in Finn’s bed with his arms wrapped around my body, his insatiable hands and mouth exploring me in ways I’ve never been explored before.
On Thursday evening, the day before the party, I lounge upstairs in the VIP area with Finn while his guys and Robin put the finishing touches on the space. I have my feet in his lap and he’s staring down at the commotion, his face unreadable.
“Looks like you pulled it together,” I say softly, leaning forward to touch his cheek.
“Barely,” he says, turning to me, forcing a smile. “But it’s happening either way.”
“You’re not happy.”
“I’m happy you’re going to be safe. That should be enough.”
“What’s bothering you?”
He hesitates, but his shoulders slump slightly as he leans toward me. “You know, all my life, I’ve been telling myself a story. In that story, I’m not only a Crowley, but a man with his own wants, and dreams, and desires. A man that can build whatever he wants with his own two hands. Now looking around, it’s so obvious how much help I’ve had.”
