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“It’s not a gossipy employee,” I say without thinking.
Their heads whip to me.
“You know who it is?” Eliot arches a brow. “Do tell.”
“It’s…” I struggle to release the truth. “My dad.”
Beckett’s face drops. “What?”
“My dad is the inside source, or maybe your dad is. I think Uncle Connor is helping. It’s a whole publicity stunt thing…” I mutter, going quiet under their intense stares.
The murmuring bodyguards behind me are causing my cheeks to heat. I peek over my shoulder at the Wreath brothers, expecting to seeconfusion. I search their faces, and they seem irritated.
They know.
Security has to be aware of what’s happening today with Donnelly’s coffee meet-up with his dad and the media, and maybe these guys are a little peeved that I’m in on a supposed “security” plan. To them, Donnelly is just another bodyguard. He’s nothing to me.
“Your dad, our dad,” Eliot muses. “Why would they do this?”
“Spill, Luna,” Tom says.
“Where’s Charlie?” I ask Beckett, trying to avoid. Maybe Beckett can leave naturally? Maybe he has somewhere to be. Maybe I won’t have to say these words in front of him.
“Paris,” Beckett says casually. “He left after seeing Maeve at the hospital. Why would your dad plant that story on Donnelly?”
My throat becomes suddenly hoarse. “Like I said, it’s a whole publicity thing…” The air feels warmer. “Um…he has a plan to make it safe for Donnelly to…”
Date me.
“To…?” Tom has a quizzical look. “What? He’s making it seem like Donnelly will befiredby Christmas so…it’ll appear like he won’t be abuddyguard anymore?” It’s a good guess. An educated guess, actually.
“Yeah,” I say into a nod. Why am I such a fucking liar? I blink back that thought before it truly punctures me.
“Beckett,” Ian calls out, not too far away that he’d need to shout. “The tailor is done for the day. You three are going to have to reschedule.”
Beckett seems unphased. To his brothers, he says, “I’m rescheduling to come in with Charlie. I’m not doing this again with you two. I took my lunch break to be here, and I don’t have three hours to waste.”
“Fine by me,” Eliot says.
“Whatever,” Tom mutters, his eyes pinned to me. “There has to be more, right?”
Eliot skims me up and down. “There is definitely more.”
I rock on the balls of my feet and tug at my hoodie strings, doing a not so good job at looking innocent. Mostly because Idowant to gush the truth to them. I glance at Beckett, intimating that maybe I don’t want to spill in front of him.
Beckett barely blinks. “They tried to swing a bat at hisskull. O’Malley’s lucky they only broke his ribs and wrist. He barely made it out without permanent head trauma because of Donnelly’s family. And I know you’re Donnelly’s friend, but I think I know him a little better than you, so whatever’s going on, I want to know.”
My stomach twists. Am I…jealous? Because why do I want to tell Beckett that I slept with Donnelly like I’m one-upping him? Why do I want to claim Donnelly? But really, I wish Donnelly were here to claim me.
Neither can happen right now.
A pit is sinking in my stomach, and I open my mouth to reply—just as the door begins to open. My heart skips several beats.
Like I conjured him from my greatest desires, in walks Paul Donnelly.
13
PAUL DONNELLY
