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As she spoke, it slowly sank in what was happening here. This was master-level Margot Vola shit. In one fell swoop, with this seemingly innocent request, she was passive-aggressively reminding me that Iwouldbe getting my hair done and to make sure I had my outfit together, because she was worried I’d somehow fuck it up.Andshe was asking me to babysit Shane. Because she was worried he’d fuck up, too.
My stomach sank as I realized that somehow, in my mother’s eyes, I’d sank to Shane-level disappointment.
She saw us as… similar.
“I… I mean…” I stammered, as my aunts all looked at me. “Isn’t that more of a best man thing? Like can’t Joss wrangle the guys, and make sure they have their stuff?”
“Of course. I just thought maybe you and Shane could help each other out.”
Great. Peachy. Like a buddy system for the wayward.
“Right…”
I looked at my aunts, who said nothing. Aunt Madeleine blinked at me while she sipped her mimosa and I knew what she was thinking.Just go with it. It’s a small ask. You really want to unravel her over this?
“Is there a problem?” Mom stared at me. She’d never been a tactful mother when it came to her disappointment in me. It was in her eyes right now.Are you really going to make this difficult? Why can’t you just be a nice, obedient daughter?
“Nope. No problem at all.” I took a fresh mimosa from the elegant tray on the coffee table and enjoyed a generous sip. Really, best to just keep drinking.
Mom smiled, warmth flooding her eyes. She reached to smooth my hair, and I forced myself not to brush her hand away. “I’m so happy you’re here, Jolie. Really. I could never do this without you.”
I knew, in her heart, she really meant that.
“Yeah,” I forced out. “Whatever you need, I’m your girl.” I meant that, too.
But there was no way, under any circumstances, that I was ever walking down any wedding aisle with Shane Madrigal.
ChapterThree
Shane
“Why would you take a short notice fight like this? One that’s so close to your dad’s wedding?” My best friend, Dane, sat behind the huge, gleaming desk in his expansive office overlooking Coal Harbour, with his laptop between us and his eyes on the screen. He was typing even as he spoke.
I was pacing. I’d been bouncing off the walls all morning, even after hitting the gym.
“You should be celebrating with your family,” he went on, “and helping your dad out right now, not training around the clock.”
I grunted. “Since when do I celebrate anything with my family anymore?”
He frowned, but didn’t look at me. I’d become accustomed to having conversations with Dane Davenport while he was buried in a device, overseeing his dozens of minions who were overseeing his dozens of companies. Was still annoying as fuck.
“Okay, so, even if you’re not into the wedding stuff,” he said, “you’re gonna be in training camp and totally unavailable to him. Do you think that’s gonna hurt him a little?”
“He’s not gonna be shocked. He knows my priorities.”
“Right. Illegal fighting. Pussy. Fast cars. Getting drunk…”
“I don’t get drunk when I’m training for an important fight.”
“I forgot your motorcycles,” he added. “And whatever you do at that kinky private club you go to.”
“And you are correct. I’d much rather fuck with any of the above than spend another moment of my life playing the well-behaved adopted son at a family function just to keep Jacob Ellis’s image as father of the year intact.” Not to mention that I was not spending the next month of my life running into Jolie Vola’s sour little face at endless family functions leading up to this wedding.
“Since when have you ever played the well-behaved son?” Dane inquired.
“Well, I’ve never really run out of the fast cars and pussy so I’ve never really had to.”
“I’m really not sure how we’ve been friends this long.”
