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“But…?”
I shook my head. “There’s no but. She’s been helping me work on the King situation. I could wish she would distance herself, but…” That wasn’t happening. “Now there’s this masquerade coming up.”
“The Reed party,” he said easily.
“Of course you know…” I grimaced.
“Yes, and I already RSVP’d that I wouldn’t be there this year. Mom isn’t up for it and Hellspawn is on the road, but—” He paused and I went another couple of steps before I pivoted to face him.
“What?”
“Do you need us there?”
“Ivy doesn’t need to be anywhere near him.” The knee-jerk response was there. To stand between everything and Ivy. “I can’t say that I wouldn’t mind seeing her, nor would Mayhem, but there’s—” I went back over the charts Mayhem had been building, the family trees and connections. “I think there’s a lot more to this party than just a party.”
“Probably,” he exhaled. “Parties are social cover for a lot of business—above board and beneath the table. Negotiations, machinations, affairs, secret business deals—it all happens at these events. It’s like a rave meets a street race, only dressed in fancy clothes and drinking more expensive booze.”
“King will probably be there.” King. My father. The man who abandoned Ivy and me only to show up now for some fucked up reason. Liam had worked for him for years, fishing for info long before we knew the King’s identity. Only that for some reason he was interested in the Vandals, in me—and in getting rid of me.
What he wanted now?
I had no idea, but I wanted to find out.
Then make sure he never fucking got it.
“I would imagine. Julius King has kept a circumspect social profile. The more we’ve dug into him the more obvious it becomes that he set up the Royals, and pulled all the strings behind the scenes. The why—” Liam spread his hands. “Power. It always comes down to power. He still trying to make up with you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s doing. I can’t get a read on his game. He talks to me like we’re close, or should be. Periodically, he throws advice at me—like I want or need it.”
“It’s the Reed’s party, that means Adam will be there. I can call him, make sure he watches your back.”
I shook my head. “I’d rather he kept his boy Graham under control.”
Liam raised his eyebrows. “What’s Ezra doing?”
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t trust him—and yes, I know he came through for us and for Ivy. He got shot in the process. I was there. I don’t like how he looks at Mayhemorhow he treats her.” I could live with his envy and his lust. But it was something else altogether in how he circled her.
“He’s got a thing for her,” Liam pointed out unnecessarily. “And he doesn’t like that you’ve shown up and poached.” At my glare, he grinned and raised his hands. “Look, I get it. Finding out Adam proposed to Hellspawn at one point was enough to make me want to break his jaw. Ezra’s an ass—he excels at it. Don’t let him push your buttons, ‘cause the minute he knows he can—you’ve lost.”
Folding my arms, I sighed and shook my head. “What am I doing? I’m no closer to finding out King’s endgame or even why he wanted me in prison. He wanted you to kill Adam for proposing to Ivy—” I hadn’t forgotten that little salient piece of information. “But he’s accepted your marriage to her and—he’s keeping his distance.”
“Not going to lie, I think that’s more her than us,” Liam said. “She’s refusing to bend in any way to him and her loyalty to you is absolute. I think if you two ever work it out, she might consider it, but she is so angry with him for what his absence did to you.”
I didn’t quite grind my teeth, but my eyes burned and I had to blink them fiercely. I blamed him for her being adopted by the damn Sharpes—for what happened to her in their care. For the hell she survived.
“I get it,” Liam said, gripping my shoulder. “I get it. Tell me what you need…”
Dropping my chin, I fisted all that emotion and barricaded it behind the door I’d had to lock up all my reactions behind. Growing up in the homes, we couldn’t afford to be seen as troublemakers, that meant muting responses. You got away with more at school and in business if you were seen as easy-going. And prison? Prison didn’t forgive weakness.
This world I was floundering in now didn’t either.
“Tell me about Venetian Balls and what I need to do at one…”
“How much do you know?” No laughter or judgment marked the inquiry, just a straightforward question. At my bland look, he smirked. “We’re going to need food—and probably alcohol for this. When do you have to be back?”
I checked my watch. “I need to head that way in about four hours.”
“Four hours—we can do a lot in four hours.”
