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“I have friends. In fact, I’d like to go to my friend’s birthday party next month. I was supposed to be away at school. But I’m home, so I’d like to go.”
My jaw twitches. Friends. Birthday party. Grunting, I say, “Where is the party?”
“Solo, in Manhattan.”
“The dance club where there’s a shooting every other weekend? No.”
She slams down her empty mug. Surprisingly, it doesn’t shatter. “You can’t keep me a prisoner in this house.”
“That’s precisely what you are.”
“You said I’m a queen.”
I hiss a laugh and move toward her. “What queen do you know freely comes and goes without bodyguards and a meticulously vetted schedule?”
“Seriously, I can’t attend Sam’s birthday party?”
“Who the fuck isSam?”
“Samantha,” she barks back and rolls her eyes at me.
That little move makes me want to bend her over one of these stools and spank her. “I’m sorry, no.” I lower my head and collect my thoughts. “Isabella, once again, someone blew up your house and killed your mother. You’re a smart girl. If you want me to respect you, you have to earn that by not being a brat.”
“I don’t know how I’ll be respected if you keep going to a sex club.” Shit, she hadn’t forgottenthatrage confession.
Patricia gasps in the walk-in pantry.
“My club is my business.”
“Calder is waiting outside with your car, Kieran.” Patricia breaks into the conversation, saving me from myself.
“Do you want to eat something before we go?” I ask Isabella.
“Someone was nice enough to leave me a fruit plate.” She sends a smile at Patricia. “I’m good for now. What about you?”
“I had a protein shake right after my workout this morning.”
“Where do you work out?”
“Basement gym.” I strut up to her and grip her chin. “Another concession. You are free to use it, too.”
“Are you saying I’m fat and need to work out?”
I huff a laugh. “Not at all. In fact, I like those curves on you.”
She touches herself and blushes. “That reminds me, what size is your mother’s wedding dress?”
“I have no idea.” I push a hand through my hair, already feeling sweat on my scalp. “Shea will have it altered for you.”
Patricia cackles a laugh in the corner.
I still haven’t told my mother what’s going on. I pray she and my father won’t pull any last-minute vetoes and interrupt the fake wedding of the century.
CHAPTER TEN
Isabella
Kieranstaysonhisphone for most of the drive to Manhattan. It’s a short ride across the bridge, but a guard sits in the front passenger seat with the driver.
