If they got a rise out of you—if they pinpointed your weakness—then they had you.
Well, fuck them back in County then. And fuck Laurence Hill now.
“Yes, family is important,” he said, conjuring up an image of his mother and his grandmother to keep his voice even.
Without his conscious permission, another picture wavered in his mind. Of Kenan and him standing in the library of that Beacon Hill monstrosity Cain called a home, supporting their older brother as he purged an old wound about their abusive bastard of a father.
Familywaseverything.
“There you are, darling.” Cherise Hill sailed up to their trio, beautiful in a gold cocktail dress. She threaded her arm through her husband’s and smiled at Achilles. “Mr. Farrell, it’s wonderful to see you again. Do you mind if we call you Achilles? After all, there are so many of you Farrells now. It could get confusing.” She chuckled.
God, these people.
“Achilles is fine.”
“Mom, Dad, if you don’t mind, I’m going to give Achilles a tour of the house and introduce him to the other guests.” Mycah mimicked her mother’s hold and weaved her arm through Achilles’s. “Excuse us.”
Not waiting for their reply, she led him past her parents and down the corridor. They passed a curving staircase, a wide fireplace with a sitting area and several doorways that opened to luxuriously appointed, empty rooms. Tension emanated from her, and just as they paused in front of the entrance to a room filled with milling, formally dressed guests, she turned to him, tilting her head back and pinning him with a dark, unfathomable stare.
“Why are you here?” she asked, tone low, almost vehement. “Why would you come here tonight?”
He didn’t pretend to misunderstand her questions.
“Because she didn’t want me to.”
Mycah blinked. Exhaled a breath that ended on a short, humorless chuckle.
“It amazes me how certain people continue to underestimate you,” she said to herself, shaking her head. Then, pasting a replica of her mother’s hostess smile on her mouth, she waved a hand toward the room. “Ready?”
No. Not in the least.
“Lead the way.”
Stepping into what Mycah had called a great room, he couldn’t rid himself of the sense of being on display. He’d once accused Mycah of staring at him like he was an animal in a zoo. He’d been wrong. As he circled this room with Mycah guiding him from person to person, group to group, he sympathized with those caged beasts. Felt the weight of curious, assessing eyes. Heard the murmurs and whispers. The three months in society with his brothers had taught him how to hold his own with polite small talk, but that didn’t make it any less suffocating.
And Mycah had remained by his side through it all.
That had surprised him. He’d expected her to make a few introductions then leave him to mingle as she knew far more people in attendance than he did. But she didn’t. She’d stayed glued to his side, refusing to abandon him.
The last person who’d done that had been his mother, when he’d been in jail.
He jerked his thoughts from going down that road.
He might be thankful to Mycah in this moment, but she had nothing in common with his mother. Nothing in common with him. They were from two different worlds. Wanted different things. All he had to do was look around this house to see what was important to her, to her family.
All of which he wanted nothing to do with.
“Does that happen often?” Mycah asked, passing him the whiskey he’d requested from the bartender.
“What?” He accepted the drink, sipping the amber alcohol and welcoming the burn it left in his throat and stomach.
“That.” She dipped her head toward the small group of men they’d just left. “When you meet people, they use the opportunity to engineer a meeting with Cain or extract information about him.”
He considered her over the rim of the tumbler, taking another sip. “Often enough.” All the time.
“It pissed me off. As if your whole identity is comprised of being Cain Farrell’s brother.” Her full, sensual mouth thinned. “As if you’re not a brilliant software developer and designer in your own right who was courted by one of the most popular and successful computer systems design companies directly out of college. You’ve won numerous industry awards and cash prizes that total more than five million dollars. Hell, you were a millionaire before you even arrived in Boston. But they don’t bother to learn that about you. All they care about is your last name and who your brother and father are,” she fumed, fingers fisting her wineglass.
Achilles stared at her, shock ricocheting through him.
