Finally, River shakes his head. “No. Not even a small connection. I doubt she’s ever even been to a nightclub.”
Jenson sits forward. “Let me get this straight. You met a random girl—,”
“Briar,” River says quietly. “Briar Rose.”
Briar Rose.
Jenson pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s trying to restrain himself. “Fine. Briar Rose. And she’s apparently sweet, and quiet, and presumably has no idea about the fucking underbelly of this city that we live our whole damn lives in. And you think she’s about to sign an agreement to fuckall three of us– under our fucking conditions?”
I press my lips together, not moving when River glances at me in a silent plea for help. I’m still turning her name over in my head, surprised at how much I like the sound of it.
Briar.
“Come and meet her,” River pushes out, his eyes on Jenson. We all know he’s the one who’ll need convincing. “We don’t have to say a damn thing. Just… meet her, alright? I have to pick up my jacket tomorrow.”
But Jenson is studying River. “You like this girl.”
River likes many girls. All sizes, all shapes. He loves women, and they love him. But there’s something new in the way that he says her name.
As if she matters.
And from the expression in Jenson’s eyes, he knows it. “This arrangement is temporary, Riv. Remember?”
“I know.” River looks resolute. “It’s going to be her. You’ll come?”
Jenson sits back in his chair, glancing at me. “Your call.”
It’s not, not really. But I nod.
“Fine.” Jenson’s jaw is tight as he drains the dregs of his bourbon. “Let’s go and meet this girl that has you wound up in fucking knots. Color me curious as to what kind of woman can bring River Huxley to his damn knees.”
“Not everyone is Katherine.” River’s words bounce around the room, the quiet tone steady even as he blows open a box that Jenson keeps locked up tight. “And you are not your father.”
“Fucking hell.” Jenson stands, but he doesn’t look at us. “She’s just a girl. Even if she agrees, it’s not forever, River.”
But it’s River’s face that I’m watching. And Jenson doesn’t see the shadow that crosses it at his words, but I do.
I think we’re in trouble.
Jenson’s mood goes from bad to worse on the way out. He’s making his way to the bar when a woman almost crashes into him, before he deftly ducks out of the way. His whole body stills. “Get away from me, Mal.”
Mallory laughs, a little too shrill. It makes me cringe. Over Jenson’s shoulder, her eyes meet mine, narrowing into beady slits before they relax, widening innocently as she backs up, her hands wiggling as if she’s taunting him. “C’mon, Jenson. Blow off some of that steam with me.”
I can see the tension in his spine a mile away. So can she, a hint of nervousness in her expression that she smooths away. It disappears beneath the heavy layers of make-up. Mal’s gone all out tonight, more skin than dress in her latest attempt to hold Jenson’s attention. The triangles holding her in place are a bright, toxic-looking green. She even glows under the club lights.
Like toxic waste.
She’s fighting a losing battle, but she doesn’t give up. I might even feel sorry for her, if she wasn’t such a raging bitch.
Beside me, River’s words are low. “We need to ban her permanently.”
We should have done it months ago, but we’ve all been distracted with the territory arrangements.Didn’t you ask R to do it?
His hands fly in response, abrupt with his irritation.He didn’t.
So she fucked her way out of it, and Rod paid the price. River doesn’t take disobeying instructions lightly.
Jenson grips her wrist when she reaches for him again, his voice like ice. “Do not touch me.”
