The inevitable dinner at the marina finally came around, and I had no choice but to attend.
My mother had grown tired of my procrastination. The excuses I’d given were nothing but a worn record skipping on its spindle. She wanted me to marry as soon as possible. She didn’t believe in my superstitions, just like Daisy.
Perhaps the third man down would give them something to believe in.
Or maybe I really was in my head about it, and it had been nothing but an awful coincidence.
Ironically, as if mocking the stagnant state of my love life, “Right Back Where We Started From” by Maxine Nightingale played over the speakers. The distant chatter of my family was barely audible with the harsh squeals of the gulls swooping above me. The salty tang of the sea air whipped the bottom of my dress to the side. My hair went along with it, flying in my face, clinging to the wet cherry gloss I wore on my lined lips.
The marina was my family’s chosen venue for dinners like these, clearly nothing but an excuse for them to huddle beside the boats to handle their shady dealings.
Inside the main hall, crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and the polished floors stretched to the back wall—the one covered in Brooke’s latest collection. I was jealous of my momma. She could have anything she wanted. All she had to do was snap her fingers and my father would give in to her.
There was a chance—okay, ahighpossibility—neither Jackson nor Lucas could begin to afford Brooke’s art. The two paintings hanging in my apartment would become my complete collection if I married one of them.
Ironically, I preferred mobsters over officers for that reason alone.
The seats were filled with people wearing elegant suits and dresses, sharing champagne that cost more than five hundred a pop. Standing near the walls, people nodded their heads at one another, acting as if they were interested in the conversation, but they never were. This wasn’t about appreciation—not of any kind. This was about keeping up appearances. Sharing the latest gossip while they exchanged business cards—ones that were embossed with titles that reeked of self-importance.
“Rose?” A voice cut through the air.
I turned quickly. Relief washed over me when I found Jackson standing beside me instead of Lucas. He wore a smile that seemed genuine, and he was holding two flutes of champagne. The mere thought of Lucas, the man my mother wanted me to pick, made me want to run for the hills. I really couldn’t handle his smell.
“Hey, you,” I offered back, accepting the flute with a deep sigh. The fizzy drink held no appeal to me. I didn’t like champagne—I liked martinis with an extra olive—but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.
Suddenly, my back felt warm. I could feel the heat of someone’s stare. Across the room, a set of dark brown eyes locked onto mine. Max, who was speaking to Marco and myfather, had his attention on me. He looked annoyed, irritated, and Jackson was most likely the culprit. It seemed Max’s possessiveness knew no bounds—not even in front of his boss.
Someone needed to teach that dog how to heel.
The bottom of my heel dug into the floor, and my teeth found the inside of my cheek. I wanted to smile.Badly.
“You look beautiful in that dress,” Jackson said.
Finally, an excuse to let the smile loose. “Oh, you think so?” I asked, teasing for the sake of Max’s suffering.
“Know so.”
Hecouldbe charming, couldn’t he?
He looked tired, and I understood why. He had a two-year-old son with a woman who hadn’t turned out to be very motherly. I think my father was trying to find him a new wife, or at least someone who could take care of his kid. That was the only reason he was an option.
If I married him, that meant I’d be the one watching over his son. My life would be flipped over completely. I wasn’t ready to be a stepmom.
I was sure he’d figure it out. If not me, then maybe my sister, Daisy.
“Is your son here tonight?” I asked.
He turned his attention to the woman at a table near the corner. “He is.”
She was holding onto his son, Sebastian. He was the cutest thing ever—a carbon copy of his dad. He had the same hair, the same blue eyes, and the same dimpled smile.
Sebastian cut our conversation short by releasing a piercing scream.
“I apologize,” he said quickly.
“Don’t. Go take care of him,” I said with a smile. He turned, mirroring my expression before heading back to his son.
My gaze fell to where Max had been, but he was nowhere to be seen. It was just my father and a man I didn’t recognize.
