The grapevine couldn’t keep up with the drama surrounding Aunt Valentina. The twenty-something-year-old, who may or may not be a raging alcoholic, could get anything she wanted using tears that worked like Viagra for men with the primal urge to take care of a damsel in distress.
Like my Uncle Cillian, for example.
They’d been together for nearly a year. We all knew Valentina was with him for the money. Guess I related to her in more ways than one. My taste wasn’t exactlycheap.
I cringed. “Are you suggesting I be a gold-digger or an alcoholic?” I asked.
Daisy shrugged. “Both.” A laugh slipped through her lips. “Did you see her last weekend at the charity gala?”
“She’d had a few too many.” I laughed, making no attempt to give Valentina the benefit of the doubt.
“Too many? She obliterated that line the minute the tequila came out. She had at least six tequila shots, and that wasbeforethe toast. Do you think it’s just the alcohol?” She raised her brow.
I leaned in. Her voice was a tad too loud, and I panicked. Family was scattered all around. We weren’t out of earshot, and the last thing we needed was to have it handed to us.
“Well, do you?” she pushed once more.
Laughing would be inappropriate, but I couldn’t refrain. “God, no.”
“I figured as much.” Daisy suddenly wrapped her hand around my wrist and nodded toward the door, pulling me in slightly. “When did he get back?”
“Who?” I followed her line of sight, scanning the crowd of people.
She pointed discreetly to a tall figure striding across the room—the ruthless protégé, if you will. “Max.”
It had been a year since I last heard the name, which only made it a year too soon. Max was a grumpy man with nothing better to do with his time besides work for my father. He was the one my father trusted the most. Max handled all his dirty work. He was strict and demanding. I could hardly do anything without my father’s watchdog near me.
I’d never understood why my father allowed someone so drastically younger than him to be his right-hand man—that is, until I heard about what Max did. He took hearts, and Idon’tmean romantically. He certainly wasn’t a charmer. He had a pretty face though.
So maybe I’d missed him a little bit.
Max crossed the room with confident strides, ignoring anyone who greeted him. He stopped in front of my father, who gave him a stern look. Max nodded, but it didn’t seem like he was paying much attention to my father anymore. Instead it was me he was watching from across the room.
I could feel his eyes, andgosh, did they sting.
When I still lived here with my parents, Max was assigned as my bodyguard, my mentor, my babysitter—whatever the hell my father deemed necessary. He was always watching me, constantly correcting my behavior.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be watched constantly. I had Max’s attention, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I felt watched.Toowatched. Like if I made the smallest mistake, he’d remember it for later use.
Daisy excused herself when she saw him approach. Everyone here feared him. I think my father did too, though he’d sooner die than admit that. I wasn’t scared. I knew Max had a soft spot for me, even if he tried to hide it.
“Oh, goody,” I said, holding my hands behind my back. “Youagain.” I turned to face him, stopping dead in my tracks the moment his cologne—which smelled a lot like trouble and expensive cigars—hit my nose. I tilted my head back an inch just to get a good look at the man.
A slow smirk played on his lips. “Rosalie,” he greeted. His voice was just as deep as I remembered it. “Happy to see me?”
The fabric of his jacket brushed against my elbow. Goose bumps erupted on my exposed arms, prickling even beneath the smooth fabric of my yellow dress.
My eyes lingered on him, unable to be torn away. His face held the same sharp angles I remembered, the strong nose that was the perfect counterpart to his high cheekbones, and his beard, neatly trimmed and clean-shaven, framed his rugged jawline.
Then there was that smile of his. It was too damn crooked.
“Happy might be the last thing that comes to mind when I think of you,” I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.
“But you do think of me.” He looked back down at me.
I stood still, looking into his eyes. They were dark brown. They werepretty.
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
