"Better be," Leo grunts. "With Teddy and Miller here tonight, you need to keep this shit tight. You hear me?"
"I hear you." Teddy MacCallum, the Boss's lover, and Miller Beaumont, Jack's boyfriend, were a couple of surprise guests tonight, as far as I was concerned. Teddy comes to these shindigsat Redwood now and then, but Jack prefers to keep Miller well out of it.
I know why they're here, though. Like the wives and girlfriends who are with the Bernardis, they're a way to keep the night social instead of savage—a handful of civilized guests to keep the beasts at bay.
It's working so far. And there's one more who hasn't made an entrance yet. Wonder when she's planning that?
Leo gives me a nod and then pulls Julian away, while I give a low sigh.
It's going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 9
DARIAN
The busy clatterof the kitchen envelops me as I slip inside, my heart still pounding. Between the unwelcome attention from Donnie Russo, my unexpected reply, and Raffi's unwavering protection, I feel a little breathless. I'd like a moment to collect myself, away from Raffi's dark eyes watching my every move.
I brace my hands on the counter, nodding at Chef when he asks if it's time for the next wave of food to go out.
WhatisRaffi's game?
When we first started working together, we bickered all the time. He was so set on security, he had no understanding at all of how much it interfered withmywork. But once we were told to plan this parley together, things…changed.
A little.
We had a common goal to work toward, and we were both terrified of having it fail. Or at least, I was. Raffi always seemed so laidback it was hard sometimes to tell if he felt the pressure. But once or twice I could see that he was more snappy than usualwhen dealing with the guards, less inclined to joke around. And he looked tired all the time.
But he was never snappy with me. And he was always awake and available when I needed something. And together, we pulled this event into shape.
I've often felt him watching me since I started working here, and I assumed it was with an eye toward security. But tonight is different. His gaze, always warm, has taken on an extra depth.
The kitchen is too loud. I allow myself a brief moment in the small break room off the kitchen, which is reserved for my use only as butler. I splash a little cool water on my face, willing the pink in my cheeks to fade. But the slow burn in my veins, sparked by Raffi's gallantry over Donnie Russo's harassment, is harder to stamp out.
A knock at the door startles me out of my Raffi-induced haze. I straighten my suit and quickly smooth down my hair before stepping out of the break room, determined to put on a professional front.
"New arrival," says Elise, one of the house staff. "Miss Snippy," she adds.
I frown at the nickname. "Elise?—"
"I know, I know. Respect at all times." Rolling eyes accompany her words, but I don't bother to chastise her again. Roxanne Rochford, the actress, has had a previous extended stay at Redwood, and although that was before my time, her demands and complaints are still legendary among the staff.
Now she's arrived late to her fiancé Gino's parley.
"I'll go and announce her," I tell Elise. But I pause just before I set off. "Have you had trouble with any of the guests? Unwanted attention?"
She shakes her head. "Security have been all over the place. No wandering hands—yet."
"Make sure you inform Mr. DeLuca at once if you experience any harassment."
"Ms. Rochford." I greet the famous young woman with the same smile I give to everyone else. "Welcome back to Redwood Manor."
"Thank you—Darian, isn't it?" Her enormous bodyguard is more than a shadow, he's practically a cape. But Ms. Rochford seems barely aware of him. "I'msosorry to be late. I had a premiere I simply couldn't get out of."
I've met Roxy Rochford several times now, greeting her at the door like this when she arrives with Gino for discussions with Don Castellani, but every time I'm surprised again by how stunning she is in person. Tonight, however, she's taken special care. Her fiery red hair is swept back in abundant curls, and her shining gold dress clings to every curve. She looks rather like the award statuette I think she's hoping to win one of these days.
"What do you think?" she asks, wiggling her fingers at me. "Had to have my tips removed for this part I'm playing right now. Does the ring still look okay?"
I have to blink at the light shining from her enormous diamond engagement ring, which is, if possible, evenmorenoticeablenow that she's returned to her natural nails, filed down and French polished. "Lovely, ma'am," I murmur.
