“Only because I’m not interested.”
Topher pulls me in. “You’re also more fun to dance with.”
“No, I just make you look better.”
He nuzzles my neck as my mother takes us in. She doesn’t want me with Topher; though, to someone like her, he’s still a step up from the help.
From Declan. The bodyguard she can’t own.
She’d never admit that’s why she hates him.
“Stop that.” I try to shake him off subtly.
“I need to send you flowers.”
“Need?” I ask with a forced laugh even though there’s nothing remotely funny about this.
“Want. For…purposes.” I roll my eyes. To look good in the eyes of the board, probably. Topher usually only does things he wants to, and things he thinks will further his goals. And with my mother making huge donations that got me named principal dancer, it means more money, more prestige, and more opportunities for me and anyone I’m linked with.
“What’s your address?” he asks. “So I can send you roses. White ones, your favorite. With some red.”
Before I can respond, I smell smoke, dark musk, and expensive whiskey, and Declan’s arm drops over my shoulders, pulling me back against his body. He slapsTopher hard between the shoulder blades, smiling like they’re best friends.
Then he palms a card and slaps it against Topher’s chest.
“My office,” he says pleasantly. “That’s where you send them. And she likes color and wildflowers. Not white. Not red.”
“All girls like red.” Topher gives Declan an amused look. But I note he steps back.
“Not my girl. Not my wife. Not in roses. Not unless I give them to her.”
He may as well push his gun into Topher’s temple and whisperback the fuck offbefore I end you.
“We need to meet and greet and look like the happy couple,” Declan murmurs in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
Topher saunters off to his bored date as my fake husband steers me away. It’s a whirlwind of introductions. Mikey’s here, Tony, one of the drivers, is also present. I meet Lucie’s mother and brother, a well-mannered guy with haunted eyes.
Declan’s brothers make the rounds in their own way. With purpose. Talking to the people they want to. But only Declan’s the social butterfly type. He could talk the dead into rising and swooning for him.
It’s a gift, watching men and women fall under his spell as he talks about nonsensical things. Some of the older matrons fan themselves with their pearls.
He’s the other side of the coin to his oldest brother. Callahan watches the door closely and brushes off most people without blinking.
But I don’t ever make the mistake of thinking Declan is soft, just like I don’t ever think Cal can’t be as charming as Declan if he chooses to.
I look for the others because I’m bored with whatever Declan’s talking to some fat cat about. Rich, ugly, privileged—the type who goes to the ballet to be seen, and not for the art of the dance.
Torin is gifted at somehow disappearing even though these Murphy men are all hot as fuck and stick out in crowds. But I know where he is. Because I know where Harriet is.
I wait until Declan’s caught in a different conversation with a white-haired lady, and then slip my hand out of his to look for a quiet place. I inch down the halls and push open a door that’s slightly ajar. A thin stream of soft gold light seeps out. I step inside, close the door, and lean against the wall. For a moment my heart beats fast and hard. Because I’m in an office. Oh, hell, was Lucie’s not father killed in here?
Declan jokes. He plays. He wraps his brutality in sugar. But he was telling the truth. Callahan killed the man Luciethoughtwas her father. I don’t know why yet, but if I know anything, he did it for her.
To protect her. Which means the man was a monster. And the world is better without him.
I reach into my little bag that holds my phone and go still. There’s a piece of paper.
It takes two to tango. But we’ll meet again, my love, I know.
