“That’s what brothers are for!”
Ghost materializes beside me with a plate of food. “Eat. You’ve been going nonstop for an hour.”
“I’m fine?—”
He gives me a look that says he’s not arguing.
I take the plate. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He hesitates. “I meant what I said the other day. About being on your side.”
“I know.” I bump my shoulder against his side. “We’re good.”
“Good.”
Hours pass. The sun sets. Someone starts a bonfire outside, and the party spills into the compound yard. I end up on a bench near the fire, watching people tell stories and razz each other with the casual cruelty of people who love each other.
Ash appears beside me. He’s shed his vest, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from the celebration. “Having fun?” he asks.
“More than I expected.”
“Good.” He takes my hand, threads our fingers together. “Dance with me.”
He pulls me to my feet and into his arms. We sway together. His hand rests on my lower back. Mine finds his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“For what?”
“For your vows.”
His hand tightens on my back. “Bonnie, this is real.” He pulls back enough to look at me. “You’re not just a tactical advantage. You’re my wife. And I plan to treat you like it.”
My heart stutters. “Ash?—”
“Come with me,” he says.
“Where?”
His smile turns wicked. “Somewhere more private. I have plans for you, Mrs. Torres.”
Heat floods through me. “Oh?”
“Wedding night plans.” He tugs me toward the clubhouse.
13
BONNIE
Ash’s hand stays warm in mine as we make our way through the clubhouse.
Brothers call out congratulations as we pass. Someone shouts something crude about wedding nights that makes my face burn. Titan’s laugh echoes from somewhere near the bonfire.
We’re almost to the stairs when a voice stops us.
“Well, isn’t this sweet?”
I turn to find Mona leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, expression dripping with false sweetness. She’s dressed in barely there shorts and a top that shows more than it covers—her usual uniform for clubhouse parties.
