The words sound reasonable, professional even. But there’s something in his tone—an assumption, maybe, or hope—that makes my shoulders tense.
Jace’s hand has gone absolutely still on my thigh. Not tightening. Not moving. Just... frozen.
Before I can answer, Charles cuts in. “That’s an excellent idea. Parker should absolutely attend, and you two going together would be perfect.”
My head snaps toward my brother. “Charles?—”
“The gala is important,” he continues, like I haven’t spoken. “All the major families will be there. It’s good optics for you to be seen, especially with someone from an established family.” He looks at Ryan with approval. “The Matthews name carries weight.”
“I wasn’t asking, you, Charles,” Ryan says, his attention still on me. Still on my mouth. “I was asking you, Parker. What do you think?”
What I think is that my brother just decided my social life for me without asking. What I think is that Jace has gone completely rigid beside me, his hand on my thigh the only thing keeping me grounded. What I think is that I want to scream that I don’t need to be paraded around like a prize mare at auction to prove I belong in this world.
But Ryan’s looking at me with those warm brown eyes, his thumb still tracing his bottom lip in that unconscious gesture that’s probably meant to be attractive, and Charles is watching expectantly, and everyone in this room is waiting for my answer.
“I’ll think about it,” I say carefully.
“Great.” Ryan’s smile widens, and the way his gaze drops briefly to my throat before returning to my eyes makes it clear he’s taking that as a yes. “I’ll call you to coordinate details.”
The meeting breaks up, people gathering their tablets and phones, making small talk about weekend plans and upcoming fights. I shove my things into my bag with more force than necessary, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ache.
Jace’s hand finally moves from my thigh as we stand, but only so he can place it at the small of my back—possessive, protective,a silent statement to anyone watching that I’m his even if they don’t know it yet.
Charles touches my elbow. “Car’s waiting downstairs.”
I don’t trust myself to speak, just nod and follow him out. Jace falls into step behind us, his presence a solid weight at my back. The elevator ride down is silent—just the three of us and the mechanical hum of descent.
Marcus is waiting by the car, his expression carefully neutral as he opens the back door. Charles slides in first. I follow, trying to put as much distance between us as the backseat allows. Jace takes the passenger seat, his shoulders rigid.
Marcus pulls into traffic, and for several blocks, nobody speaks. The tension builds like pressure before a storm, thick and electric and inevitable.
“You’re upset,” Charles says finally.
I laugh—sharp, bitter. “You think?”
“Parker—”
“No.” I turn to face him, anger overriding the careful distance I usually maintain. “You don’t get to do that anymore. You don’t get to decide who I’m dating without even asking me first.”
“I didn’t decide anything.” His tone is maddeningly reasonable. “Ryan asked you to the gala. I simply agreed it was a good idea.”
“You told him it was perfect. You made it sound like it was already decided.”
“Because it is a good idea.” Charles shifts to face me fully, his expression earnest. “Parker, I know you don’t want to hear this, but appearances matter. You know they matter. You’ve beenliving in California for six years, building your own life, and I’m proud of you for that. But you’re back now. You have children—my nephews—who are part of this family whether you like it or not. And the traditionalists in our organization...” He pauses, choosing words carefully. “They need to see you as legitimate. As someone who belongs in leadership, not just as my little sister who ran away.”
The words sting because they’re true. I have been running. And the men who answer to Charles, who run the various branches of our operation—they’re old-school. They respect power and legacy and the appearance of propriety. A single mother who disappeared for six years doesn’t exactly scream stability.
“So what?” I snap. “I’m supposed to date Ryan Matthews to prove I’m a good little Carter? Smile and look pretty on his arm so everyone knows I’m playing by the rules?”
“I’m not asking you to date him. I’m asking you to attend an event with him. To show that you’re invested in this family, in maintaining alliances.” Charles runs a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through his usual control. “Look, I love you. I love those boys. And you know I want to change how we operate—make us less like Dominic’s version of leadership and more like something we can actually be proud of. But we can’t do that overnight. We have to work within the system while we change it.”
“Sounds like misogyny,” I mutter. “Sounds like exactly what Dominic would want.”
“No, it sounds like strategy.” His voice hardens slightly.
I turn to look out the window, watching buildings blur past, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. “If you’re so worried about optics, maybe you should push Aria onto Ryan instead.”
The words come out sharper than I intended, loaded with venom. Our father’s widow—young enough to be our sister, barely thirty to Dominic’s sixty-three when they married. She’s living in one of the guest houses now after I kicked her out of the main house, bitter and pretending she’s mourning while everyone knows she’s calculating her next move. She’s young enough to remarry, pretty enough to make any alliance look good, and desperate enough to actually go along with it.
