I take a step closer to Falco, daring him to look away.
He doesn’t.
“Do you think I look beautiful in this dress?” I tilt my head to the side, my curls spilling over one shoulder.
Falco’s throat bobs as he swallows.
He listed off a bunch of excuses when he pushed me away yesterday, but never once did he say that he wasn’t interested.
Everything about my life is wrapped in these rules and regulations.
I’m going to push Falco until he breaks through them.
“I cannot comment,” Falco replies stiffly.
“Yes, you can. In fact I’m ordering you to give me your honest opinion.” My pulse quickens as Falco’s eyes dart down for a second, taking me in from head to toe while Mom sighs behind me.
“Yes,” Falco finally replies. “You look beautiful.”
I smirk then melt into a warm smile as I turn back to Mom. “See? I told you. This is the dress.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “Fine, darling. That’s the dress. You know they’re paid to agree with you, right?” She tosses her head toward her guard. “It’s in their contract.”
As I nod at her words, I walk slowly back through the curtain.
To an extent, she’s right. Any of the guards would give an honest yet polite answer if asked such a thing.
But as Falco pointed out, he doesn’t work for me.
The dress is the highlight of my day because as soon as night falls the estate turns into polite chaos as Mom’s private dinner moves into full swing.
Every guard is on high alert, even Falco looks slightly tense.
He stands against the wall behind my chair, flanked by two of my father’s best guards.
Across the table from us sits the reason security is so high and why I was ordered to look my best for this dinner.
Dad is working out a deal with the Irish, details that he refuses to tell me, but part of that deal appears to be hosting a dinner for Frederick Byrne, the son of the Irish captain.
“My father extends his apologies,” Frederick says as the first meal is served. “He would love to be here, given how important this meeting is, but unfortunately, my mother is poorly and he needs to take care of her.”
“I understand,” Dad says, reaching for Mom’s hand between their plates. “It’s important to take care of the women in your life. They are our pillars after all.”
Mom chuckles softly and leans into him, kissing his cheek while Frederick nods with a broad smile.
I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on my meal.
While my parents have always cared for one another, their overly affectionate display isn’t quite like them.
Usually at these dinners, everyone is on their best behavior while my father secures his deals and my mom acts like arm candy.
Seeing them like this in front of a stranger is…weird.
Most of the conversation washes over me while I eat.
They discuss drugs and weapons, names of people I’ve only ever heard of in passing, and tense talks of the bloodshed between our two families.
Frederick echoes my father’s desire for peace and constantly compliments the food and my mother, as if a good meal can end months and years of war.
