I can even smell her perfume. Just traces of it. Something alluring, like jasmine.
Not only does she look fucking delectable, she smells that way too.
Malcolm stands, raising his glass. The room quiets down.
“A toast,” he says, his baritone naturally commanding. “To the upcoming nuptials. We’re entering a new time of prosperity for both our families. The Callahans are now as good as blood.”
Everybody else is grinning ear to ear.
But being the observant bastard I am, I notice how Dad reacts. Pick up on his tells—he wipes at his nose and double blinks before nodding in agreement.
He’s pleased by the deal that’s been struck, but calling the Callahans as good as family to the Langstons is a bridge too far.
It seems my new father-in-law feels the same underneath it all. It’s in the thinly veiled warning he gives me during the toast.
His gaze seeks mine toward the end like he wants to make sure I get where thingsreallystand.
“I hope you understand the precious gift you’ve received, Ronan. My daughter is truly something special.”
I hold his gaze and merely give a tight nod. Tension works my jaw, but I don’t take my eyes off him.
Not ’til long after the toast is over.
I know a subtle threat when I receive one, and Simone Langston’s father just issued it.
Mistreat his daughter and it’s on.
As if Dad won’t break the deal as soon as it advantages the Callahans. There’s no such thing as honor among thieves, after all.
Once dinner’s over, social hour breaks out. Everyone disperses into cliques around the room, mingling among themselves.
I’m on my third whiskey of the night when I realize Simone’s no longer at my side.
I look up just in time to see her rounding the corner, slipping out of the room.
Seems my little bride couldn’t wait to make her escape. But the question is: Where’s she going?
I set my glass down and follow.
She strides down the side corridor with purpose, heels tapping against the marble floor. After rounding another corner, she disappears into what appears to be a private bathroom.
I pause for a moment, weighing my options. She’s ignored me all night. We’re about to be husband and wife in exactly seven days.
Fuck it.
I walk up to the door and wrench it open, stepping inside.
Simone’s at the sink, touching up her lipstick. She gasps and whips around, so surprised she drops the tube. It clatters onto the tile floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?!”
“Meeting my wife,” I say, closing the door behind me. “You’ve been ignoring me all night.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “That’s been intentional.”
I twist the lock on the door. Her gaze flicks to the doorknob then back to me. Even if it weren’t locked, she’d still need to get past me, and I’m twice her size and much stronger.
I take a step toward her, a cocky grin slashing across my face.
