With a feather light touch, he brushes the back of his fingers down my arm. “Now, pretend I told you that I was going to spread you out on this table to feast upon until you came so hard, every man in this room wished he was me.” My cheeks heat as he chuckles. “Perfect.” He traces a fingertip across the top of the soft collar fastened around my throat. “Absolutely perfect.”
He starts to sit up, but I grab his arm to stop him so that I can whisper, “Why does it matter? You guys aren’t planning on leaving me alone, are you?”
Smirking, he settles a hand on my knee, leaning back in. “Wouldn’t dream of it, angel. But it’d be foolish not to make you aware in case of unforeseen circumstances. Maybe you run to the bathroom and get cornered, or we all wind up beheaded before dessert. I want you to be safe more than I want to fuel my pride by being the one to protect you.”
Swallowing, I nod. “And if he were to try something? Would it cause problems for you guys if I broke his nose?”
His fingers tightening on my knee is the only indicator that my words affected him, his tone otherwise upbeat. “Never allow yourself to be hurt for the sake of someone else’s convenience, Sabrina. If he tries to hurt you, cut off his dick and shove it down his throat. Let the rest of us handle the fallout, but promise me that you won’t tolerate something terrible simply because you’re afraid of causing problems for us. The guilt and shame alone would have us steering towards the nearest cliff.”
Over his shoulder near Emmy, I see someone studying us silently while she’s otherwise engaged in conversation. Following Cinjin’s example, I hold the man’s gaze while flicking my tongue over the shell of Cin’s ear.
His hand slides up my thigh another inch, voice dropping to a rough whisper in my ear. “Such a good girl you are. Let me guess; black hair, brown eyes, looks like he'd spend an entire date talking about himself?” At my hum of agreement, he says, “Malachai Ronen. Owns a chain of casinos, loves his spot in the limelight, and is ironically terrible at poker. He’ll be curious, but nothing to concern yourself over.”
A minute later Bo returns, setting a heaping plate on the table in front of me. Cinjin pats my thigh before rising, kissing my cheek and heading away to get his own food. Giving Malachai my back, I face Bo, who’s currently assessing me like he’s biting his tongue to keep himself in check or there’s something heavy weighing on his mind, if the narrowing of his eyes is any indication.
“Everything alright?” he asks, gesturing for me to start eating. Only after I’ve taken a bite does he start in on his own food.
“Of course, why wouldn’t it be?”
His eyes swiftly flick down to my knee and back. Following his gaze, I see the red marks from Cinjin’s tight grip, impressed that Bo managed to pick up on such a small thing so quickly when I hadn’t even noticed. Shifting so that my leg is under the tablecloth until the marks fade in case that’s something that will be misinterpreted to count against them, I shoot him a sly grin from the corner of my eye.
“Easy to get sidetracked with good company, is all. Thank you for dinner, it looks delicious and I appreciate you saving me the walk in these godawful heels.”
He snorts. “Don’t thank me. Not sure what sort of men you dated before us, but consideration is the bare minimum, Sabrina, nothing to be praised. Fuck, I can’t wait to take you on my idea of arealdate.”
Stabbing a piece of roasted carrot, I pop it in my mouth, salivating at how delicious everything is. “Of course I can show appreciation for kindness, no matter how basic. Just because it’s expected doesn’t mean the effort isn’t valued, so take the compliment that I think you’re delightful to be around.”
We carry on eating, and I use the time to subtly inspect the crowd in front of us as well as keep half an eye on the men fawning over Emmy. There’s a growing pile of gifts at the end of the table beside her, and she humors the six men vying for her attention like she’s playing an instrument, ensuring no one feels excluded for long.
Bo invades my space to whisper, “Up until now, these sort of events have been reserved for the heads of families and their right hands. But seeing as it’s the last one, they’ve pulled out the big guns in a desperate attempt to find someone to catch her eye. Twelve members total per family.”
Quickly doing the math, I glance at the set up. Two tables per family then, for a total of six families. It seems obvious now that I have that little piece of information, our welcome into the house suddenly making sense.
“So the heads of the family approach first, followed by their right hand men, and then the others as a Hail Mary?”
His hand settles on my thigh, thumb stroking over bare skin as he continues eating casually, like that’s not super fucking distracting and threatening to make me choke. His response is loud enough that it’s clear he doesn’t care if anyone overhears. “That’s the gist of it. Then at the end of the evening, they pray that they were in some way fondly memorable, since there’s over seventy contenders. Not like she has time to speak to anyone twice, so let's hope they actually brought a personality to go along with their presents.”
Cinjin comes back to the table and I feel better without the open gap at my left side. Dropping my voice, I ask Bo, “And which family belongs to the asshole that tried to hurt her?”
His entire body goes rigid as he growls, “They wouldn’t dare show their faces here again.”
Silence overtakes the table that has my face heating, knowing it’s my fault that we weren’t quiet enough. Rather than apologize, though, I carry on eating as if we were discussing something casual and unimportant. While these men are pissed that something nearly happened to Emmy under the guys’ care, they’ve yet to prove that they could do a better job. And ultimately, unless they kept Ems under lock and key, escorting her at all times, there’s no way to one hundred percent guarantee she’d be safer with any of them.
The real question is, are they upset that she was almost assaulted, or do they feel cheated that someone tried to steal their prize out from under them? A prize they think they deserve simply for participating in the game.
None of them are looking at Emmeline asEmmy, but as a potential wife that they can lord over the others like a trophy they won to inflate their egos. She’s not a person to them, and it makes my stomach flip, the severity of the situation beginning to really settle in. Whoever Emmy picks... it’s entirely possible they’ll keep such a tight leash on her that I won’t be able to see her again.
Glancing over at Slade, I find him already staring my way. And by the hard gleam in his eyes, I know. I know that he sees it too, and he hates himself for not being able to save her from this.
“And who do we have here?” The voice directly behind me has an uncomfortable shiver snaking up my spine, and I swiftly spin around in my seat. He’s attractive enough, I suppose, if you could ignore the entitlement wafting off of him. Dark hair buzzed short and connected to the scruff on his jaw, the man gives me a practiced smile that’s as fake as his polite tone. “I’ve yet to be introduced.”
I flick my gaze over him once before reaching back for my glass of water, taking my time before facing him again. “Isn’t it customary when approaching a stranger to lead with your name?”
The expected grin is there, but paired with the deep auburn of his slightly narrowed eyes, it’s more malicious than inviting. “Victor Alodia.”
“Sabrina.”
Arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, he asks, “And a last name?”
