Mirroring the action, I don’t miss a beat. “Yes, let me give a stranger my full name. Would you like my address and social security number as well, while we’re at it?”
I get a brief glimpse of the tip of his tongue pressing into his canine as if he were searching for patience. “I would think seeing as you’re in my home, I’m entitled to such information if requested.”
Bo starts to speak, but he doesn’t get a chance as I pivot completely in my chair, astounded at the sheer audacity. “And I would think for a man trying to get in the good graces of my best friend, he’d have the common sense not to act so obnoxiously in front of her, throwing around claims of entitlement like they’re something to be proud of instead of pathetically cringeworthy.”
The silence is deafening, and though my neck is surely mottled red, I’m more pissed off than embarrassed. Confrontation isn’t my strong suit, but there’s something about this guy that has every one of my internal alarm bells going off.
I’m not about to blow this for Emmy, but there’s also nothing stopping me from simply walking out of here. Even if the guys need to stay to keep an eye on her, I can walk home if it comes down to it. And though I’m still feeling wildly out of place, that doesn’t equate to being desperate to be accepted; not by this crowd.
I’d rather Emmy see someone’s true colors now so that she can check them off of her list of potential husbands. If the only way I can help her tonight is to goad people into showing they’re actually an asshole, knowing full well they might stick a bomb on my front door, it seems a worthy sacrifice to ensure she isn’t marrying someone that will make her absolutely miserable.
“A bold proclamation,” he finally settles on, glaring at Bo like he’s at fault for not controlling my behavior.
“Yet she isn’t wrong,” Emmy declares, her voice carrying a sense of finality to it. “I can’t picture myself mated to someone that’s going to act like the gods’ gift to earth, or make my friends feel inferior. If you can’t handle some push back from a human girl, then that’s a testament to your lack of patience, which typically doesn’t bode well for women behind closed doors.”
Human girl?
If I thought the silence was deafening before, it’s nothing compared to the oppressive weight of it now. It shatters a minute later, the men nearest Emmy effusively attempting to convince her that they’re nothing like the man she just told off.
Victor glowers at Slade, who simply holds his stare with endless patience. Raising his glass, he takes a long drink before bothering to speak, dragging out the moment. “I hope the rest of your family has better manners, Victor. Coming after a woman in such an aggressive way, a guest in your home, no less.” He clucks his tongue in disappointment then promptly looks away, dismissing him as unworthy of notice.
The rest of dinner proceeds without anyone else approaching or speaking to me, leaving Bo, Cin, and I to eat in peace with casual, if slightly awkward, conversation. The batch of six men are replaced by the next, Emmy’s pile of gifts growing with each new visitor. She says all of the right things to keep the precarious balance of peace, stealing bites off of her plate when someone else is speaking, and one actually manages to make her genuinely laugh. But it’s not until they rotate to the next batch of people that one makes her pause.
He doesn’t approach Emmy to offer a gift, but strides directly past her, up to Slade instead, and the three of us break off mid sentence to unabashedly eavesdrop. “I tore out the garden.”
It means nothing to me, but Slade shifts in his seat to fully face the man, so it must mean something significant. Bo slings an arm over the back of my chair as well, staring intently at the suitor. His dreadlocks are pulled back from his face, framed in a neatly trimmed beard, with silver eyes standing out startlingly against his dark skin.
Unbuttoning his suit jacket to reveal the inner pocket with a slim, zippered case peeking out of it, he holds Slade’s gaze with nothing short of fierce determination, yet doesn’t say another word, standing on the merit of his actions rather than empty claims. Curiosity getting the better of her, Emmy cranes her head back, invading Slade’s space so that she can see what the guy is sporting under his jacket. Her lips part in surprise, looking up at the man’s face with clear interest now, the other men scowling at the loss of her attention.
Returning fully to her seat, she whirls around, giving the others her back. Stretching out a hand in offering as he adjusts his stance to regard her as well without brushing off Slade, her smile lights up her entire face. “Emmeline Hawthorne. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she trails off expectantly.
Taking her hand in his, he presses a kiss to the back, lips lingering as he introduces himself. “Gabriel Aldervale.”
“Well, Gabriel,” she declares, “I must say, this was an unexpected surprise.”
With a sad smile, he releases her hand. “A shame, that. It should be a common enough courtesy that it isn’t worth noting as a kindness, but an expectation of anyone pursuing a future with you.”
Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “In a perfect world.”
His eyes darken, tracking the motion. “In a perfect world, none of this would be necessary.” With a small bow to her and a respectful tilt of his head at Slade, he leaves, walking back to his table across the room without lingering to make conversation.
Cinjin releases an exaggerated groan as the other men swiftly begin vying to regain Emmy’s attention after the impact Gabriel had. “Ugh, this is painful to watch. Come on, let’s go for a walk. I’ll give you a tour of the place or something, but I need a break from seeing people fight over who gets to climb into my sister’s pants.” Rising to his feet, he captures my hand to drag me with him, gently tugging.
Slade and Bo have a silent exchange before he excuses himself from the table to follow us. I risk a nervous glance back, debating if it’s a good idea to split up, but Reid catches my eye and winks before returning to his role of mild mannered, unassuming sentry.
More mind games. Shows that they’re confident Reid and Slade are enough to guard her.
No one stops us as Cinjin tucks my hand in the crook of his elbow, weaving a path between the tables and out of the room with Boden at our back. Retracing our steps back to the foyer, he sweeps a hand out to dramatically encompass the space. “Here, you’ll see eighteenth century Athenian marble. The gold inlay is symbolic of Victor’s idolization of King Midas, and we can only pray for an equally dramatic demise.”
Laughing as he guides me towards one of the staircases, I squeeze his arm. “You’re throwing out buzzwords, aren’t you?”
He gasps, covering my hand with his as we begin our ascent. “In all of my years as a tour guide, I’ve never once had someone question my authority on the subject.”
“My apologies, good sir.” I flutter my free hand to my chest. “Please, do go on.”
Bo snorts behind us, but doesn’t interject. When we reach the second floor, the soft, wine colored carpet keeps our footsteps silent. Cin leads us to the hall branching off to the right, a series of paintings lining both walls.
“Here, we have Alfredo Cumbersnatch the third,” he declares haughtily. “Most famously known for his ironic aversion to cucumbers.”
