“Goddamnit!”
When the other guard fumbled for his taser, Ronan thrust out one hand to stay him. “Don’t get excited, Dan. I just need you to tell me my girlfriend is fine.”
Dan paused. “You’re dating Ms. Vidal?”
“Why do you think your boss is so mad at me?” he bit out. “I want a goddamned answer. Is. Ireland. Okay?”
He knew instantly from Dan’s expression that she wasn’t, and the blood in his veins went cold.
Tilting her head back, Eva scanned the mezzanine in large part because it was easier for her to see as a height-challenged woman. Otherwise, her line of sight was filled with other, taller people’s shoulders, which absolutely didn’t help her find her husband in the boisterous crowd.
What she wouldn’t give sometimes to be as tall and lithe as Ireland instead of voluptuous and petite. Everything looked good on her sister-in-law, while she had to be careful finding things that flattered her.
Her breath caught when she spotted her husband walking away from Ronan Boudreaux—leaving Raúl and Chase behind to deal with him. The Cajun’s white dinner jacket was illuminated by the fairy-lit shrubbery lining the glass railing, making him hard to miss in the otherwise gloomy space. And, of course, she’d distinguish Gideon’s dark figure even among shadows. No oneelse carried themselves with the utter command her husband did. He was also so breathtakingly handsome that looking at him was a necessary indulgence.
“Hey!” she protested as her best friend deliberately stepped in front of her and blocked her view.
“Keep staring up there, and you’ll draw attention to them,” Cary warned. Like her husband, he stood several inches taller than her despite her platform stilettos. Cary Taylor was one of the rare male models to break into public awareness, and his dry wit—showcased on his widely followed social media channels—was as much his signature as his astonishing good looks. “You know everyone in this place is trying to find your man for one reason or another.”
“Thank god it looks like they’re not going to come to blows,” she said wearily, fighting exhaustion. She and Gideon had scarcely slept overnight, and the quick nap they’d managed only served to make her more tired. Stress and worry weighed heavily; the past week’s events had taken an emotional toll on both of them.
“Never say never,” he singsonged, his green eyes lit with wry amusement.
"Don't even joke about it. You know someone will get a video if they fight.”
And the digital tabloids and gossip websites would pay to snap it up.
Cary shrugged. “Well, Gideon’s got that look of death and destruction on his face. And does he ever wear it well. He’s extra hot when he’s furious at someone.”
“Don’t I know it,” she groused. “It’s a pain in the ass to get turned on when he’s pissed at me about something."
“Not that he ever is for long.” Cary reached up and played with her hair, arranging the golden blonde strands to his liking. “You’re his Achilles’ heel.”
Turning her head to follow Gideon’s movements, Eva watched her husband bypass the velvet rope at the landing of the dual curving staircase, then descend with quick strides. Dressed in a classic black tuxedo with a similar sheen to his collar-length raven hair, Gideon was a magnificent sight. While she could admit that Ronan Boudreaux was averyattractive man with an earthy sex appeal, she agreed with the media coverage that proclaimed her husband the most gorgeous man alive.
Still, her gaze returned to Boudreaux, assessing. He was a tall man, taller than Gideon’s 6’2”, but lean. Too lean, she would say. But then that might be why he boasted such beautifully chiseled cheekbones, which highlighted steely gray eyes and framed a lushly carnal mouth. He wore his hair longer than Gideon’s—thick and full, with sun-kissed streaks of pale blond amid darker hues of caramel and wheat. It rather resembled a lion’s mane.
She watched him precede Raúl and Chase to the service elevator with a predator’s loose-limbed, determined stride, clearly uncowed by her husband’s fury. Then she lowered her gaze toward the bottom of the staircase in anticipation of Gideon rejoining her. She couldn’t wait to get his impression of the man who’d put a target on her father-in-law, one of the finest and kindest men she knew.
Eva hadn’t had many opportunities to meet the men Ireland dated, because they were never introduced to the rest of the family. She understood that her sister-in-law had yet to commit to a long-term relationship. She not only supported that decision, but she also envied Ireland’s ability to make it. She’d personally struggled with one-sided codependent relationships from the outset, her self-worth so low that she confused being used for sex as love.
It was because Ireland was so fiercely independent that Eva struggled to understand the hold Ronan Boudreaux had on her. That Ireland had put the man on the guest list and then onthe stage as one of the bachelors being auctioned off, while well aware of his vendetta against her father, made absolutely no sense, regardless of how attractive and sexy the man was.
“Eva.”
There was a fine tension in her father’s voice that turned Eva’s immediate focus to him as he appeared amid the crowd and joined them. She was immediately alarmed by his tightly schooled expression and flat gaze. “Dad. What’s wrong?”
Once a street cop in Oceanside, California, her father had taken the lead position on her personal security team after her mother’s murder. She’d learned to recognize the difference between hanging out with her dad and working with Victor Reyes, the man in charge of keeping her safe.
She felt Gideon reach her side without taking her attention from her dad’s austere face. Her husband’s arm slid around her back, his hand curling possessively on her hip.
“Come with me now,” he said, with his phone pressed to his ear. “You, too, Cary. Victor, I’ve got Eva. Help Chase and Raúl round up the rest of my family and bring them to my office.”
Nodding curtly, her father melted into the rest of the guests. Gideon exerted firm but gentle pressure on her back to get her moving. Cary followed directly behind.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Not sure yet. Ireland, damn it,” he snapped into his phone. “You need to answer my calls.Now.” He hung up and picked up his pace, forcing Eva into a near trot.
