Chapter 61
Clara
The dinner is tense—Trips’ father keeps whispering to guards, sending some off as others appear.
I have no idea how the plan has changed since August, but I assume RJ found a way to mess with the cameras, if the way the evil mastermind glares at the ceiling during one of the guard’s visits to his seat is any measure.
His scowl turns to me a few times, as well as Walker on the other side of Trips.
Because he’s a sexist fool, he doesn’t spare Summer a single look.
Meanwhile, Mattie pokes at her food, avoiding conversation with either Summer or me as she scans the crowd.
“Looking for someone?” I ask, trying to be sociable with my new sister-in-law.
“Yeah, my boyfriend’s here,” she says, not elaborating.
My cheeks hurt from all the forced smiles I’ve worn tonight, and I wish she could know that this one is genuine. “That’s awesome! Your dad okayed you dating him?”
“Of course not. My boyfriend found a mutual acquaintance who had a plus one and came in that way.”
“Oh.” This could definitely blow up in her face. “Well, at least you’ll get to spend some time together without having to sneak around.”
Her droll look is almost normal for her. “You’re forgetting Father’s surveillance.”
I bob my head at the man in question. “I don’t think the cameras are working right now. He freaked out on Trips and me earlier. I think that might be why.”
Her gaze locks on her father’s barely masked frustration, then shrugs. “He won’t tell us one way or the other. Better safe than sorry.”
“Do you have a plan?”
“We’re meeting down in the gym—there’s no reason for Father to have surveillance down there when all the guests will be on the main floor. After the dance starts, I’m out of here.”
I chuckle. “Be safe.”
Summer leans over, her smirk irreverent as she cues us in to her eavesdropping. “If you’re open to some advice from a big sister—if he doesn’t want to go down on you, lose him.”
I snort as Mattie’s eyes almost bug out of her face before the three of us all laugh, bringing some much needed mirth to my dreary wedding.
Trips raises a brow in question, but I shake my head. This is not a conversation for his ears. But the laughter feels good. Genuine in a way I’ve missed over these last few months of stress and disaster.
The rest of dinner goes off without a hitch, then we’re shuffled back to the ballroom, the space freshly spruced after the happy hour.
Next up, drinking and dancing. In just a few hours, we can calmly pop open the safe and point the cops to whatever RJ stashed in there, as well as Walker’s pile of forgeries intermingled with the photo albums. Then, while we wait on the glacial pace of justice, hopefully the guys can free everyone from the blackmail.
I imagine at least a few of Trips’ father’s victims will be brave enough to go to the cops about all the worse things he’s done over the years.
And if the cops have a reason to dig deeper, they’re going to find more than enough dirt to keep him out of our lives forever.
All these months, this wedding, the torture—it was just to start the ball rolling.
This version of the plan felt like overkill when we came up with it.
At least until we realized how deeply entrenched the man was, how many layers of protection he’d built around himself.
Blackmail yes, but also weaponized charm coupled with promises of Trevor’s time, Trips’ fists, and Mattie’s future, all made to his business partners, both legal and not.
This summer we could see only the barest outlines of his web.
I can’t even imagine what RJ found once he was nested inside the network here.
We had to give everything to the plan, or we’d never get free. And staying tied to the man was never an option.
He’s going to be taken down by his own crimes eventually.
But without knowing where to send the cops, let alone how to get them to take us seriously, we had to be certain there was enough solid evidence of wrong-doing—even if we’re the ones who put it there.
He might be old and sick, but he’s still a very dangerous man.
And I never want to experience that fact at his hands again.
Trips squeezes my fingers, pulling me from my thoughts as yet another unknown guest steps up to offer us congratulations.
I can’t help but notice an unusual number of age-gap relationships in the crowd.
Trevor and Olivia aren’t even close to the widest gap, and it makes my stomach upset at the realization.
Women, bought and sold by powerful men. We’re worth more than that.
Sure enough, the master manipulator drags Mattie off to meet some men who are much too old for her, her mother drifting behind to watch over the interaction. Soon. Soon we’ll get her away from old men with lecherous tastes.
Trips and I greet a few more guests before his father returns, Walker with him.
He gathers us closer than I want to be to him, his voice a hiss over the murmuring crowd.
“I don’t know how you’re messing with the cameras, but this will not go unpunished.
As soon as the prescribed dances are complete, you will meet me in my office. Understood?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Trips says.
It might be honest, but his father doesn’t believe him, instead pulling me into a hug where his knuckles dig between my ribs, my breath vanishing with the sudden pain and tears clouding my vision. “You will be there,” he repeats, Walker held back by Trips.
My poor sweet artist has done more than enough violence tonight. And this is just a warning—it’s not worth intervention, not when so much can still go wrong tonight.
“Understood, sir,” I whisper.
He holds me a moment longer, just to verify that his threat has taken hold, before releasing me with a brilliant smile. “Good. If you’d been born a man, things might have been very different between us, Ms. McElroy.”
He turns, greeting the man nearest us with a booming voice, clasping his shoulder like they’re long-lost friends. Ignoring the consequences, Walker takes one of my hands while Trips grasps the other, but none of us say anything.
This was the risk of having Walker join us in this hell—he could burn right along with us.
But the more of our team Trips’ father could keep his eyes on, the less likely he would be to see what’s going on where he’s not looking.
It was a calculated risk, even if this is the last place I want Walker.
The guys have never been okay with me throwing myself into danger, but they still agreed to my plan.
I had no right to fight them on the same thing, only reversed.
The wedding planner motions us over, interrupting my worried thoughts as she clears a circle in the middle of the ballroom.
The quartet strikes up a lilting tune, and it reminds me of our dance last winter. Only this time, when I place one hand on Trips’ shoulder and the other in his waiting palm, it doesn’t feel like an act.
His ice eyes soften as he looks down at me, the hint of a smile that’s been almost irrepressible at the corner of his mouth winking at me. I feel a matching bit of joy fluttering free from the depths of my fear. “We made it,” I whisper as we’re announced incorrectly as Mr. and Mrs. Westerhouse.
“Home stretch, Mrs. McElroy.”
I laugh, shaking my head at him as he twirls me across the floor, fully trusting him with the steps as we whip past so many strangers’ faces.
“I can’t believe you did that, Mr. McElroy.”
His lips twitch wider, an actual smile appearing like the warmth of a crisp autumn sun.
“It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get exactly what I’ve always wanted: out of this family.
It was just a bonus that it acted as misdirect for my dad and a gift to you, of course.
” I roll my eyes, and his gaze grows heavy.
“Be careful with those sassy looks, Crash.”
“Why?”
“Because they make me want to chase you down, strip off your clothes, and take you however I want.”
I lift my hand from his shoulder and bop him on the nose, his startled blink making me giggle. “I told you before, I let you win.”
“We both won, Crash.”
He’s not wrong. “Raincheck?”
Instead of answering, he pulls me flush to his chest, his lips pressing against my head until the waltz winds down. As he leads me to my father, he finally speaks. “Today we worry about today. But in the future? I’m cashing in every raincheck I ever gave you. Including that one in the study room”
Warmth coats my cheeks as my dad looks between us, the wedding planner urging all of us to the dance floor where Trips’ stepmother waits.
“Everything okay, mija?” My dad just sways, his arms around my waist, not knowing the steps. Like a normal person.
I don’t know how to answer that, though. “It’s as okay as we were expecting,” I say. Then, on instinct, I lean against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of bar soap and faintly woodsy store-brand aftershave. “Thanks for coming.”
“This wasn’t what I was expecting, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Clara-girl.”
We rock for a while longer before he clears his throat. “Will you be okay? Truly?”
“We won’t know for a few days, but hopefully, yeah. We’ll be fine.”
“Your father-in-law made you strip in front of a room full of men. I can’t say I’m okay with that.”
I don’t answer, because he doesn’t need to know how bad it’s gotten. But I must telegraph something of the truth, because his face turns grim.
“Clara, I turned away from what your mom was doing, assuming it was just what happened between a teenage daughter and her mother. I didn’t want to see it for what it was: abuse.
It was impossible. There’s no way I could have ended up in the same mess a second time.
” Wanting him to stop, I pull away from his chest, but he plows on before I can find the words I need.
“I was wrong, and I let you down. I won’t do that again.
If you’re in danger, consider me glued to your side until I know you’re safe. ”
“Dad—”
“I’m serious. Your mother and I are done. Some space after that announcement is probably good for us both. And your scary father-in-law offered me a room. I’m staying here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”
Too many tears keep welling up today. I bob my head, suddenly unwilling to talk him out of this choice, afraid that if I say anything I’ll start weeping like the little girl I used to be, the one I can tell my dad still sees when he looks at me.
The song finally ends, and he leads me to Trips, passing off my hand to him. “Anywhere you two go until the end of this ridiculous wedding, I’m joining you,” he states.
The look Trips gives me says exactly what he’s thinking—his father won’t like that. But tough fucking shit. If it takes a crowd of one to keep the worst from happening while we wait on the cops, then I’m happy to have him on my side.