Chapter 1 #2
A screech comes from the groomsmen suite. My heart leaps into my throat. I lift my skirts and rush forward. The ridiculous, strappy high heels dig into the back of my feet and pinch my toes, but I pour on more speed and prepare to use the doorframe to swing into the room.
A tiny white ball of fluff rockets out into the hall, almost tripping me, but my reflexes kick in and I slide, squat, and scoop the pocket-sized dog up with one arm before tucking it against my chest and rising.
My head spins, but I brace a palm on the wall and catch my balance before turning back toward the room.
Broad shoulders fill the doorway. Crisp navy fabric fills my vision and terror closes my throat, but I use years’ worth of training and push through my instinctual reaction to see the man wearing it.
Carlos Lopez, the top security guard at my company and the most trustworthy man I know, steps out into the hall.
As he always does when we greet each other, he moves several paces away—out of reaching distance—and offers me a gentle smile.
His partner and today’s best man, Liam Brunswick, follows close on his heels with a wailing little boy in tow.
The tiny dog whines and wiggles, pulling me further away from my mental spiral. I loosen my hold and give a half-smile, half-grimace as the mini beast licks my upper chest and throat.
Sympathy spears through me at the silent panic in Liam’s eyes. He maintains his normal stoicism—as Matteo Ricco’s private assistant and right-hand man, he wouldn’t dare lose his composure—but underneath his faux calm lies a well of uncertainty I never thought I’d see on him.
His unprecedented preparedness saved me multiple times throughout the years—he somehow always managed to have my back at conferences when I had no clue what I was doing—while his ability to read the room and anticipate things before they happen has taught me so much.
The little boy tries to tug his hand out of Mr. Brunswick’s grasp and launches into a bigger tantrum when he can’t.
Liam glances toward Carlos for backup, but Carlos looks just as lost as he does, so I take mercy on them and squat in front of the spoiled toddler.
“Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?” I ask.
Liam gestures toward the kid’s other arm and responds, “He was being too rough with the dog, so it nipped at him and ran off.” I glance at the sleeve in question but find no proof of a bite. “We already checked, and he’s fine. Not a mark on him.”
A shadow falls over me. The hairs on my nape rise and terror clogs my throat, but the dog’s soft fur and happy lick ground me in the present.
I rise and move away from the newcomer even as he speaks.
“Of course my son is fine. He just needs to toughen up and make sure the dog knows who’s boss. Stop crying, Clark,” Taylor Devon demands.
The second son of a billionaire, Taylor Devon has never had to work a day in his life, but he stands as though he’s the most accomplished man in the building.
Pure disgust twists my insides as my ex-stepfather’s voice rings through my memories. He often berated my stepbrother for the most ridiculous things, and after Brennan left, he turned his attention to me.
The boy quiets. My heart hurts for him.
“He pulled the dog’s tail,” Liam says. The contempt in his tone relays his disgust at the chauvinistic opinion.
“The dog doesn’t care. He’s already forgotten. Hell, I would too for a taste of that,” Taylor says.
I follow his gaze to my breasts. Worms crawl on my skin, turning the dog’s innocent licks to something more sinister. With a few gentle strokes of its head, I guide its mouth away from my chest.
Liam offers Taylor his son’s hand as Carlos walks around them and takes the dog from my arms. I step partially behind him as he returns the animal to its owner.
The ache in my heart worsens.
“Thanks for watching the runts for me. I’ll take them to my wife now,” Taylor sneers. After glaring at Carlos for ruining his opportunity to cop a feel of my breasts, he turns and stomps away.
As he leads the child down the hall toward the atrium with the dog tucked against his side, I take a deep breath and grimace at the saliva on my skin.
Carlos offers me a tissue from his coat pocket.
“Thank you, Mr. Lopez,” I say as I accept it.
“You’re very welcome, Ms. Tripp,” he responds.
The ball of dread lodged in my chest remains, but my fight-or-flight response dissipates as Carlos and Liam use their bulk to shield me from the guests at the end of the hall.
These are the only two men in the entire world I trust to stand so close.
“We should tell him we’re gay. He’ll never thrust his kid on us again,” Carlos mumbles.
Mirth tugs at my lips. His sass never fails to amuse me. Our irreverent humor is how we slowly became friends over the years.
I look down to hide my face as I wipe the slobber off my cleavage.
“Neither of us knows how to act gay enough for him to believe us,” Liam deadpans.
I choke on a laugh and shake my head despite needing another tissue. When I lift my gaze, quiet relief shines from both men’s eyes. Guilt tightens my chest. I should’ve hidden my emotions better, but I haven’t been that close to a meltdown in over a year.
Their lack of sexual interest in women has helped me move past my trauma over the years while their kindness has earned them a rare spot on my very short list of friends.
Carlos offers me more tissues.
Liam crosses his arms over his muscular chest and glares at Carlos.
“Why are you carrying two tissue packets?” he demands.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Brunswick,” Carlos snarks.
“You clearly pulled tissues out of your other pocket earlier,” Liam accuses.
“We’re at a wedding, Liam. I’d be a fool to not have extra tissues. What if my stoic lover actually breaks character outside of the bedroom?”
I blush at Carlos’ open flirting and avert my gaze toward the wall as I wipe the rest of the dog slobber off my neck.
Liam clears his throat and nudges Carlos with his elbow before turning to me.
“I’m sorry we’ve put you in such an uncomfortable situation,” he says.
I shake my head and ball the used tissues in my fist.
“Don’t apologize. It’s just my luck today, unfortunately,” I say with a shrug.
Both of their gazes narrow on my face. Emotions squeeze my insides. Even though I know they’re gay and aren’t sexually interested in me, their masculine attention is too much.
“What happened?” Carlos asks.
I shake my head and pat his arm.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I lie. “I need to go check on the bridesmaids and wash up before we line up for the ceremony, so excuse me, please.”
“Of course,” Mr. Brunswick says.
When Mr. Lopez glowers at him, I step around the couple and rush away before they can call out my lies.
A fist closes around my upper arm and yanks me into a side hall. My attacker slams me against the wall so hard the air whooshes out of my lungs and the fancy wainscoting bruises my back. Horrible memories flash through my mind, and for a millisecond, I can’t move.
It’s a millisecond too long.
As years’ worth of self-defense classes click into place, I open my mouth to scream, but a massive hand covers it.
Panic floods my veins with adrenaline, and I grab the man’s wrist with both hands as I jerk my knee upward.
The low, masculine curse as I strike his thigh lifts the hairs on my nape.
He releases me and steps out of reach. Relief spears through me and my legs turn to jelly, but I catch myself on the wall and prepare to dart back toward the main hall.
“Long time no see, little stepsis.”
Time splinters.
No, this cannot be happening.
I look up—and up—past shiny dress shoes, up long legs, over broad shoulders, and into sky-blue eyes too clear to belong on such a monster.
Even as horror closes my throat, my soul leaps in delight and my heart quivers with want.
Brennan Diamond.
My ex-stepbrother. The demon who gained my trust, promised to always be there for me, then abandoned my mother and me to his cruel father.
I haven’t seen him for thirteen years.
It’s not long enough. Especially not after I just saw his father for the first time in ten years.
I curl my hands into fists to hide my trembling and inch toward the main hall.
“What, no flirty smiles or suggestive eyelash batting like you just did to the men out there? I’m hurt, Audrey,” he growls.
“You’re not a man; you’re a monster. Get away from me,” I demand.
He crosses his arms over his chest and studies me from head to toe. My stomach bottoms out at the hunger in his gaze.
“No, baby doll, I don’t think I will. I’ve been looking for you for thirteen years. Now that I’ve found you, I’m going to stay very, very close,” he vows.
My vision narrows. I can’t breathe.
I need to get away from him.
Far, far away.
Now.