Chapter 3
three
ROSE
Two hours of Mrs. Elhart’s droning conversation later, and I’m ready to impale myself on a fork. Forget earning Dad’s approval. I’d rather him be pissed at me than sit through another fifteen minutes of her insulting everyone in attendance.
As if sensing my despair, the band the charity gala hired finally starts to play.
Mrs. Elhart glares at them, her cloudy green eyes narrowing into thin slits. “I hate this part,” she says, gripping the sides of her chair to stand. The coarse strands of her silver hair are pulled back into a tight bun that tugs on her wrinkled skin. Maybe that’s why she’s so grumpy. Her driver helps steady her. She grips his arm with knobby knuckles.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Manners have me getting up as well. Please, leave.
“I’m going home,” she says with a huff. Her eyes drift down my body, lips pursing as her gaze roams over my exposed leg. “Really, dear, with thighs that big, you should be careful with what you wear.”
Pasting on the fakest smile I’ve ever worn, I internally bristle and imagine tripping her. I’d like to see what the old cunt has to say after she eats the floor.
“It was lovely to dine with you,” I lie.
She harrumphs. “Tell your father to call me on Monday to go over the contract.”
What contract? All he said was to keep her company. He never mentioned there was a business deal on the line.
So much for Millers telling each other everything.
Dad’s had a busy week.
Snuffing out my annoyance, I nod. “Of course. Get her home safe.”
The driver dips his head in acknowledgement and escorts her from the room. I scan the crowd. The rooftop restaurant and bar, situated in the heart of New York City’s financial district, has been transformed from a nighttime hotspot to an elegant lounge worthy of its opulent guests. Event coordinators covered the tables in heavy black cloths, ribbons of gold and silver streaking across the middle and underneath the floral centerpieces inside of crystal vases. No expense has been spared, which is ironic, considering we’re here to raise money for local food pantries.
For a moment, I’m all alone in a roomful of people. No one seems to notice me. Everyone is too intent on circling those with the most power, and despite my position in the company, I’m still just Joseph Miller’s daughter. An intrusive sense of inadequacy rolls over me. In this world, I’ll always be in his shadow, always a little less important. Normally, I can deal with it, but Dare’s earlier accusations still float through my mind.
You’re only a pawn.
Mood darkening, I sip the last of my champagne. Is it even possible to hate someone more than I hate Dare?
“Looks like I finally got you alone,” Eric purrs, running his knuckles down my arm.
My body instantly stiffens, and I recoil, all my senses telling me to run. I guess the answer is yes. Eric is definitely on the top of my hope you get an STD list.
“Actually, I was just leaving.” I start to walk away, but Eric snatches my wrist and pulls me into his body.
“Rosalynn,” he coos. “Don’t be a tease. I know you wore that dress for me.”
Rage lights up my insides. Who does this guy think he is? “Let me go,” I say, voice calm enough that I deserve an Oscar.
“Dance with me.” Before I can tell him to get fucked, he drags me into the fray.
With so many people watching, I have no choice but to follow, gliding across the floor with a plastic smile that makes me hate myself. As Dad’s gaze catches mine, he nods in approval, too focused on the deal to realize how much I hate Eric’s touch.
Eric pulls a fancy maneuver and brings me around to face him, placing one palm on my back and using the other to keep my hand hostage. The slow song is swoony and romantic, the exact opposite of how I feel.
“See, isn’t this nice?”
“Are you enjoying your night?” I ask to avoid answering, looking anywhere but at the man who can’t take no for an answer. His dancing is the one good thing about this moment.
“It’s better now that you’re in my arms,” Eric murmurs.
Don’t encourage him. Let him down firmly but nicely.
“Eric,” I begin, flicking my eyes to meet his. “You’re an amazing guy.”
“I know.”
Lord, help me.
“But I don’t think you’re the one for me.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Still denying it?”
I shake my head. “No, Eric, I’m serious. I’m happily single, and I really want to focus on my career.” Maybe making it about work instead of him will lessen the blow.
“No, Rosalynn. I think you need a man to take care of you, so you can finally embrace your feminine side.” He tugs me closer. “Every woman needs a protector.”
What in the alpha-bro podcast is he smoking?
“Like I said, I’m happily single?—”
He huffs. “Will you stop playing hard to get already? We could be great together.”
Don’t give in.
“I don’t have time to date.” I lift a shoulder. “But I’m sure a man like you won’t stay single for long.” The song is coming to an end, and I pointedly step back, wrenching my hand out of his grasp. “Thank you for the dance.”
Slipping away before he can try to stop me, I quickly glance around for an escape. Dad is surrounded by men and women, eager for his attention. I leave him to the parasites and skirt around tables and hit the bar, ordering a martini. Luckily, another woman swooped in for a dance with Eric, and propriety keeps him from denying her.
As soon as my drink is in hand, I flee to the wraparound terrace, breathing in the fresh, crisp autumn air. It’s cold enough that the terrace is mostly empty, and best of all, Eric is still inside.
Leaning against the railing, one hand casually holding on to the top bar, I take a sip of my drink and study the skyline. From the sixty-fourth floor, New York City is a beautiful display of lights whose reflections glitter along the East River.
A gust of wind sweeps against my back, tendrils of my hair whipping and lashing the air, and a shiver skates down my spine. But I’d rather be cold than go back inside. I enjoy working with my dad. I love connecting with him through his business. It’s always been one of the most important things to him.
But the schmoozing and ass-kissing kill me inside.
Sometimes I want the freedom to kick Eric Vanderbelt in the nuts. That’s not how the business works, though.
Every nerve snaps to attention, alerting me to approaching danger. The small hairs on the back of my neck rise. Gooseflesh rushes down my arm, and I brace myself for Eric’s company.
“Careful, you might fall,” a deep voice says behind me.
Oh, thank god, it’s not Eric .
My relief is short lived. Dare is still a monster.
“And will you be the one to push me?” I muse, taking a sip of my martini and not bothering to turn around. I won’t let him think he’s scared me yet again. My grip tightens on the railing, nonetheless.
The air thickens as he edges closer, his energy magnetic and stifling. Part of me desperately wants to turn around to watch him prowl toward me. I furrow my brow and concentrate on the skyline.
Dare stands beside me. “Are you going to give me a reason to push you?”
Guilt gnaws at my insides. I never should have mentioned his sisters. “Why are you here?”
“I was invited. ”
As was every member of JD Miller & Co’s board, along with the richest of NYC’s socialites. Dare never comes to these events. Which means he’s here for one reason, and one reason alone.
Me.
He rests his hand on the railing, his pinky brushing against mine.
I swing my head in his direction, startled by how close he is. Square jawline, plump lips, sharp nose, clear, fair complexion and eyebrows any woman would envy, save the little scar cutting across the one on the right, there’s no denying how handsome Dare is.
Too bad he’s on my shit list.
Shifting enough that my hand slides inches away from his, I turn and stare the beast straight in the eye. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe,” I confess. “But if you were going to hurt me, you wouldn’t do it with so many witnesses.”
His mouth twitches at the corners. “You threatened my family.”
“You cornered me and I took a shot.” I shrug. “But you can relax, sweetheart. Murder isn’t my kink.” I give him a pointed look.
“Have you tried it?”
“No.”
He rubs his hand over his chin. “More into missionary, then?”
Oh good, he’s insulting me some more.
“I’m surprised you know what that is. Here I thought you were a virgin,” I fire back.
“Spread your legs, and I’ll show you how much a virgin I am.” He adjusts himself in his pants .
Heat floods my cheeks and I don’t look down. Definitely not.
“Aw, now who’s the blushing virgin? Did Daddy not give you permission to have sex yet?” He tsks. “Such a shame with thighs like yours.”
My upper lip curls. “You really are a beast, aren’t you?”
There’s no reason to censor myself when it comes to Dare. No one likes him.
His features darken and he shakes his head, cracking his knuckles. “You think you know me, princess?”
“I know enough.” I finish off my martini. “You got that tattoo last year.” When I point to the demon-like creature covering the back of his hand, his gaze follows my movement. “On the anniversary of your parents’ deaths.”
Scrutinizing me, he curls his fingers into fists. “Have you been looking into me?”
“Mmm. Better to know your enemies, wouldn’t you say?”
“I didn’t take you for a stalker, Rose.”
“In your dreams, Dare.”
“More like nightmares,” he says without missing a beat. He squints. “What else have you learned?”
My gaze tracks over the hard lines of his jaw. I probably shouldn’t go into it, but I don’t like that he continues to surprise me. I’m used to wrangling control of the situation, and if showing some of my hand accomplishes that, then so be it.
“I also know, occasionally, you take someone home, only to kick them out around midnight.” Dare bristles, clearly uncomfortable with how much I really have learned, but I continue, anyway. “I’m guessing you make them leave because you hate sharing your bed.” Tipping my head, I watch the annoyance shimmering in his dark irises. “Or maybe it’s because you’re afraid of love.”
“And what would a Miller know about love?”
The question hits me harder than it should. I’ve had more than my fair share of failed relationships. Looking away, I admit, “I guess no more than you.”
A quiet moment passes between us.
The vetiver of his scent twines around my body as he shifts closer. “What else do you think you know about me?”
“You’re lonely.”
He scoffs. “I’m not lonely.”
“You are.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because I see it in your eyes.” I give him a wry grin. “I think people like us all suffer from the same affliction.”
Gazing across the skyline behind me, his dark eyes going distant, he murmurs, “You mean, knowing that every decision we make in the boardroom impacts millions of lives, and while they might recognize your name from the company’s letterhead, they don’t ever really think of the person behind the curtain, only the wizard who keeps denying them what they need?”
Sighing, he glances down at me, and I can’t help feeling like I’m catching a glimpse of the man behind the machine.
“Or how they’ll take every shot they have to vilify you until you, yourself, begin to wonder if they’re right. Like, maybe you are every terrible thing that’s ever been written about you and more?”
My breath catches. The words hit close to home, but I’m not the only one the tabloids rip apart. Dare’s been targeted several times, and the fact that he’s experienced the same existential crisis is unnerving.
He gives me a doubtful once-over and smirks. “But you don’t expect me to believe you have feelings, do you? The ice princess?”
Ouch .
A tired laugh slips out of me. “You got me, Dare. I’m that vapid, soulless puppet who dances when her daddy says. And with all my breakups, I’m definitely the coldhearted bitch no man could ever want. That, or the pounds I’ve put on since my teenage years have chased them all away.”
He gives me a funny look—one that almost borders on pity—and I realize I’ve exposed my wounds, and all he has to do to make me hurt is dig his fingers in.
Come on, Rose. What are you doing? He’s not your friend. There’s no reason to try and make conversation. He’s here to threaten you because you’re close to finally figuring out how to get him under JD Miller & Co’s thumb. Maybe it’s time to remind him.
“What would a woman like me know about feelings, right? Or murder, for that matter? But you know, don’t you? What was it? Three people last year...your parents?—”
Dare advances, and I stumble back with a gasp, my ass hitting the corner of the railing. He cages me in. My heart slams against my rib cage, eyes bouncing between the depths of his.
Leaning close, he lowers his face until his lips are inches from mine because I refuse to back down. “I didn’t kill my parents.”
“But you have killed?” I ask.
His dark chuckle brushes over me, dangerous and sharp as glass. A warning. A red flag. A blaring siren, telling me it’s time to head for shelter. My legs tremble and my heart is racing, the muscle hammering against my chest so hard, he can probably hear it .
Back down. You’ve already pissed him off enough .
Closing the slight distance between us, he ghosts his lips over my cheek until they settle against my ear. He’s so tall, his shoulder cuts off my view of the gala. I’m trapped out here with him. To anyone looking, they’d think we were making out, but I take it for the threat that it is.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, princess.”
I press my palm against his hard chest. “I don’t know, Dare, murder isn’t that complicated. You either did it or you didn’t.” Shoving him, I try to put space between us, but he’s as immovable as a mountain.
Dare pulls back and pins me with a look. “Murder is always complicated in our world, but you know that by now, don’t you?”
Mom .
No. Don’t let him get inside your head. There’s no way he knows Dad’s competitors had her killed, right? That’s the best kept secret in the Miller family. The entire world thinks she died of natural causes. I would, too, had I not seen what happened.
It took years for my dad to finally admit the truth to me. Years of nightmares before Dad realized telling me what happened might be the key to convincing me that monsters weren’t real, or at least, the sort of monsters that haunted my dreams weren’t.
The man in front of me, though . . .
“For the record, your body is perfect,” he purrs, checking me out.
My mouth falls open and heat floods my cheeks. I’m comfortable with the way I look, but the media doesn’t hold back when they tear it apart. The validation that I’m still attractive, even to Dare, is nice.
His gaze roves over my face, likely memorizing the emotions I’ve put on display. “But they’re right about a few things, aren’t they?” Dare grabs a lock of my hair, wrapping the brunette strand around his finger. “The princess. The pawn. The fool.”
“Let me go,” I demand, the calm and collected Rose nowhere to be found. Dare has a knack for breaking the control I usually hold over my emotions.
He immediately backs away, releasing my hair. His sudden retreat hits me harder than the chilly breeze his body was blocking. Someone shifts by the door, and my gaze flies to meet theirs. Olive skin tone, hard jaw, dressed in all black, the giant man stares ahead, as if he’s not watching, but there’s a rigidness about him. Like he’s painfully aware of everything going on inside the party and out here on the balcony.
Dare’s bodyguard made no move to protect me from him. But why would he? He’s probably paid well enough, he’d simply avert his gaze if Dare were to hurt me, and no one inside would notice until it was too late.
Time to play nice.
Straightening, I look at Dare, fighting the scowl that’s threatening to wrinkle my face. “No matter how much I hate you and everything you stand for, I would never hurt someone. You can stop with the theatrics and whatever game you’re playing, Dare. Your sisters are safe.”
When Dare glances over his shoulder, I follow his gaze to where my dad is still being schmoozed. Lines cut across my forehead. He wouldn’t hurt my dad to make his point, would he?
Slowly, he looks back at me, his lips pressed into a hard line. I don’t know him well enough to understand his expression, other than recognizing it’s not a happy one .
“I promise your sisters aren’t in any danger,” I say. No one even knows where they are.
“A Miller’s promise for me?” Dare places his hand on his chest. “I’m honored.” With that, he spins on his heel and storms away, toward the elevator. His bodyguard shoots me a venomous look. They both leave me in a wake of confusion and anxiety.
I know, without a doubt, I’ll be seeing Dare again.