Chapter 29
twenty-nine
ROSE
Throughout my life, I’ve been to countless holiday parties for various companies. I’ve waltzed on a hundred dance floors, wearing that carefully crafted smile to appease the oily business people who wanted to win my dad’s favor.
But it’s different this time.
Dare glances at me in the elevator. We’re alone on the ride up to the sixtieth floor. His gaze sweeps over the simple but elegant mermaid gown. The dusky pink color complements my skin tone, and the smoky eyeshadow brings out the lighter notes of color in my hazel eyes. My brunette locks are lightly curled, hanging long and loose and sleek. If I were with my dad, this outfit never would have worked. The dress is too tight. There’s too much cleavage. There’s far too much softness on display.
And lest I ever forget, Millers aren’t soft.
I brace for Dare’s judgment. To tell me I should’ve worn something less sexy. To question my choices. For him to tell me how to act and who to target.
But the beast simply lifts his gaze to meet mine, unmistakable hunger darkening his irises. “Who do you belong to?”
“No one.”
I don’t expect him to throw his head back and laugh, a full, delightfully deep sound that draws me closer. I stop myself before Dare can realize the pull he has over me.
“Oh, Rose,” he says, voice a little throaty and strained. “The way you torture me is unlike anything I’ve ever known.”
It’s inexplicable, but that confession warms my chest. “What are wives for, if not to drive their husbands mad?” Our eyes lock and something almost tender passes between us.
Dare grabs my forearm and draws me closer, and I go willingly, tired of fighting what my body wants. “You almost said you were my wife.”
“You have a strange obsession with that word.”
He smirks. “Mmm, perhaps.” Toying with a strand of my hair, he searches my face, his lips parting to ask a question, but before he can, the elevator dings and the doors sweep open. The roar of music and chatter cuts between us, breaking the moment.
Dare steps away. “Ready to party?”
“Who are we here to win over?” I ask as we make our way up to the check-in.
Dare gives me a look. “What?”
That’s how he wants to play it, huh?
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me there isn’t someone here you’re trying to win over.”
“Rose. It’s a party. ”
I take a breath and force my jaw to relax. “I know that.”
Dare studies me for a moment, then curses, muttering something about my dad under his breath.
“Checking in?”
Dare nods. “Dare and Rose Richardson.”
“Richardson, Richardson, oh! There you are.” The bubbly young attendant grins at the both of us, despite how uncomfortable her starched uniform looks. “Have a wonderful time. The bar is free. The DJ is the best in the city. Oh, and there are snacks floating around somewhere.”
Dare grabs my wrist and drags me toward the party.
“Thank you,” I murmur to the attendant as we pass.
Dare doesn’t stop until we’re at the bar. His jaw is clenched tight as he waits for the bartender to notice him. Something in the last few minutes set him off.
“I’m sorry?—”
“Why are you apologizing?” he demands.
“Because you’re mad?”
Dare’s eyebrows are drawn down hard, and the one with the scar appears especially incensed. “I’m not.”
I scoff and reach up to smooth my hand over the scar.
He catches my wrist, but his grip is soft, gaze questioning.
My throat tightens. “You’re upset. Tell me why.”
“Bossy as always.”
“You don’t have to,” I say, annoyed that I expected him to tell me. These past few weeks have been confusing. We’ve learned so much about each other, and yet, maybe we know nothing at all. I tug on my wrist, but his hold is firm.
“I’m not mad at you,” he whispers. “Your dad, on the other hand.” Dare shakes his head.
I don’t entirely understand, but it’s enough to undo the tension tightening my chest.
“Can I take your order?” The bartender’s voice is strained and harried.
Dare kisses my palm before releasing my hand. The caress of his lips scorches across my skin. “Rose?” He prompts me to order first.
My eyes shoot to the bartender, but he simply stares back expectantly, fingers tapping on the bar top, oblivious to the fact that Dare has, yet again, shown how different he is from my dad. With my dad, what I want is always an afterthought.
“I’ll have a Malbec.”
Dare’s lips twitch. “I’ll have a martini. Extra dirty.” He side-eyes me.
I roll my eyes and turn to take in the crowd. There are at least a hundred people, if not more, milling about. Lights are suspended in the air, strung across the dance floor, which is close to full. Servers in stark-white, starched uniforms carry hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne, offering them to guests. Gold and diamonds glitter throughout the room, a few people in attendance practically dripping in jewelry.
The attendees themselves are all smiles and laughs. They’re enjoying themselves, and the freedom to do the same is almost overwhelming. I’m not sure I know how to let loose at an event like this, after years of working at them. The tables are covered by silky black cloths, and once our drinks are in hand, Dare leads me to one set off from the stage. I snag a few hors d’oeuvres on the way.
Dare narrows his gaze when I move to sit across from him.
I scowl back. “Don’t think you can tell me where to sit. ”
A challenge glints in his eyes. “I’d never.”
“Liar.”
Dare chuckles and stands, pushing a chair until it’s right next to mine, then slowly takes his seat. His muscled thigh brushes against mine. My heart skips. Dare stretches his arm across the back of my chair and brushes his knuckles over my bare shoulder. Gooseflesh ripples down my arm.
Is he doing this on purpose? Trying to provoke me yet again? I shoot him a look, but he’s busy staring at the dance floor and sipping on his drink, like he hasn’t a care in the world. Part of me doesn’t trust it. Who’s to say this isn’t his big chance to humiliate me?
“Relax, Rose,” he murmurs, his keen gaze cutting through me. “It’s a party.”
Remy drops into the seat across from us. His tux isn’t as nice as Dare’s, but the bodyguard cleans up good. A classic black and white tuxedo with a bowtie, of all things. Beard line freshly trimmed and manicured, short dark hair slicked back. Remy almost looks like a proper gentleman.
But why is he here? It’s not like someone is going to attack us in the middle of a party.
I arch an eyebrow. “Really?”
The bodyguard shrugs. “Don’t blame me.”
Dare nods at Remy. “All good?”
“We’re good.” Remy’s entire body is coiled tight, like, at any moment, someone could attack. He scans the crowd with practiced ease.
To anyone who didn’t know better, he might look like he fits in, but the bulk of the gun at his side sets him apart. And the hardness of his aura is a dead giveaway that he’s not some rich socialite. This is a man who has seen, and possibly done, unfathomable things .
The partygoers aren’t worried. They’re ignorant, with their perceived safety. They don’t see the world as something threatening.
But Remy does.
I glance at Dare, who was studying me while I watched Remy. There, in his dark brown irises, is a darkness I have yet to truly meet. Dare is more like Remy than he is anyone at this party. The questions are at the tip of my tongue.
What happened?
Why are you like this?
But something holds me back. It could be the slight shake of his head. Or the way his eyes flit to my wine glass, which I have yet to touch, a silent reprimand to let it go. It’s a party, Rose.
He was so appalled by the idea of using the night to our advantage. Does he really come to these things to have... fun ?
I don’t even know the last time I had fun at an event like this, and that’s really sad.
Shaking my head, I pick up the wine and take a big sip. Dare nods in approval. The pad of his finger traces a circle on my shoulder. And bit by bit, I relax.
Two glasses of wine later, I’m slightly buzzed and ready to dance, but Dare left to refill our drinks. Remy watches the crowd with a line between his eyebrows. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d rather be with Dare than left to babysit me.
His outfit isn’t so different from Dare’s, but where Dare wears his like a second skin, Remy wears it with a brutal sort of elegance. The top buttons of his shirt are undone. The seams around the shoulders strain against his bulk. It’s like someone stuffed Hulk into a tux two sizes too small.
“Why are you grinning at me like that?” he snaps.
I’d be grumpy too if I was forced to wear clothes fit for a toddler.
“You hate this, don’t you?”
Remy’s eyes drift to meet mine. “I don’t get paid to have an opinion,” he says, bored and wholly uninterested.
I tip my head. “But you do have one, don’t you?”
He presses his lips together, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He’s not going to talk to me. Too bad for him, with Dare gone, he’s the only other person I want to socialize with.
Grinning, I lean toward him. “Oh, come on, Remy. Tell me what you really think.”
“Fucking hell, woman. Do you hear yourself?” Remy shakes his head.
I bristle. “It was only a question.”
“No. It was a demand. Rich little brats like you think you can—” He cuts himself off, gaze flying to Dare, who is waiting at the bar.
Right. Stupid me. Of course, he wants nothing to do with me.
“Don’t stop now, Remy. Say it with your chest.” It won’t be anything I haven’t heard before. Maybe I was being a little demanding, but it’s not like I’ve been ordering him around.
Remy scowls at me. The man glaring at me now isn’t the carefully attentive bodyguard. It’s a more sinister part of himself, a darkness not so unlike the beast that lurks within Dare’s gaze from time to time. “Dare is family.”
“Funny. I don’t see the resemblance,” I tease, hoping to lighten the moment instead of ruining it .
“I know you think you’re cute, but I’m telling you right now, if you betray Dare, I’ll kill you myself.”
The words slice through me. I’m not his friend. He doesn’t like me. It’s fine. After weeks of being around him and seeing him nearly every day, I’ve started to like him. Though he’s always gruff, he’s kind in ways that matter, though that kindness never extends to me.
Looking away, I sigh. “Well. What would a party be without the threat of death?” I push out of my chair, and he starts to stand, but I snap, “Don’t bother,” and he drops back into his seat.
I slip through the crowd and find a powder room. A woman in a gorgeous black gown with black silk gloves stands at the mirror, refreshing her lipstick. Her honey blonde hair is swept back into a loose chignon. Something about her is familiar, but I can’t quite remember who she is.
She pauses and glances at me. “A man?”
She doesn’t know the half of it. “Isn’t it always?” I say with a sigh.
With a grin, she returns to her task, repainting her lips a deep burgundy red. “You look sexy as hell, so at least there’s that.”
Laughing, I join her at the mirror and fix a few errant strands of hair. “I love your dress.”
Her answering smile is soft. “Thanks. I’m Avery.”
“Rose.” I study her again. I swear I’ve seen her before. “Have we met?”
Avery moves with almost ethereal grace. A woman who’s never questioned her power or destiny. She’s probably never let anyone control her. “Did you make him regret it?” she asks, not answering my question, but I let it slide.
I chuckle. Remy is not someone I want to start a fight with. I’ll tease and poke, but self- preservation says don’t enrage him . “Not really.” I try to place her. Have we been at the same events? Though, it would be hard to forget her. “Really, have we met before?”
She hums and caps her lipstick, putting the tube in her clutch. “Maybe.” Avery struts toward the door, her aura magnetic. Almost like she was meant to be on a stage. She pauses, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Don’t forget your thorns, okay? Roses are more than a pretty flower.” She leaves, and all the light in the room chases after her.
When the door closes, I’m painfully aware of how alone I am. I stare at my reflection. Even though I appear rattled, the dusky pink mermaid dress is pretty. The curls in my hair still look amazing. It isn’t right to feel so sad when I look this good. I need to pull it together, but Remy’s threat is hard to shake.
Before Dare and I got married, there was a very real possibility that we would stay enemies until the day we died, but the last few weeks have been eye-opening, and not in the best way. Dare is quickly teaching me that, perhaps, I can’t trust my dad after all.
And if that’s true, Cassia is the only person in my corner.
Is it possible for Dare to be on my side?
Maybe it’s time to stop resisting my husband and embrace my new name.