Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
GIDEON
I can tell the exact moment Penelope’s brain overloads.
Penelope looks like she’s going to drop. Or cry. Or throw her drink at all three of us. Her pulse is jumping at her throat, her knuckles white around the empty champagne flute. This is too much for her.
Silas sees it too. His posture shifts from shock to something sharper, protective and tense. His jaw flexes, his shoulders square, and his eyes stay locked on her.
Talon…
Talon looks delighted. Because of course he does. Chaos loves him, and he loves it right back. He adjusts his glasses and grins at her like he just won something he didn’t even know he was competing for.
Penelope looks like she’s going to faint. Or vomit. Or both. And that’s when everything inside me snaps into focus. She’s spiraling.
I don’t say her name aloud—I don’t need to. I step closer, angled just enough that if she wavers, she’ll hit me, not the floor.
Talon is the student, the one who threatened her. Talon—my nephew—is the one pushing her to go on a date with him while Silas and I are stupidly trying to date the same woman.
All of it clicks together like a lock I never wanted opened.
Silas moves at the same time I do, coming up on her other side. He lowers his voice. “Angel, breathe.”
Penelope swallows hard. “I am breathing.”
“Not well,” I say. “Your pulse is visible.”
She shoots me a look like she wants to argue but doesn’t have the energy. Her hand shakes slightly. It’s enough. More than enough.
“We need to get you out of here,” I murmur.
She shakes her head immediately, panic flaring. “I can’t leave. This is my dad’s—”
“You can,” I interrupt gently. “You just don’t want to draw attention.”
Silas nods. “Say you have a headache.”
The corner of her mouth twitches like she might laugh or cry or bite someone. “You two are ridiculous.”
“And you’re overwhelmed,” I counter. “Let us help.”
Before she can respond, Talon steps closer to Penelope, practically shoulder to shoulder, eyes scanning her face like he’s cataloging every twitch. “Help with what?”
She stiffens. It’s tiny, but I see it.
I shift my stance, putting myself slightly between them. “Talon, not now.”
He ignores me. “You’re leaving?”
Penelope swallows. “I just need some air.”
“With them?” His voice cracks on the word them, the jealousy noticeable. But underneath the jealousy, there’s something darker building. Something possessive. Something that makes my jaw tense.
Silas steps in closer. “She doesn’t answer to you.”
“But she answers to you two?” Talon snaps back. “Seriously?”
Penelope’s eyes squeeze shut for half a second like she’s prepping for impact.
I take a step closer to Talon. “Penelope needs space.”
“I was talking to her,” he fires back.
“And she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Silas says, voice rough.
Talon’s jaw twitches. “Because she’s sleeping with both of you?”
Penelope flinches.
I let out a slow breath. “This isn’t a conversation we’re having at this party, around all these people.”
Talon crosses his arms, chest puffed like he’s gearing up for a fight. “Then when? After you two drag her away from her dad’s house like you’re rescuing a princess?”
Silas looks seconds from breaking his nose.
Penelope groans into her palms. “Please, stop.”
But Talon doesn’t. He lowers his voice, eyes locked on her. “You came on my fingers just this week and you’re fucking my uncles?”
She lifts her head slowly, exhaustion clinging to her. “Talon, I didn’t know who they were.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I’m going to pass out.”
That’s when I make the call.
“Penelope,” I say, voice low and steady, “we’re leaving.”
Talon’s head snaps toward me. “I’m coming too.”
“No,” Silas says.
“Excuse me?” Talon snaps.
“You’re staying,” I tell him. “You’re going to stay here and babysit Abi.”
Talon scoffs. “I’m not—”
“You threatened her,” I remind him. “You’re pissed, and it’s not helping. Stay here and get your shit together, and keep an eye on your fucking mother.”
His mouth shuts so fast his teeth click.
Penelope whispers, “I can’t vanish without saying something.” She glares daggers at me, but she doesn’t argue. She turns and walks toward her father, shoulders tight and brave.
Talon watches her go, eyes burning with something dangerous. “This isn’t over.”
“No,” I say calmly. “It isn’t.” He storms off before he hears the rest.
Penelope returns, pale and shaky. “He bought it.”
Silas nods. “Good. Let’s go.”
We guide her out the side door, away from the music and laughter that feel like they belong in a different reality. By the time we reach her car, she’s quiet, like her mind is somewhere far away and spiraling fast.
“Keys,” Silas says gently.
She hands them over without hesitation.
I slip into the passenger seat while Silas starts the engine. Penelope folds herself into the back, dress swishing around her legs.
Silas pulls onto the road. And from the backseat, barely above a whisper, Penelope mutters. “Perfect. Not only have I fucked my step-uncle, my soon to be stepmom's dead husband’s brother...but also let their nephew finger blitz me in a supply closet. Amazing… I'm doing just great!”
Silas chokes on his own breath.
She covers her face instantly. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
“You did,” I say, somehow managing not to laugh or swear. “And I think we all needed the honesty.”
She groans. “Kill me.”
“No,” I say. “We need you alive.”
“This is hell.”
Silas glances at me, then at her through the rearview mirror. “We’re in it with you.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” I add.
Penelope peeks between her fingers, eyes exhausted but warming. A tiny smile breaks through.
It’s messy.
It’s insane.
It’s dangerous.
And somehow—God help us all—it feels like the beginning.
TALON
I watch her taillights disappear down the drive. Penelope’s car, with both my uncles inside it, carrying her away from this place and from me. My chest feels tight in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
The party noise swells behind me. Clinking glasses, polite laughter, someone fake-laughing a little too loud. String music floats through the open doors, like the whole house is insisting this is a pretty night and nothing bad is allowed to exist inside it.
Too late.
“Talon.” My mother’s voice grates.
I turn around slowly.
She's standing by the wine fountain, one hand braced on her hip, a glass of white wine in the other. Her smile is tight enough to crack porcelain. Her eyes, however, are anything but soft.
“Where did she go?” she demands.
I shrug, keeping my expression loose. “Headache. She needed to leave.”
Mom’s mouth hardens. “She left. In the middle of her father’s engagement celebration. How thoughtful.”
“She didn’t feel well.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “It happens.”
“She could have pushed through,” she says. “Everyone is here. She’s supposed to be representing the family. Instead, she walks out like a sulky child.”
I feel my jaw tighten before I can stop it. “She’s not a child.”
“Then she should act like an adult,” she snaps, her voice low enough that the words do not carry back into the party. “And I’m sure Chad is in there making excuses for her. Do you have any idea how that looks for him, Talon, having his daughter bail on such an important night?”
“She’s been working her ass off,” I shoot back. “School. TA work. She has a life outside this house. Not everyone can float around drinking wine and micromanaging linen choices.”
Mom’s eyes narrow.
There it is. That dangerous little flash that says I have just hit a nerve.
“Watch your tone,” she says.
I feel a bubble of laughter push up my throat, bitter and amused. “Or what? You send me back across the country and revoke my caviar privileges? I’m an adult, and you can’t send me away that easily now.”
Her mouth presses flat. “You have no idea how difficult you are making this.”
“Me?” I huff. “I’m not the one throwing a surprise engagement gala like it’s a royal coronation, then getting pissed when someone’s body taps out.”
She takes a step down toward me, heels clicking on the stone.
“You are so quick to defend her,” Mom says. “You barely know her.”
I think about Penelope. Her mouth. Her eyes. Her irritation. Her softness. The way she handled a flogger at Velvet like she was born with it in her hand, then turned around and graded my sociology assignment like I was the only idiot in the room.
I swallow. “I know enough.”
My mom’s expression curdles. “You’re disgusting. She’s going to be your sister.”
“Step,” I grind out.
“She’ll leave you like all the other whores. Poor Talon with another broken heart.”
I laugh once. “You’d need to believe I have one first.”
She stares at me for a beat, then lets out a short, humorless breath. “Come along, I don’t want guests thinking my son is a spoiled, ungrateful bitch like Penelope.”
The last thing I want to do is go back in there with all those fake smiles and carefully arranged floral centerpieces. I want to punch something. Or find Penelope and let her yell at me until she feels better. Or peel my mother’s secrets off her like old wallpaper and see what rots underneath.
But I follow her inside. For now.
The servers are clearing plates, bringing out desserts that look like they took a team and a blueprint to assemble. Chad is at the far end of the room talking to some guy in a suit with a tan that has clearly never seen real sunlight.
“Talon, sweetheart, smile,” Mom hisses through her teeth. “You look like someone died.”
I mutter, “Not yet,” before I can stop myself.
Her head whips around, eyes sharp. I plaster on something that might pass for a grin and head for the drink table. I pour water instead of more booze because I can feel the thin line between pissed and reckless getting too close.
She glides back to Chad’s side. To everyone else, she looks like a perfect hostess. To me, she looks like a bomb in a sequined dress.