Chapter thirteen #2
“Be careful,” I say to Tilly, “your uncle has ears everywhere tonight.” She moves to stand in front of me and shrugs.
“It hasn’t stopped me saying what I think before. He’s getting what he wants—I am marrying that old man.” She glances to where her uncle chats with her future husband. “The price of that is I will never say a kind word about him again.”
“Your uncle and father only want what’s best for you, Miss.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps, then steps toward me.
I glance down, then try to keep my eyes focused just above her head.
She looks stunning tonight. Her long silver gown clings to every curve, she’s wearing sky-high heels, and loose blonde curls fall around her shoulders.
“You and I both know what’s best for me isn’t their top priority. We didn’t spend days together—”
“Miss, please. This isn’t the place or time to have this conversation.”
“When is, Greyson? Because I haven’t seen you since you left me in our hotel room after we fucked.”
“Please keep your voice down,” I mutter, my eyes roaming the room for anyone listening in.
“This isn’t the place,” I repeat as she shuffles closer again.
I feel the sensation of fingers stroking the back of my hand, and my cock hardens in my trousers.
Shit, she’s really going to play this game here and now.
As she turns away, she touches my crotch and blinks up at me.
“I have nothing to lose. My life is ending whether I continue to breathe or not. I may as well enjoy what I can now. You can’t hide how you feel about me,” she says with a smile. “You said you would be there. I need you, now, so come, boy.”
I watch in horror as she stalks across the room toward where her uncle and future husband stands. The false, over-confident persona she wore with pride before our unexpected trip together is back and firmly in place. I dread to think what she has planned.
After remembering to turn back on my earpiece, Damon immediately starts barking orders down the line.
Known Russian assailants have been spotted in the area at a local restaurant, and the risk level has been increased from substantial to severe.
My issue with Tilly will need to wait until I navigate the current situation.
“All eyes in the room are on the Devane Family,” he growls, clearly stressed by the unexpected sighting. “More men are on the doors, but these bastards are wily. All of you stay alert, and if there is a sniff of danger, get them out of there. Do you understand, Greyson?”
“Yes, sir.”
The evening continues without incident. Everyone has eaten their meal, and now guests have started to stand and mingle.
A few ladies have headed to the dance floor, Tilly amongst them.
All looking to be in their twenties, they bounce around happily to whatever tune the band plays.
Together they are a swirl of sequins and highlights.
I haven’t seen any interaction between Tilly and her future husband.
He hasn’t so much as glanced her way even when sat across from each other on the same table.
The distance between them a clear indication that their partnership to each other isn’t important.
The ridiculous thought that she’s his future bride seems even more obscene now I watch the two of them in the same room. She deserves so much more.
As midnight approaches, people become more drunk and inhibitions lower. My focus rarely leaves her as she sips wine and dances with women her own age. I could almost believe the smile on her face was real if I hadn’t spent the hours with her, I had. It’s all a fa?ade.
With half an hour to go until the bells, Hunter steps up onto the stage. He takes hold of the microphone and straightens his bowtie.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he addresses his audience, the soft lilt of his faint Irish accent more noticeable in his slightly inebriated state. “First of all, I want to thank you all for being here. We certainly have a lot to be celebrating as we move into the new year.”
His wife steps up to join him as he holds out his hand to her. She is a stunning woman with dark eyes and long brown hair pinned high above her head. The red dress she wears complements her tanned complexion.
“As some of you know, Isabella and I have reconnected in recent months. I am delighted to be stepping into the New Year with her by my side. But it’s not only our good fortune we’re here to celebrate. Tilly, come join us.”
The room falls silent as Tilly makes her way up onto the stage, looking decidedly uncomfortable at being made center of attention. Her uncle takes her hand and kisses her knuckles gently before turning back to the crowd. He certainly loves to put on a show.
“After years of Miss Devane being our family thorn.” The people listening on chuckle nastily, and I feel my hackles rise in her defense. “I am delighted to announce that she will be wedded to none other than Domenico Lombardi himself.”
Lombardi strolls up onto the stage. He has aged well for a man who could be his future wife’s grandfather, but there’s no hiding the age difference.
He takes Hunter’s hand and shakes firmly before moving his attention to Tilly.
Taking both her hands in his, he pulls her toward him then plants a kiss on her lips.
Her whole body tenses, and on instinct, I step forward.
A strong hand grabs my arm, and I look to my side to see Damon watching on beside me.
“This is not your fight,” he says, quietly, digging his nails into my skin. I lift my finger to turn off our communication system to argue when a gunshot rings out across the hall and the guests scatter.
I do the only thing I can and run for Tilly.