35. Wren #2
Under his breath, Lucian mutters, “Do you?”
I elbow him lightly.
He doesn’t look remotely sorry.
Elise’s gaze snaps toward him, then returns to Ronan. “We will discuss this later.”
“No,” Ronan says. One word. Calm. Final.
Ronan steps slightly closer to me, his hand settling at the small of my back again.
This time, it is not subtle. “If you want to discuss donor seating, campaign messaging, or the charity auction, I’m happy to help.
If you want to talk about Wren like she’s a problem, we’re done. ”
My throat tightens.
Elise looks at him for several seconds. Then, slowly, her expression shifts into something polished again. Political.
“Enjoy the evening,” she says perfunctorily.
Ronan nods once. “We intend to.”
She turns and moves back into the crowd like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just watch her son choose me in a room full of people.
For a moment, none of us speaks. It’s Lucian who breaks the ice.
“If I’d known these things were so exciting, I’d have come when you first started inviting me.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it.
Ronan gives him a flat look. “Really?”
“What? While I prefer a bloodbath style execution, I have respect for that political version.”
Silas snorts.
Ronan sighs, but the corner of his mouth softens.
I look up at him, emotion lodged somewhere painful beneath my ribs. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” he says simply. “I did.” Staring down at me, he adds, “And I’d do it again. I will choose you. Every. Single. Time.”
And the thing is, I believe him, because he says it like choosing me in public is the easiest decision in the world.
For the first time tonight, I don’t feel like I’m walking into enemy territory.
I feel like I brought my army.
After Elise leaves, we move further into the fundraiser, even though I’m pretty sure all any of us wants to do is leave.
But something inside me has shifted. For the first time since arriving, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for something to go wrong.
I feel…steady.
Ronan’s heat envelops my back as we move through the room, a warm reminder that I’m not alone. Not anymore. Lucian remains on my right, periodically stealing food from passing trays, while Silas stays on my left, quiet and steady as a shadow.
A few people stop Ronan to congratulate him on his draft season. Others recognize his mother and attempt to use him as a bridge to political introductions.
To his credit, he handles every conversation with effortless charm.
To Lucian’s credit, he only insults one donor.
“I wasn’t insulting him,” he argues as we move away from an older man in an expensive suit.
“You told him his investment strategy sounded like a pyramid scheme,” I point out.
“It did.”
“Lucian,” I groan, knowing he doesn’t have the first clue if it’s a pyramid scheme or not. Ronan pinches the bridge of his nose while Silas’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.
A woman I vaguely recognize from the charity weekend approaches a few minutes later.
“Excuse me.” She smiles warmly. “You’re Gwendolyn Winslow, right?”
For a split second, I brace myself.
“My son attended the Kings’ charity weekend.”
Something warm blooms in my chest. “Oh.”
“He had the best time.” The woman smiles wider. “He hasn’t stopped talking about it.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Really?”
She nods. “My son has autism. He usually struggles with events like that. They’re too loud and chaotic, but the sensory room you arranged meant he was able to step away when he got overloaded.”
I remember that room. I remember fighting with management over the necessity for it and inspecting every inch of the building to identify the perfect space.
The woman continues. “For the first time, he got to participate in everything.”
Emotion lodges somewhere painful behind my ribs.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “You have no idea how much that meant.”
I blink rapidly. “Uhh… Y-you’re welcome.”
Brilliant response, Wren.
She laughs softly before moving away. I stare after her for several seconds.
For so long I’ve been trying to figure out where I fit. Who I am. What I want. And every conversation lately keeps pointing me toward the same answer.
A hand brushes my lower back.
“You okay?” Ronan asks.
I nod, momentarily rendered speechless.
The moment lasts all of thirty seconds before a familiar voice cuts through the crowd.
“Gwendolyn.”
Every muscle in my body locks. My smile slides from my face.
Slowly, reluctantly, as though drawing out every last second, I turn.
My father stands several feet away. He’s dressed to perfection in a tailored tuxedo.
His posture is perfect, his expression controlled.
My mother is beside him, looking every bit as immaculate as ever.
The warmth I’d been carrying evaporates instantly.
“Father.”
His gaze sweeps over me. There’s no warmth in it. No genuine happiness at seeing his daughter, even though it’s been months.
“Green is certainly a choice,” my mother states, her smile making it sound like a compliment when it’s really not. “Especially with your pale complexion.”
There it is. The first paper cut.
“It’s a little…loud for a setting such as this.”
Lucian makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff. My mother’s gaze flicks toward him briefly before returning to me.
“Although, I suppose that’s always been your preference.”
Paper cut number two.
The old version of me would’ve smiled away the awkwardness. Brushed the hurt under the carpet.
The new version? The new version is fucking tired.
“Good to see you, as always, Mother.”
Her smile tightens.
“I’d just been telling Wren before you arrived that she was looking stunning tonight,” Ronan smoothly slides in. “The green really brings out her eyes.”
“Well, yes, of course,” my mother quickly covers herself. “She’s fortunate enough to get her cheekbones and clear skin from me.”
Ah yes, naturally, any good qualities I have are thanks to my mother.
Father steps in, shaking hands with each of the guys. “Boys, it’s good to see you. You’ve been playing one hell of a season so far. We’re excited to have you all joining the Serpents in September.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Ronan responds diplomatically.
Shifting his focus to me, my father continues, “I understand you all attend Valehurst together, but Gwendolyn, it’s not a good look for you to spend the entire night surrounded by three guys, not to mention three players who have signed with our team.”
“It’s important you socialize, dear,” my mother steps in, as though smoothing out my father’s implication.
“Take this opportunity to network. Some of our donors are here. I’d happily introduce you.
” Reaching out, she squeezes my arm, and when I look into her eyes, they sparkle with excitement.
I immediately dread whatever is going to come out of her mouth next.
“Gregory Cornerstone is here. His family is a huge supporter of the Serpents, plus he’s smart, handsome, and single. ”
I feel all three men bristle around me.
“Good for him,” I deadpan in the face of my mother’s exasperation. “But I am not.”
“Not what, dear?” My mother blinks at me, oblivious.
“Single.”
She laughs like I’m joking. “Don’t be silly, Gwendolyn. Of course you are.”
I’m glad she finds it so preposterous that I’d be able to find a guy on my own…one who actually wants to be with me.
“Actually, she’s not.” The undercurrent behind Lucian’s words has me stilling as my parents snap upright.
“What are you implying, son?” my father demands with his own threat of warning.
“Not implying anything.” Lucian shrugs casually, and I swear, I’m going to murder him if he causes a scene. “I’m bluntly telling you, since you don’t seem to believe her yourselves, that your daughter. Is. Not. Single.”
My parents’ wide eyes bounce back and forth between Lucian and me.
“Gwendolyn,” my mother hisses in outrage. “Tell me he is joking.”
I simply stand there, staring into my parents’ expectant faces.