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It sucks that my goddess is connected to him, somehow.
“I love your mask,” the woman compliments, finger drifting down my chest. I catch her wrist in a tight grip.
“Thank you. Not interested.”
She pouts slightly, eyes clouded in confusion. Or drugs. Roman has been known to incapacitate his girls to keep them compliant.
Bruno whispers into mock-Sloane’s ear as the woman leaves me. Grabbing another glass, I stop before him and bow slightly. The brute, with his arm around my goddess, places a hand to my chest, halting me. I’m not a fan.
“Who are you?”
“Ben,” I lie casually. Sure as fuck can’t come in proclaiming to be an O’Brien in enemy territory. “And you?”
He sneers at me. “Freddie. Do you have business with Roman?”
“Now, now, Freddie,” the prick interrupts. “If he’s here, he’s a friend. Ben, is it?”
Turning, I’m finally face to face with the monster. I’ve only seen his grimy visage in grainy photos and listened to war stories from Maeve’s reports. Being this close, my fists clench, and I want to throttle him.
He tried to steal Collins in marriage. He tried to give Sloane away to another man against her will. He tried to kill—then own—Maeve.
I’ve seen what that kind of ownership did to her growing up. Never again.
Relaxing my stance, I clean the rage away. Lock up the anger, turn on the charm. A typical day for me.
Toasting him, I say, “I wanted to thank you for such a fun night. Sampling the goods? Impressive.”
Bruno smiles wide. He’s a peacock beaming with pride. Too easy.
The goddess looks at me, head tilted. She’s reading me in ways neither of her men would. I swallow against the nerves, and pray the mask is enough.
“It’s my gift. Without all of you,” he says, gesturing to the group. People are pairing off with their new toys, and my stomach twists. “This wouldn’t be possible. It seems only right to share for a night. Have you found a companion?”
“I saw you talking to Cherry,” Freddie mutters, arms crossed, irritated. “But you sent her away. Why?”
“Not my type,” I offer. “I like them… darker.” I say this directly to the goddess, and her bottom lip trembles. “But I believe she’s free, if you—”
Freddie pushes me aside, darting away.
My hand slips into my jacket, carefully grabbing the glass vial. Roman tuts after his friend, lowering his glass. Maybe to reprimand him, maybe to laugh, I don’t know. Don’t fucking care. With the right movements, I could dump this—
My goddess bumps me, her elbow jabbing my side. My hand jerks and the vial—dammit!—falls to the ground.
Thank whatever deity loves me, it doesn’t break, and no poison gets on my hands. It rolls, jumping this way and that, before it’s kicked off someone’s toe. It skids across the floor, and I lose it under the couch. I think. I fucking hope.
Turning, I glare at the little minx, but her innocent eyes are on Roman, brushing his shoulder. Her lips are parted, perfectly innocent.
Oh. I see how it is. She intercepted on purpose.
God damn it. I might have to cut this short. She’s going to blow my spot to hell.
Who is she, and who is Roman Bruno Junior to her?
The music swells, and couples dance. Freddie has his claws on Cherry, dragging her to the darkest corner. Something tainted stirs, the need to protect a woman rising with urgency.
“Dance with Valentina,” Roman instructs, interrupting my thoughts. Valentina? Why does that sound familiar?
He places her hand in mine, cruel eyes hard. “Keep your hands where I can see them. She’s an innocent, yes?”
