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Easton shook his head, laughing. “And that was before the cooking challenge.”
Briggs’s eyebrows climbed. “Oh, yeah. Then Captain Closure started feeding her with his fingers.”
Briggs looked toward Easton. “I’m beginning to think his closure plan has a very specific methodology.”
“My methodology is mind your fucking business.”
“Hard to do when your business keeps happening in common areas.”
I pointed my glass at him. “You balls were practically inside Lyric’s purse during half the scavenger hunt. Focus on your own problems.”
His smile faltered for half a second before recovering. “Deflection. Interesting.”
“Survival.”
Easton tapped two fingers against the bar. “Are you three finished discussing Ryan’s dick, or are we allowed to ask the actual question?”
“Thank you.”
Briggs lifted his glass. “I wasn’t finished, but I respect leadership.”
“You’ve never respected leadership in your life.”
“That’s fair.”
Easton’s expression lost the humor. “What happens when Lance gets into the room?”
The ease inside my shoulders tightened without changing my position.
There was the real issue. Not me fucking Charm in as many places as possible in the castle. Not the guys chirping at me. Lance the fuck, was about to be here if not already and talk about the test of all tests. My patience for his bullshit… and how Charm would react to it.
I took another drink and looked toward the open terrace, where enough relatives had gathered to make finding one rich asshole among them temporarily impossible.
“What always happens,” I said. “He looks at me like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. I continue not giving a fuck.”
Briggs snorted. “You give several fucks.”
“I give exactly one fuck, and it isn’t about whether Lance Harlen likes me.”
Rider studied me. “Charm.”
“Yeah.”
No reason to pretend otherwise.
I rolled the cold glass between my palms and glanced toward the ballroom entrance again. “Lance spent years convincing her everything about me was something she should be embarrassed to want. Brown kid. Foster kid. Barrio kid. Tattoos. Fighting. The way I speak. The way I dress. Pick a fucking category. Lance found a reason I was wrong inside every one.”
Easton’s jaw flexed.
“Tonight he gets all of it,” I continued. “I’m not putting on loafers and pretending money changed where I came from. I’m not moving my hand because he walks into the room. If I want Charm against me, she’ll be against me. If I want to kiss her, I’m going to kiss her. If he hates watching his daughter want everything he told her she shouldn’t, he can eat his fucking words with a side of barbecue.”
Briggs’s mouth slowly curved. “That is spectacularly petty.”
“It’s not petty if I enjoy everything I’m doing.”
“That is how petty works.”
“I don’t care how it works.”
