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I’m surprised I remember all of that, but Adonis has a knack for making info dumping enthralling, exactly what he did last night in between songs in the piano room.

I learned more about The Lost Rose in an hour talking to him than I had my whole life watching the men in my life vie for a spot within their ranks.

According to him, The Society has its own governing body, operating between andbeneaththe laws civilians abide by. Anything and anyone can disappear if The Society wants them to.

Adonis was born into it while my father did everything in his power to earn his way back into good standing with The Crimson Accord. Everything except stop being a con artist. My brother followed in his footsteps. And I…well, here I am on the arm of a man who put a jackknife in the worst laid plans.

His hold is secure around my waist as he talks to someone about planes and I let my eyes roam over the room, studying the ostentatious decor.

A few minutes later, the MC for the night makes a somber announcement about a member’s untimely passing the week prior. Then she goes on to highlight that the man designated a ten-million-dollar donation to be split between five different battered women’s shelters around the state.

Jimmy Garrison.

The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I get caught up admiring the dresses of the other attendees instead of trying to make the connection.

I look up in time to see a Black woman who looks around Adonis’ age approaching us with an older man byher side. Both are dressed elegantly in all black, their gazes focused on the man beside me.

They’re only a few steps away from us when I seeAdonisin the man. He’s like a reflection of him twenty years into the future and my breath saws out of me in a gasp.

Sensing them, Adonis’ grip on my waist strengthens and he pulls me until not even air can slip between our bodies.

“Hello.” The woman speaks first, her frosty eyes and honeyed voice at odds with each other. “Don, we didn’t know you’d be bringing your…houseguest.”

She stares me up and down, swallowing around the last word as if it’s wedged in her throat. Meanwhile, the man beside her only has eyes for Adonis.

“Delilah, these are my parents: Adriana and Antoine. Mom, dad, this is?—”

Adriana cuts him off. “We know exactly who she is, I just can’t fathom why she’s on your arm at this event instead of where she belongs.”

Where I belong?

“She’s my date, mom. She belongs on my arm until I say different.”

Mom? Shit. My brain refuses to comprehend, so I stand there staring at her, head cocked in amazement.

“That’s cute, Adonis, but think about the message you’re sending.”

For the first time tonight, Adonis lets go of me, stepping between me and his mother.

“Now is not the time, mom.”

“Watch how you address my wife, son.” The man’s voice is just as gravelly as I expected.

Adonis doesn’t back down. I peek around his shoulderas he stares his mother down until she gives him a devious smirk.

“Come on, Antoine. I see Margaret across the room. I want to ask her about some things she put on thewedding registry.”

I swear there’s a meaningful inflection on her last two words, but she’s gone with her husband by the time I register it.

“Your parents are nice,” I mutter, sarcasm underscoring my tone. I hadn’t expected a warm welcome. Nothing about Adonis alludes to his parents being anything but as calculating and cold as he is.

Catching me by surprise, Adonis engulfs my hand with his and pulls me to the perimeter of the grand ballroom. One tequila on the rocks turns into two when Silas appears with a knowing grin.

“Hi, Delilah.”

“Hey, Silas.” A genuine smile breaks across my face. As much as I tried to box him into the “ain’t shit” category, it’s impossible not to smile around Silas. And his presence relaxes Adonis enough to let go of my hand.

Shaking out my fingers, I study his profile. Every hard line and severe angle is painted in displeasure and the odd desire to fix it plagues me before I tamp it down.