Page 31

CHAPTER 31

Billie

I invited Matthew to the party, and he accepted. Not that I thought he would decline, but I expected some kind of hesitation at the very least. He offered to pick me up and drive us there, and I agreed. I would usually call for a driver or just catch a cab, but since this is my first time bringing a date to a family event, I figured we better arrive together.

I run my hands down my red leather dress. It’s mid-length, so it stops just above my knees and has a small slit up the side. It fits me beautifully. I actually haven’t worn it yet, so I was excited to have an event to wear it to.

I pull my hair back in a nice tight bun and then put on some big earrings while I wait for Matthew to arrive. I know Ford will be at the party and that I’ll have to deal with him either ignoring me or eyeing me all night. Which one it will be, I’m not sure, but I’ve promised myself I’ll try my best to only have eyes for Matthew.

Just as I slip my heels on, a knock comes on my apartment door. When I answer it, I find Matthew standing there holding a bouquet of lily’s. I take them from his outstretched hand, and he leans in to kiss my cheek. I can’t say I’ve had a man buy me flowers before. It’s a nice gesture. “You didn’t have to bring me flowers,” I say as I invite him inside.

“I did. Every woman deserves flowers.”

I put them in some water, rearrange them quickly, then grab my bag.

“Are you nervous?” I ask.

“No, should I be?”

I want to laugh at his confidence because most sane men would be nervous about entering this party, knowing who will be in attendance. I’m not sure how much he knows about my family, but I know he knows exactly who they are.

“No, but you’re the first date I’m bringing to meet them.”

He smiles and places a hand over his heart. “I’m honored. That’s a big step.”

Matthew is easy to get along with. He’s kind and thoughtful. But I still have that nagging feeling that something is missing.

He guides me to his car and opens the passenger door for me. He ticks all the boxes: never been married, has no children, isn’t afraid of my family. Actually, that last one probably deserves a question mark.

He may have worked with my uncle before, but my uncle has retired. And now the new generation is in charge, and they’ll drop him the moment he no longer holds any value.

We talk about his week in the office and a smear campaign he’s currently working on. Then he changes the conversation.

“So, I won’t run into any old boyfriends at this party, right?”

I laugh. I’ve never been in a serious relationship. And unless you count Ford, which I’m sure Ford wouldn’t even count himself, I haven’t been in anything close to a relationship.

“No, you’re safe from that situation,” I tell him, though I can’t guarantee Ford or the other men will be friendly. One date was a fluke; a second date might be what breaks him.

We continue talking casually, and he asks me if it’s okay for him to text me a little more often. I’m surprised by the question because he didn’t text me at all this week, and I kind of felt unsure about what was happening between us. I now understand he has boundaries, and I’m not quite sure if I like them. I don’t want to have to tell a man to text me. I want him to just think of me and do it. Is that really too much to ask? I know that’s something Ford wouldn’t have done. Another pang of frustration echoes through me because my mind, yet again, so naturally turns to Ford.

When we arrive at the rooftop bar, the valet opens my door, but Matthew is waiting for me. I slide my hand into his and, trying not to laugh, ask, “Are you ready?”

He gives my hand a squeeze as he answers, “Yes.”

And I think this man is out of his mind. Had someone told me a year ago I’d be able to hold a man’s hand in front of my brother, I would’ve called them insane. It’s what I’ve always wanted, though, so I try not to let my thoughts stray to anything but embracing this experience for what it is.

He leads me to the elevator. Pressing the button for the rooftop bar, we ascend quickly. The moment the doors open and we step out, we’re greeted with the sight of leather and diamond-accented decor, which I find rather fitting for my family.

I spot my parents straight away and take a deep breath as I guide Matthew over to introduce him. My father offers a polite enough smile and his hand, and I remember then that they’ve worked together before. I’m not the least bit surprised. What does catch me off guard is my mother, who hasn’t met Matthew before and is studying him intently. Her usual welcoming nature is nowhere to be found. Her gaze dips to our intertwined hands, and I swear, for the first time ever, my mother looks at me disapprovingly. It’s only for a second, and I wonder if I read her wrong. Her gaze then snaps up to meet Matthew’s.

“Eli mentioned you were dating my daughter. I hope you’re treating her like the princess she is,” my father says with a smile, but his eyes hint at something else. It’s not a joking matter at all. It’s an obvious threat, and Matthew gives my hand a gentle squeeze as if to reassure me .

“Yes, of course,” Matthew replies. He turns to my mother then and offers his hand. “Lovely to meet you. I can see where Billie gets her beauty from.” She doesn’t seem flattered, though she offers a polite enough smile.

I know my mother too well. She’s acting cold toward Matthew, and a sickening feeling swirls in my stomach. Do they hate him? Did I choose wrong? My mother is one of the sweetest people in this room, and for her to act this way makes me second-guess everything.

A clipped “Thank you” is the only response she gives him.

I lean against Matthew. “Can you go grab us a drink? I just want to speak with my mother for a moment.”

“Yes, of course. Wine?”

“She hates wine,” my mother is quick to say. I’ve never seen this side of her.

He looks confused and like he’s about to mention the bottle he bought at the restaurant, but I offer a smile. I mean, I would’ve told him eventually, right?

“Vodka soda, please,” I tell him.

Once he’s gone, I turn on my mother. She was the last person I was expecting this from.

“Why are you being rude?” I demand. My mother and I have hardly ever fought, even when I was a teenager.

“You don’t like him,” she states.

My jaw drops. “I obviously do, or he wouldn’t be here with me.” I point at her. “So be nice. I bet you weren’t like this to Posie when Dutton introduced her, so don’t have double standards.”

Her lips press into a thin line. It makes her uncomfortable when we have any type of disagreement. My mother has always been my everything. I’d even consider her as one of my best friends. She taught me everything I know about being a woman, so it’s startling to see this side of her. She doesn’t often dislike someone.

“We like him if you do,” my father interjects, trying to smooth things over, but my mother looks hurt, not offering to even consider changing her opinion.

Okay. I don’t even want to dive into that right now.

I turn and head to the bar to join Matthew. If my own mother is giving him the cold shoulder, I’m too terrified to leave him alone, where the rest of the family will tear him apart like a pack of animals.

But that’s when I notice he’s talking with Ivy. At least I know he’s okay with her.

“Billie.” My aunt Rya calls out to me.

“Aunt Rya.” I smile and hug her. “Happy Birthday.”

“I was just telling a friend of mine how good at piano you are.” She glances at the piano. “Are you willing to play for us?”

“Oh.” A blush streaks across my cheeks. “Sure.”

My agreement was immediate, but I’m actually nervous. It’s been years since I played, though it was something I always loved. I stopped when I went to college. It just didn’t seem like a practical career path. I’m sure I’ll be rusty, but a small part of me is excited to play again.

I glance back over to Matthew, who seems to be thoroughly entertained by something Ivy said.

I scan the room anxiously. I get a small boost of confidence when I notice Hope sitting beside the piano, a drink in her hand, looking like she’s suffocating with the number of people here.

I chuckle, and an obvious wave of relief washes through her when she sees me approaching.

“You look like you’re being tortured,” I tease as I slide onto the piano stool.

“More than you can imagine. You going to play?” she asks, leaning in. She always used to listen to me play, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel so daunting.

“I’m about to humiliate myself by how rusty I am, but sure, why not.” I shrug.

She places her drink on top of the piano.

“At least this way, you can pretend you’re drunk.” She chuckles. “Oh, this must be the loner area, then,” she says as someone comes up behind me. I don’t even have to look to know who it is. I can sense his presence before his scent drifts toward me.

“Is this seat taken?” Ford asks, already sitting down beside me. “It’s been a while since you’ve played.”

I roll my shoulders. “Well, some things don’t change,” I say pointedly as I place my fingers on the keyboard. I press down on one of the keys, and it pulls a string in me. Then I play a second note. My fingers slowly but surely find a rhythm, like a story I’ve read many times in the past, rewriting itself. The melody rings through the room, and it brings me a sense of serenity.

I glance at Hope, who has a small smile on her lips. Nothing seems complicated at the moment, and it’s nice. It’s funny how old things find ways to come back.

Ford’s hand, the one with the sun tattooed on it, reaches toward the keyboard. I shoot him a glare.

“Care to share?” he asks.

“You don’t know how to play the piano,” I scoff.

He actually has the audacity to smile smugly as he forces me to move as he invades my space. “Don’t be so sure you know everything about me, Chaos.” His finger presses down on a key, and I narrow my gaze at him in silent challenge. “Try to keep up,” he says as he begins to play a classical piece.

I’m shocked, absolutely floored. My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I watch this beast of a man play something so beautiful. And it’s a song I know well. It’s the one I performed solo at my high school graduation ceremony. But I’ve never played it with someone else.

I follow his lead, an easy harmony flowing between us. A few people have surrounded us now, and I can tell Ford is uncomfortable with the attention. He’s used to being in the shadows, under the radar, where no one notices him. Yet he’s willing to put himself in the spotlight now. I have no idea why that is, but my heart races excitedly at how perfect this moment is.

It feels so out of this world, and I embrace all of it, my shoulders sagging as I let the tension of the last few weeks ripple away… and I simply be. In this space. In this now. Remembering why I loved piano so much in the first place.

I’d forgotten the things that brought me joy as I focused on what everyone did or didn’t want of me.

No one ever put pressure on me except for me.

The song comes to a close, and I look at Ford, who’s still staring at the piano as if numbing out the small crowd we’ve gathered.

“How?” I ask quietly as we finish a few slow and careful notes as if the second the song truly ends, we’ll be taken away from this serene moment. It’s the first time in a long time I haven’t looked at Ford in anger or despised him for everything that’s happened in the past.

His voice is so quiet, I know only I can hear him. “Addictive personality, remember? I have many useless skills I learned in order to distract me.”

My eyebrows furrow again. So he skips from one thing to another to keep him entertained? I don’t even know how to interpret that. Seeing this kind of softness in Ford, a man who seeks punishments and seclusion, shakes my hatred for him. Not that I ever really hated him. But it reminds me how complicated this man is, and I soften to the thoughts of when he opens up to me little by little. I don’t expect him to have feelings that mirror mine, but simply being here right now, shoulder to shoulder? It’s… nice.

It’s peaceful.

It’s right.

A few people clap, and we’re suddenly taken from our peace, the world around us coming back into play. A world that doesn’t favor me and Ford together.

One question plays on my mind, and I ask it. “I played for so many years. Why didn’t you ever join me?”

“Because I enjoyed watching you,” he says matter-of-factly.

I try not to let it slip past my defenses, but it’s hard when it comes to this man. The bittersweetness of the lingering feeling that we’re not entirely done. The reality that is we’re not good for one another. And not just because of Ford’s fixation and addiction, but because of my own as well.

“Wow. I didn’t know you could play,” Matthew says from over my shoulder. I turn my back to Ford, my heart pounding as if I’ve done something wrong. I see he’s holding what I assume to be a vodka and soda.

Ivy joins Hope, and they watch us carefully. I feel like I have nowhere to run with the man I desire at my back, and the one I know I should want in front of me.

“You didn’t like the wine I ordered on our date, did you?” Matthew asks.

“Of course, she didn’t,” Ford grumbles.

Matthew seems to have not heard him.

“I tried to like it.” I blush, trying to block out Ford’s voice.

What I said isn’t a lie. I did try to like it. But wine just isn’t for me.

“Okay, noted. No wine for you.” He winks. “Ford, I never took you as the piano-playing type. Nice, dude.” He turns and says, “Good to see you, Hawke.”

I shift, spotting Hawke standing behind his brother, arms folded over his chest. Tension ripples through the room, and I have no fucking idea what is happening.

But from the way Hawke is looking at me, he clearly suspects something or is particularly sensitive to his brother lately. The two have always seemed weirdly in tune with one another. I guess it’s a twin thing.

“So, they actually let you date, little tornado?” Hawke asks, sounding anything but friendly, which is so unlike him. He has no reason not to like Matthew… unless Ford told him something. I flick my gaze to Ford to find him standing up from the bench.

“Well, considering I’m a grown woman, yes,” I reply, getting to my feet.

Ford clicks his tongue, and my jaw grinds at his dismissal, the bubble we were in bursting.

Eli and Jewel join the group, and I wish I were anywhere but here right now.

“Wow. I didn’t know you two could play the piano. That’s amazing!” Jewel says.

“We all have our own talents, wouldn’t you say, wife?” Eli gives her a pointed glare, probably referring to her ability with a gun. I didn’t know Jewel was a hitwoman when I first met her, but after I found out, it made so much sense as to why she always kicked our ass when we played shooting games on Eli’s gaming console. Come to think of it, that’s something we haven’t done in some time now.

“Matthew,” Eli says, holding out his hand. “I’m actually surprised you got the approval for a second date.”

I narrow my eyes at him. Fuck this family and them giving me so much shit for having an overprotective dickhead for a brother. It’s not like I asked for that.

The men in my family are assholes.

“So it would seem,” Matthew interjects.

Jewel tries to save me from the humiliation and overdose of testosterone by changing the subject. “Oh, Ivy told me you got a tattoo. Did it hurt?” Every pair of eyes flicks from Jewel to me.

“Her heart one?” Matthew says, and Ford’s posture noticeably stiffens.

“You got a tattoo, little tornado? Dang, I knew you were a badass,” Hawke jokes.

“Do your parents know?” Eli asks, and I see the moment Jewel understands it was meant to be a secret.

“Let’s go get a drink, Eli,” she says, then leans forward and touches my arm as she whispers, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t say anything to your brother.” I nod as she straightens and pulls Eli away.

Hawke continues to stare at me with approval, and Ford basically glares at Matthew.

“You know about her tattoo?” Ford asks Matthew, and I’m certain he’s about to kill him.

Matthew looks down at me and smiles, unaware of the train wreck that’s most likely about to happen.

“I do,” he replies, and I can feel the lethal aura come off Ford in waves.

He is beyond pissed.

I step in front of Matthew as if shielding him from Ford, who at any point might snap.

“Ford does tattoos. You should have had him do it.” Hawke smacks him on the back, and it’s then Ford relaxes his hands, which were bunched up into fists.

“That’s cool. Do you do it professionally?” Matthew asks him, having no idea how mad Ford is right now. Hawke seems to notice, though and smacks him on the back again.

I glance down at my drink and make the executive decision to just down the entire fucking thing. Because the situation is so fucking awkward. And to make it even worse, Anya and River come over and flank their sons, staring at us. This usually wouldn’t be a problem, but Anya hates new people. I’m pretty sure she even hated me when I was a child. Fuck, she probably still hates me. But I think that’s just her personality. She doesn’t even seem to soften much around the twins, but we all know that if anyone hurt her children, she would be the first one to slit their throats.

“And who are you?” Anya asks Matthew, and I wonder how attuned she is to her son’s emotions. Did they walk over here because they could sense the killer intent rolling off Ford?

“Mother, would you like a drink?” Hawke asks as if trying to find any excuse to lead her away. It’s well known that Anya doesn’t drink alcohol. Anya ignores Hawke, giving Ford a quick once-over before she pins me with a stare.

“Yes, a drink. Billie will take me to the bar, won’t you?” she says without so much as a smile. Most people don’t say no to Anya Ivanov, and for good reason. She doesn’t even wait for me to answer as she steps away from the group and expects me to follow. I do precisely that because I value my fucking life.

Her long, red nails tap on the bar impatiently as I move to stand beside her. She’s a regal woman who barely looks any older than a woman half her age, and she’s terrifying. She turns to me, a scowl on her face. Her Russian accent comes out thicker than normal when she asks, “What’s going on with you and my son?”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Excuse me?”

She waves her perfectly manicured hand.

“Don’t deny it. I know my sons well enough to tell when they’re acting abnormally… well, more abnormally than usual.” It’s great to know she’s aware that her kids aren’t totally sane. “I know Ford. I watched him practice piano religiously for a year, mastering it like so many other things, but I never understood why until now. The way he was back there is not like him. So, tell me, what is going on with you two?”

My mouth opens and then closes. Is she implying that Ford learned how to play piano because of me? But that would mean he felt something for me years before we ever hooked up. And I certainly didn’t suspect his mother, of all people, to catch on to our addictive lies.

I glance over my shoulder at where they’re all still standing, my eyes widening when I see Ford.

He’s a beautiful savage.

But his mother is fucking terrifying.

He seems to understand my silent plea because he pushes past Hawke and stalks toward us. But the moment he’s standing in front of me, I forget how to speak.