Page 1 of Bound by Them (Rose and Dagger #1)

Danica

S ometimes, a girl just wants to go out in her hottest dress and be surrounded by a group of adoring, attractive guys.

This party, thrown by my brother Dmitri and my cousin Patrick, is the perfect opportunity.

They just bought this building and it looks like they invited the entire neighborhood to celebrate.

Most of the people here are complete strangers.

Perfect. If the guys are strangers, I haven’t manufactured reasons to hate them yet.

I toss back the last of my drink—a sugary concoction pulled from a tub of mystery liquid.

It’s like we’re a bunch of college students or something.

I graduated from SEU two years ago, thank you very much, and my days of jungle juice should be far behind me.

But here we are. I’ll drink with everyone else—I don’t want Patrick to think I hate his party, and I’ll take whatever buzz I can get.

We’re in a converted pizzeria, with some of the old furniture left behind.

Patrick and his buddies must have shoved the tables off to the side so there’s room for dancing and mingling.

Red-hued lamps hang from the ceiling, sending out soft light.

The music blares. Too loud, but once I’ve had a second drink, I won’t notice anymore.

The joyful mood is infectious. My shimmery white dress fits me beautifully. My heels are sexy. I feel hot and happy, like this night could go in any direction.

“Can I get you another drink?” a guy to my right asks. Or rather, he shouts. The music is too loud for subtlety.

“Sure, thanks…” I’ve already forgotten his name. I’ve forgotten most of their names.

Two more guys move into the spot he vacated. Light brown hair on the muscular but lean one, dark brown on the one who looks like he could be a bouncer or a football player.

“I’ve been watching you,” the guy with lighter brown hair says.

I give him a once-over. Charming smile, mischievous green eyes, light stubble. Expensive-as-fuck suit that fits him extremely well. Super hot. But I don’t need his kind of trouble in my life.

As if he catches onto my immediate dismissal, he holds out a hand. “Hey, let’s be friends. I’m Edmund.”

“Dani.” I have to suck in a breath at the feeling of his fingers surrounding mine. I might not need his kind of trouble, but the chemistry from that one touch says the trouble would be worthwhile.

“Short for Danielle?”

“Nope.” I don’t elaborate. “Who’s your friend?”

“This is Troy.”

“Hey.” I shake Troy’s hand, too. More chemistry. Maybe I’m just horny.

Troy says hey in a voice that sounds deeper than the bass thudding through the floor. His dark brown eyes are fathomless.

The song switches to another loud beat. The guy who offered me a drink never returns, but I don’t care.

Everyone shout-talks over each other, guys asking me questions about my job, my hobbies.

Heated glances, accidental touches. Nothing inappropriate, just lots of admiration.

It’s doing wonders for my self-esteem, not gonna lie.

Edmund leans in. “You like the attention, don’t you?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“You like people watching you. Maybe you’re an exhibitionist.”

I shoot him a hard glance. “Careful, Edmund. You’re getting too personal.”

“Am I?” His green eyes stare back, mesmerizing.

Shaking my head, I take a step away. What is he, some kind of fuckboy vampire hypnotist?

My best friend, Leah, shows up in a dress as stunning as mine—a deep copper that goes well with her hair and fits her perfectly. We talk as much as we can over the loud music. I introduce her to Edmund and his quiet friend, Troy, before Leah drags me off to dance.

We move our bodies to the music, energized and lost at the same time.

Our arms and hips and legs flow with the beat that pumps in our blood.

From time to time, I catch Edmund and Troy watching me from the side of the room.

Edmund looks like he wants to charm his way into my pants.

Troy looks like he’ll march over and claim what’s his.

Their gazes are hot, electric.

I could go to them, pick one, and have my way with him.

That knowledge, soul-deep, is heady. I’m drunk on the certainty that I could choose one.

This is the best night ever.

Until it isn’t.

* * *

Edmund

The Aseyev family’s biggest flaw, according to my father, is that they rule with emotion, not with logic. I’m seeing that flaw play out in real-time tonight. Patrick Aseyev, the biggest douche on the planet, fucking up his entire enterprise. His tenuous foothold in the Layton territory?

Gone. Because he had to go after his cousin’s girl.

I don’t know the details. But I know Princess Danica is upset. For some reason, that upsets me .

No. Her feelings mean nothing. I’m angry at Patrick. I’m angry on behalf of Dmitri’s girl, Leah.

You’re feeling too much. You always feel too goddamn much .

So instead of engaging, I look at the entire shitshow as funny. It’s a spectacle of the Aseyevs’ own making. Danica punching her cousin? That was funny as hell. Dmitri glaring daggers at me? Even funnier.

Danica raises her voice, defending her friend. In her white dress and her white-blond hair, she’s a beacon in the dark street. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Aseyev princess sprouted wings and ascended to heaven via the force of her righteous anger. She’d spew lightning bolts the entire way.

Troy steps forward, ready to defend Danica against her grandfather’s cruelty. I tap his shoulder, rein him in.

He turns to me with a scowl on his face. “They’re wrong. She’s right.”

“It’s her fight, not ours.” I melt back into the shadows. Troy, as always, comes with me.

We watch the drama unfold. Accusations are hurled. Danica and Dmitri tell off the family patriarch, Sergey Aseyev. I evaluate him with interest, because he’s my family’s longtime rival.

I mutter, “My grandfather and father would both love to know about tonight.”

Troy’s shoulders straighten and he tenses.

He doesn’t relax until I add, “We aren’t going to say a fucking word.”

When Danica rushes past the alley and gets into a car, I point toward mine. “Let’s go.”

“Should she be driving?” He makes a drinking motion with his hand.

“I never saw her drinking. I think she’s fine.”

Troy nods. We manage to evade the rest of the Aseyevs’ attention. We get in the back seat of my car and I tell my driver, Jon, to follow Danica’s red sedan.

Jon’s good enough to evade Danica’s notice. When we reach a quiet part of Old Thirty-Three, she parks in front of a small house. She gets out of her car, her movements jerky and upset.

We pull up across the street. Jon leaves the engine idling. I don’t think Danica has noticed us.

I climb out of my car and stand next to it. “Dani.”

Her head swivels to me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You’re upset. I wanted to check on you.”

“Yeah, thanks. Creepy-ass motherfucker.” She shimmies her shoulders like she’s trying to shake off cobwebs. “Now fuck off.”

I laugh. “Is that any way to talk to your knight in shining armor?”

Her scowl could scare away a shark. “More like wankstain in shining armor.”

She looks like an angel, but she has the mouth of one of our dockworkers.

“Dani.” I hold out my hands. “Come on. It’s still early. Why don’t we go out?”

“I’m tired.” She looks uncertainly toward her house, at the lighted windows.

“You have roommates?” I ask.

Her nose scrunches as she faces me. “In a suit like yours, I’m assuming you don’t.”

Her assumption is mostly right.

I nod toward her house. “If you go in there, upset like you are, I bet your roommates will have questions. They’ll want to talk about it. Is that what you want?”

Vulnerability shines in her eyes. She takes the biggest strides possible in those flimsy heels she’s wearing. Each step brings her closer to me. “Get me out of here.”

I hold open my car door.