Page 56

MARISELA

G ive them all something shiny to look at and they’ll forget to look anywhere else.

It was a lesson I’d taught myself over the last few weeks and the best weapon I had at my disposal when I didn’t have a pocketknife hidden on me.

And right now, the only thing shinier than my sparkling personality was the diamond pendant sliding along my collarbone and catching the light as I tipped my head back and laughed.

Forced, because nothing these fuckers said was funny.

I raised my arm, mindful of the chilled champagne sloshing around the flute without spilling over, as I offered our guests a polite cheers.

Dr. So-and-so and his wife, Such-and-such.

Politicians and their backers. I didn’t know most of their names.

And it didn’t matter, because tonight I made sure they knew me. I made sure they took notice of me.

They weren’t the only ones, though. His glare was tracking my every movement, each step I took across the room and every smile that was aimed at someone who wasn’t him.

Like if he stared long enough, the invisible leash he had wrapped around my neck would tug me in his direction.

Like he could strangle me with that stare.

Not all that long ago he probably could too. But not now. Not when I had a hand in the game.

I saw him, felt him, without ever having to look at him as he tipped the whiskey glass towards his lips and downed the contents.

I could also smell him or more I could smell the alcohol wafting off his breath as he stalked towards me.

His steps just as determined as the annoyance curling his lips into a scowl.

Like I said, I was used to being dissected from afar.

Being leered at until my skin crawled. What I wasn’t used to was it coming from my fiancé instead of his brother.

The same fiancé who claimed he didn’t care who I fucked, when what he really meant was he cared a whole lot about who wanted to fuck me.

He also cared about what it looked like.

Especially to everyone else. Which meant I needed to look like the adoring bride at all times.

Tate tugged me to his side, one arm wrapped around my back as he dropped his mouth to that spot just above my ear, his voice low and harsh.

His grip on my waist possessive and harsher .

“What do you think you’re doing?” His eyes flicked from the group of investors I’d been chatting up, back to me and the way my chest was nearly popping out of my neckline .

This wasn’t jealousy. This was a kid not wanting to play with a toy anymore but not wanting anyone else to play with it either.

“Getting you another drink now that I see your glass is empty, my love.” I grinned past my disgust, slowly spinning into his hold rather than pulling away from it, as I placed a gentle palm on Tate’s chest.

I could feel his pulse racing, the vein in his forehead throbbing and the bulge in his pants doing much the same.

Tate had a temper, enjoyed drinking almost as much as he loved golfing—he was good at neither, mind you—but he was also pliable. Like a stray dog who was one deep ear scratch from showing you his belly. As long as you weren’t afraid to risk a hand trying.

At this point, the fucker could gnaw my whole damn arm off, and I wouldn’t bat a lash.

I pried the tumbler from his fingertips, pushing up on the tiptoes of my flats because Tate’s dick size somehow grew the more I didn’t, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

It didn’t take his gaze more than a few seconds to wander from my ass to the pair of tits in front of him.

A redhead this time. With a forehead so tight it didn’t move.

She was someone’s wife and someone else’s mistress.

I didn’t care to figure out who was who.

Just paid enough attention to the way Tate eyed her.

Another thing about my soon-to-be husband was the fact he didn’t have a type.

If it had holes, he’d fuck it. What he did have was a competitive streak.

The need to have whatever it was someone else wanted.

A need that was easy to manipulate once you understood it.

And I understood it better than anyone else.

It was the one benefit of growing up surrounded by monsters.

While most people tried to avoid them, I learned how to blend in and live amongst them.

And I wasn’t just living. I was thriving.

Navigating this engagement party like I was born to do it.

So that everyone was eating out of the palm of my hand.

Almost everyone.

I chanced a glance behind me. Over to where Adrian had positioned himself on the other side of the room.

Dressed head to toe in black. A black dinner jacket, black slacks, and a matching black button-down shirt.

Open at the collar to reveal skin a shade darker than everyone around us.

A guest in a space meant to be his home. Introduced as employee and never son.

I could only imagine what that was like. Then again, I knew exactly… Maybe I’d never been my father’s employee but I had never been his daughter either.

My shadow man hadn’t looked my way all night. And not because he wasn’t watching me. But because he was better at hiding it than I was. Better than Tate too. Which left me to wonder what my darling fiancé thought he knew. I was certain it was nowhere near as off-putting as the truth.

By the time I made it back over to where Tate had been standing, he was gone. And so was the redhead. While the remaining guests all appeared too drunk or too self-absorbed to notice .

I sculled back the glass of whiskey in my hand, allowing the liquid to warm me from inside out before something else warmed my waist. A palm pressed almost too low to be decent and a mouth hovering over the nape of my neck.

“Only an idiot would leave his woman alone in a room full of fucking predators.”