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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CONOR

Leaning back in one of the oversized chairs in the lounge, the coolness of the leather seeps through my shirt as I take a long sip of whiskey. Lowering my glass from my lips, I sneak a glance at my watch. 5:23 p.m.

“Con?” Tristan calls from behind the bar. “Can you meet with the three new members tonight? Show them around the club?”

“No,” Layla answers for me as she reaches for my empty glass, a bratty smile spreading across her face. “Pretty sure the big guy has other plans tonight.”

Befuddled, I stare back at her. I haven’t said shit about tonight’s plans to anyone.

“What?” Layla shrugs. “You’ve checked your watch at least ten times in the last thirty minutes. You clearly have somewhere to be.”

Grabbing her wrist, I playfully yank her into my lap. She squeals with laughter as I wrap my hand around her waist and pull her tightly into me. “You’re such a fucking brat,” I whisper against her ear. “And you know exactly what you just did.”

Pulling away from my tight hold, she stares at me with a sheepish, smug grin. “Well… you could’ve lied,” she quietly retorts, slipping out of my grasp before I can yank her into my lap again.

Fuck, do I ever love her…

“Hey!” Tristan jokingly barks. “Stop looking at my wife like that.”

Scoffing at him, I shrug my shoulders. “Like what?”

“Like you’d like to make her yours.” It might be because I’ve fucked her, but I’m closer to Layla than I am with my other sisters-in-law. While she is nearly perfect, and I joke plenty about my desire to fuck all the gorgeous women my brothers have married into our family, that’s a boundary I could never actually cross. At least not without being invited first.

“You better be careful,” Layla teases, snuggling into Tristan. “It’d be a shame to miss your hot date because you’re getting the snot beat out of you over me.”

“You know you’re worth it, sweetheart.” I wink at her, enjoying the scowl it draws from Tristan.

“Hot date?” Finn chimes. “Is that why you trimmed your beard and smell like you sampled the cologne counter at Macy’s?”

“Don’t be a twat.” Declan swats the backside of his head before joining Tristan behind the bar. Turning his attention back to me, Declan proclaims in a fatherly tone, “You look good.”

“He better,” Finn mutters.

My brows furrowing, I gruff, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Victoria Conrad… I love you, brother, but she is well out of your league. Well out of all our leagues.” He takes a seat at the bar, and the room falls silent for a second, the shift in energy palpable. It feels like the teasing suddenly took a backseat to the knowledge Finn—of all people—was about to impart. “Do the lot of you know nothing?” He looks at the inquisitive faces staring back at him.

“Enlighten us,” I huff.

“She’s not like us,” he shares . “She’s high society. Old money. Like the Vanderbilts, the Rockefellers, and the Conrads. She sits on the boards of several philanthropies, spending the family money for good. She has done so since graduating from Harvard six years ago. Now, her girlfriend… that’s a different story.”

We all stare at him with varying degrees of confusion written across our faces. “How the fuck do you know so much about the two of them?” Declan breaks the silence and asks the question running through all our thoughts.

“How do you not?” Finn exclaims excitedly. “It was a huge fucking scandal when Miss High Society started publicly dating not only a woman, but a twenty-year-old high-school dropout from a blue-collar, single-parent home. It was all over the news.”

“The news?” Declan air quotes with a smirk. “You're one of those tabloid readers, aren't you?”

“No!” Finn crinkles his face as he feigns disgust at the accusation. “I just read the headlines at the grocery store.”

Tristan scoffs, “When the fuck do you go to the grocery store?”

“Finn, mo ghrá , the news stand would've at least been a little believable.” Catlin squeezes his arm and gives it a condescending pat, acknowledging the truth behind Finn's dirty little secret.

“Fine,” Finn huffs. “But where else am I supposed to read about women abducted by aliens and forced to help repopulate their dying race?”

Layla deadpans, “Amazon.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, shrugging off the information he just provided. “It’s not like we’re dating. The three of us had fun together, and we’re simply going to have more fun together.” Hopefully, a lot more .

“Sure.” Declan nods condescendingly. “That’s what they all say.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” I huff. My eyes darting back to Finn, I snip, “Wait! How the fuck did you know I was seeing them tonight? None of you were here when I met Victoria the other day.”

Finn looks around the room, eyeing the security cameras placed throughout the lounge. “Actually… Cat and I were in the security office, so I could give her a thorough debriefing”—Finn winks at me—“on the new security system.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Declan exclaims. “Can the two of you fuck at home? Or at least in one of the many rooms we have specifically for that purpose.”

“We could, but it’s not nearly as fun.”

“Finn!” Catlin shushes him as her cheeks pinken. She has grown so much since she joined our family, but more often than not, we still embarrass the shit out of her with our openness about sex. She leans forward with a sweet smile. “So, you’re just going to see the two of them and go along with whatever they want?” Her voice is soft but pointed, making it clear she’s asking out of genuine curiosity, not judgment.

“Pretty sure you’ve seen me down the hallway enough times to know I’m into group activities,” I respond, watching her cheeks burn red at the realization I know she’s watched me. “And if two gorgeous women want to invite me into their bed, I think it would be rude of me to say no.”

“Sorry you asked?” Declan asks her.

“A little,” she answers. “But intrigued.”

“Ask all the questions you want, piscin .” Finn pulls Cat between his legs. Leaning his chin onto her shoulder from behind and wrapping his arms around her, he possessively pulls her into him. “But know, I will never fucking share you.” He lowers his voice to just above a whisper. “Your pussy will only ever belong to me.”

“I do have to get going”—I stand from my chair—“but if you’re going to prove that, I can wait a little while longer.”

“Conor!” Catlin’s admonishment is shrill.

“What?” I shrug. “I’ve heard you come plenty. Can’t say I haven’t fantasized about seeing it?”

Rounding the bar, Declan plants his hands on my shoulders. “Unless you’re looking to get the piss beaten out of you by both Tris and Finn, you might want to go.”