8

I continued to look away, busying myself by watching everyone else have a good time.

“Did you actually like him? Or did he just wound your pride?”

“Both.”

“Did you love him?”

I didn’t say anything.

“That’s a no.”

“I’ve never had a real relationship because this is always a problem. Once they realize who I really am, who my father really is, they want nothing to do with me. Ryan said it didn’t bother him, so I thought he was different. But I guess he’s not.”

“Because you’re dating pussies. Not real men.”

“Maybe.” I searched the table for a drink, but nothing was there. The burn of the whiskey was still on my tongue and in my throat.

“You can’t run an empire with a pussy by your side.”

“I told you I don’t need a man⁠—”

“Trust me, when it’s the right man, you’ll need him more than anything,” he said. “But boys like Ryan and whoever else came before him…they can’t give you what you need. Forget them. You’re the most beautiful woman in this room, and you’re wounded by some kid who didn’t deserve you in the first place. Buck up.”

“Buck up?” I looked at him again, my eyebrows raised.

“You heard what I said. You think your father would ever let anyone know how much they hurt him?” He shook his head. “He’d brush it off and move on.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. Now, get up, get a drink, and get over it.”

I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, staring at the blush on my cheeks, the dark eye shadow across my eyelids, and the mascara that made my lashes prominent. I’d looked at myself a million times and never considered myself beautiful. I was confident in my appearance, carried myself like someone worthwhile, but beautiful…that was a strong word. Right now, I looked meek, wounded by the bullet holes no one could see.

I didn’t shed a tear because I was far too proud for that, but my face looked puffy all the same. My eyes were empty, like I didn’t want to be there, when I’d been excited about this for the last few days.

I finally left the bathroom and walked down the hallway.

“Sweetheart.” My father appeared before me, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

I forced a smile on to my lips. “Hey, Dad. Nice tux.”

“Thanks. I love the gold.”

“Thanks.” I wore a gown made of gold fabric with gold earrings and matching shoes. I always joked I would wear a gold wedding dress and make everyone wear white—and he said he loved that.

“Where’s Ryan?”

“Oh…he couldn’t make it.” I’d known he would ask about him, but I still wasn’t prepared for the bald-faced lie I’d just told.

My father saw right through it. “He wasn’t right for you anyway.”

I didn’t know how he knew. Maybe his men saw Ryan leave and reported back to him. Or maybe he’d watched our conversation unfold from across the room. I didn’t ask. “He couldn’t accept my lifestyle.”

“It’s not for everyone.”

“It’s not for most people, it seems.”

“The right man will come along, sweetheart. I’m sorry you had to go through that in the middle of a party. Not the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Well, I kinda pulled it out of him.”

“Because you see things from a mile away, just like I do.” He stepped closer to me and hugged me, his powerful arms locking me inside a steel-bar cage. He held me like that for several seconds, making me feel safe, before he released me. “Dinner is about to be served. I saw that they have gnocchi.”

“Because you asked for gnocchi.”

He smiled. “You got me.”

3

AXEL

After our conversation, she was a beacon of light that floated through the crowd, her gold dress sparkling in the light. The most stunning woman in that room, she had tanned skin, beautiful dark hair that reminded me of the paint job on my car, and lips so full they were made to be kissed. I watched her move about, sipping my drink like I was on the couch at home watching TV.

“Axel.”

I turned to regard Dante, who hadn’t bothered with the champagne and had gone straight for the good stuff. “Any of the pieces interest you?”

Just your daughter. “I don’t care for art.”

“Then you don’t care for life.”

“I think life is more than a piece of art on the wall. It’s about living in the moment, not staring at someone else’s moment.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. “For someone who doesn’t care for art, that was an eloquent justification.”

I’d gone to private school. Did all the things that rich, snobby kids did. I was more educated than people realized, and I was a lot more intelligent than people realized too. “I think Quinten has had a good time.”

“Good.” He faced the room with me, looking at the crowd of aristocrats who had come out to the party. Wining and dining people to get what Dante wanted wasn’t his cup of tea, but he had to learn.

My eyes wanted to linger on Scarlett, but I forced myself to look elsewhere.

“Axel.”

I turned to regard him head on.

“Come with me.” He left his drink on the table beside us and took the lead, leaving the grand room and moving down the hallway.

I left my drink behind and followed him.