Cyrus pulled a cigarette from his pocket but didn't light it. He just flipped it irritably between his fingers, a look of pure, untamable frustration on his face. "I'm not looking to get married," he snapped."You're in your thirties, Cyrus. When exactly were you planning on starting?"Bonnie shot him a look. "Look at Derek. He already had—well, regardless, you're trying a girl out tonight. No excuses.""Women are nothing but trouble," Cyrus scoffed. Yet, for some reason, Tabitha's cold, stubborn face flashed in his mind."What trouble? Just go! These ladies have the bloodlines and the degrees to match yours. This is an order from your father. When the dancing starts, you pick a partner."Cyrus tossed the unlit cigarette, his eyes dark. "This sucks."He scanned the room. Every socialite in high-fashion silk felt her heart skip a beat when his gaze passed over her.Being the heir to the Holmes family meant he had the kind of powe
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