A few torturous seconds later, Delaney nodded at Sephie and disappeared back through the curtains. I sucked in a breath.
“Has anyone seen Nixon Noble?” Persephone asked as she came over to us. “He’s in the next group.”
“The football jocks are over on the couch,” Hudson answered.
“Thank—what are you wearing, Cannon?” Persephone’s jaw dropped as she looked up at him.
“Did you not order us to wear tuxes?” he asked, still swirling that glass. Funny how he held drinks more often than he actually drank them.
“Exactly.” She motioned at his dark, silver dress shirt that he left unbuttoned at the neck, exposing his tats down to the third button. “Just once can you please do as I ask?”
He leaned forward slightly. “Would you like me to change, Princess?”
“Yes.” She swallowed, but didn’t back down. I had to give her that.
“Well, that’s too bad.” He smirked. “I’m here, ready to sell myself to the highest bidder for you, and I somehow doubt you’d return that favor. I’m in a fucking tux, and funny, the girls at Armani didn’t have a single problem with the way it came together. Are you telling me I don’t look good enough?”
Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and I heard someone whistle low beside me. Not sure which Noble twin it was, but both Nathan and Nixon had joined us.
“I’m not saying you don’t...look good. I would never be so rude.” Her eyes narrowed. “But it’s incredibly inappropriate for a black-tie event when you’re not wearing a tie.”
“Find the tattoos offensive?”
“No, the tattoos are...they’re you. They’re fine. I find your lack of a tie offensive.”
“Is there a problem here?”
Ahh, and now the trust-fund baby was in our midst. That was definitely going to do wonders to diffuse the tension. The guy cleared his throat and then put his shoulders back. I had half a mind to tell him that it didn’t matter what he did, he wasn’t going to be as tall as...well, any of us.
“No,” Cannon and Persephone answered in tandem, locked in a staring match.
“Look, they agreed on something. How sweet,” Nathan said.
Another low laugh escaped my chest.
“Bet he blinks first,” Nixon stated.
“I’ve got fifty that says she outlasts him,” Nathan countered.
“Put on a tie,” Persephone demanded.
“Didn’t bring one,” Cannon retorted, still sporting that smirk.
“I can get you one,” Michael offered.
“No,” they repeated in tandem.
“Nixon!” Langley hissed, her head poking through the curtain. “Get your boys and get over here!”
“It’s a damn good thing I love you,” Nixon said to his brother. Then he motioned at his teammates, and both the wide receiver and the running back for North Carolina stood from their seats and took off with their QB. “And whoever buys me had better be hot!”
Fuck, I’d forgotten about that part. I’d constructed everything in my bid for Delaney, and now I was going to end up spending a romantic date with whoever held their paddle up for the longest and was willing to pay the most. But Delaney would have her library back, and that was what mattered.
“What’s going on?” Connell asked, taking the place that Nixon had vacated and adjusting his kilt.
“Staring contest,” I answered.
“Who’s winning?” Connell enquired.
“I am,” Persephone and Cannon answered at the same time.
“Wanna get in on the pool?” Nathan asked.
“I’ll take fifty on her winning.” Connell handed Nathan a fifty, and I didn’t bother questioning where the hell he’d gotten it without pockets.
There were some things I didn’t need to know.
“Put. On. A Tie.” Persephone put her hands on her hips.
“Would you like me to fashion one out of thin air?” Cannon fired back.
“Really, I can just grab an extra one from the wardrobe box the assistants brought in,” Michael interjected. When neither responded, he moved forward, only to find Axel’s hand on his shoulder, blocking his way.
“I’d suggest you stay in your lane until they’ve settled this.”
“What? She’s in my—”
“Och, hate to break it to ye, but she’s not,” Connell whispered at the guy. Cannon’s jaw ticked, so it must not have been as quiet as he’d thought.
“Well, this is getting awkward,” I muttered and looked around the room, my eyes narrowing at a small, square table in the back right corner. I recognized one of the men as Asher Silas, our owner, and Nathan’s soon-to-be-brother-in-law. But who was… “Holy shit, is that Weston Rutherford?”
“It certainly is,” Persephone answered without breaking her stare-off.
“How the hell did you get him?” I asked. The guy was the owner of Nixon’s NFL team, and well...he didn’t exactly have a reputation for doing charity work.
“He plays poker with Mr. Silas once a month, along with Ethan Berkley.” Yep, she was still locked on Cannon as she listed the occupants of the corner table.
Jesus, one of them was going to have to back down eventually...right?
“The owner of the Hurricanes?” Axel guessed.