Wren’s family isn’t as perfect as I’d imagined before I knew him.
“She didn’t think he was mature enough? I understand that. He’s acting like a brat right now.”
He laughs, much to my surprise, and he drops his arm around my shoulders before pulling me against him, as though he needs to feel me. So confusing.
“He is a brat. But she didn’t give him the businesses because Billy works off numbers only. If he felt he could make more money by selling off pieces of the businesses, he would have. Mom wants everyone in her company to have stability in their jobs.”
Business and family—I’ve always heard they don’t mesh well together.
“He’s also pissed because Tag and I just bought another business, even though Billy offered much more money. The prior owners knew Billy would just divide the business and sell it off in pieces. Tag isn’t like that and neither am I. So we got what Billy wanted. It only adds fuel to the fire whenever I get something he wants. He always lashes out. This is him lashing out.”
“That’s seriously screwed up and wrong,” I tell him, actually feeling pissed on his behalf.
“It’s nothing. Billy had a good girl not too long ago—one that adored him and loved him. Her name was Shannon, and she’s Ash’s friend. But Billy is his own worst enemy and sabotaged the relationship by cheating on her the second Erica and I started talking about divorce. Erica went to him again in order to hurt me—which it didn’t. He did it because he loves the chase, the conflict, and the exhausting drama. Shannon was in love and easy for him to be with. Billy doesn’t do easy.”
My stomach churns with disgust. I think I hate Billy Prize. Wren’s much better than I would be. If Bella screwed me over like that, I’d… I don’t know what I’d do. But I know I wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as her.
My eyes fall on Tag and Ash as he spins her to him, dancing with her to the soft music of the stringed quartet—yes, there’s a stringed quartet here. I’m almost surprised there’s not an orchestra.
A small smile plays on her lips as she rests her head against his chest, and Tag holds her to him like nothing else in the world matters. Kode pulls Tria out to the middle of the floor, smirking like he has a secret, and she willingly lets him ease her against him, leaving no space between their bodies as he starts dancing with her.
But I almost laugh when I see Rye and Brin. They look so sweet right now, his arms are around her, her head is nestled in his chest as they dance like it’s a junior-high dance. I keep waiting on her to do something wicked, but she seems to be too happy and content to make his life hell for the moment.
Rain and Dane are also dancing… He really is a sexy, smooth guy. I swear he looks like he was made to hold her that way. Slowly, my eyes drift to Raya and Kade, but I look away quickly, laughing lightly.
I really don’t need to see Kade devouring her like no one else is around.
Wren’s hands slide around my waist, and my breath catches in my throat. “Let’s dance,” he whispers close to my ear, his breath doing delicious things as it slithers provocatively down my neck.
“Is that a good idea?” I ask carefully.
“Probably not, but I still want to dance with you.”
Yeah. Like I can stop myself from melting.
He turns me around and moves us through the crowd, his eyes holding mine, as a half-cocked grin plays on his lips. The space between us disappears when he starts moving me to the music, holding me tight and staring down into my eyes the entire time.
My entire body is on fire. I don’t know how much more torture I can endure.
But hearing Erica calling for Wren is like ice water on the fire, and he groans before brushing his lips against my forehead.
Erica is staggering drunk now, and Billy is right on her heels, trying his best to get her under control. It’s pointless though. A champagne flute shatters as she bitterly yells and causes a scene. Amongst the rustling and indignant gasps of shocked bystanders, I can’t really understand her words.
Wren abandons me to go whisper in some guy’s ear. The next thing I know, Erica is being hauled out of the room by three men, and Wren is pulling my hand in his, moving us toward a set of stairs.
“I think it’s time to check on our daughter,” he says calmly, as though he didn’t just have to have his ex escorted—well, manhandled—out of here.
The man is made of stone, completely in control of his every emotion. I almost envy is impenetrable composure.