“Hmm.” Arsenio pulled me close tying my coat’s drawstrings. “Under normal circumstances, this would be a sensible, wise suggestion that’d be rewarded with your pussy on my face. But it’s not that simple, Rainey. Keeping as much property out of his hands is our first, second, and third priority. Laws are all well and good, but once he has the land, the ‘asking for forgiveness instead of permission’ route becomes a lot easier to take under cover of darkness. I know you don’t understand this.” He pressed a soft kiss on my forehead. “But we’ve done what is necessary. Just as we will tonight, and every day coming.”
My eyes fluttered shut.
I did understand. Thanks to Cairo, I understood all too well. Arsenio was right. If they had the land, they could fence it, block it off, chain it up, and who’d know what they were doing till someone finally busted in. By then, Steven Ellis could make off with exactly what he came here for, and after what was done to Paris, it was my life’s mission to ensure he didn’t get it—no matter how many dinners they made me plan.
Jacques, Cairo, Legend, and Roan waited at the bottom of the stairs for us. We split into two cars, and not a lot of chatter went on in mine.
Legend and Roan rode up front. Arsenio sat next to me, absentmindedly stroking my nipple through the fabric, just to have my mind well and truly scrambled before we arrived.
In the distance, Bedlam Town Hall rose over the horizon.
Our town hall builder stole his design plans from the same blueprints used for others around the nation.
Columns lifted the triangular roof and its sign bearing our name. Two stories of red brick, a meeting room, offices, and banquet hall for seasonal parties and the rare times VIPs dropped onto our patch of land for a visit. It was the simplest of simple spaces—designed for function, not fancy.
Until Palmer Baskin got her hands on the place.
My mouth fell open when I walked in. Ellis’s event planner spared no expense. Each white linen-covered table was topped with oversized wineglasses that spilled flowers over the rim. Curtains were brought in to drape along the walls, cutting scarlet lines through the room. On stage, a string quartet serenaded the arriving who’s who of Bedlam and Hunter’s Crest.
A warm hand fell on my back. “Would you like to meet the woman who bore me?”
“Yes,” I said, turning into Roan’s arms. “I want to know if there were any early signs after you were born. A six six six on your scalp or maybe horns sticking out of your curls.”
He laughed. “I’ve progressed from an imp to the devil. Loving the promotion, honey lips.”
“Please, don’t say anything that’ll make me blush in front of your mother.”
Roan whispered in my ear. “No promises.”
Roan was handsome in everything he wore from a suit to a saddle. That said, he gathered his wicked, devilish aura and channeled its power to become the sexy, tight-suited picture before me.
His untamed locks were battled into submission, and swept back from his eyes—gifting all their full intensity. Roan put something on his lips that enhanced their natural pink. His kiss told me it tasted of cherries.
Roan led me off, strolling slow around the tables. “How many of these faces are familiar?”
“Not many,” I admitted. “I recognize Legend’s mom and dad over by the stage, and who they’re talking to—Nora, Jack Sharpe, and Paris’s father. Otherwise, it’s just a bunch of faces I’d sometimes see when Gran and I came into town for supplies.”
“That’s all right because there’s one face that’s more important than the rest.” Roan gestured with his chin, drawing my eye two tables over.
He didn’t have to tell me his name. One look, and I saw Jeremy in his eyes and Micah in his long, tended locks. Steven Ellis tossed his head back laughing and his hair flipped, catching candlelight in his strands. Small-framed glasses hung on a nose slightly crooked as if from a break.
Steven spoke to a woman whose black hair pulled tight from her face. She did not laugh with him. Actually, she didn’t so much as smile, though he was having the time of his life talking to her. She just nodded along, delicately sipping her champagne and looking refined in an empire-waist dress.
“Eileen Stone,” Roan said.
“Jacques’s mom?”
“Yep. I know what you’re thinking, and I’ve had the same fantasy.”
“You do not know what I’m thinking, because it most definitely wasn’t that I’d like to sleep with my boyfriend’s mom.”
“Your boyfriend, is he? Damn. Guy has sex with you once and enters into a commitment.”
I bumped his shoulder. “Imagine what that means for you.”
“There’s a storage room at the end of the hall. More than enough room.”
Checking to make sure no one was looking, I scraped his lobe between my teeth, biting down. “We can’t now,” I murmured. “I want to, but I got us into this mess. I can’t abandon the guys in it.”