I’m in hell.
Cain surveyed the large formal dining room full of people. It reminded him too damn much of his father’s funeral. The guest list included business moguls, society darlings, celebrities and even a few professional athletes. Food and alcohol that probably cost more than most people’s yearly salary. A beautiful decor including antiques and artwork that had probably netted some interior designer a mint. The laughter and chatter from jeweled, tuxedoed and gowned guests.
Except this time, instead of celebrating a death, they were toasting his engagement.
Same thing, in his opinion.
The only good part about this trip to purgatory was that Gregory Cole had insisted the party be held in his Back Bay townhome instead of the mansion Cain had been forced to reside in for the next year. Any excuse he had tonotspend time in that mausoleum, he grabbed.
Still, he had to hand it to Gregory. When the man threw a party, he didn’t hold back. He’d gone all out to brag about his wealth and prowess to Boston society. Because regardless of what the invitations stated, this occasion wasn’t about Cain and Devon. It was all about Gregory Cole. An opportunity to gather the very people he sought to impress in one place. This wasn’t an engagement party but the beginning of his campaign to infiltrate their privileged, blue-blooded ranks. And like any good general, the man was a master strategist.
Disgust boiled inside Cain. He hated this. Hated the hypocrisy, the phoniness. And yet, here he stood, right in the midst of it, a hostage because of his loyalty to one person. The person he loved most in this world.
Emelia Farrell.
He scanned the room, and within seconds located his mother, as always, surrounded by a circle of admiring men and women. Though in her midfifties, in Cain’s eyes, she hadn’t aged a bit from the woman who’d read him bedtime stories when his father wasn’t home to forbid her from coddling him. The woman who’d gifted him with his first camera on his twelfth birthday. The woman who’d yelled the loudest and longest when he’d graduated from both high school and college, when his father couldn’t be bothered to attend either ceremony because of business trips. Time might’ve brushed her raven-black hair with touches of gray and grazed the corners of her eyes with lines, but it hadn’t stooped the proud lines of her shoulders, hadn’t dimmed the brightness of her blue eyes—or the love for him that shone there.
That love had brought her here tonight, to her ex-lover’s home. Cain didn’t know the details of her affair with Gregory, and he couldn’t ask because she wasn’t aware he possessed knowledge of it. Still, even if the relationship had ended amicably, Gregory now used it as a weapon against her and Cain. And damned if he would allow his mother to discover her affair with Gregory was the sword held to Cain’s throat.
Unbidden, his focus shifted to the woman at his mother’s side—his fiancée. Though his mother had met Devon for the first time tonight, she’d immediately taken to her. Even now, with their arms linked at the elbow, they appeared to be close friends instead of strangers who’d met only hours earlier. But how could his mother resist? Devon had assumed her friendly persona for the evening—the one that had snagged his attention. His mother had been enchanted and had told Cain so. Witnessing that delighted smile on her face—and the relief in her eyes—he hadn’t possessed the heart to disappoint her by revealing Devon’s true nature. How this engagement had more to do with mercenary greed rather than love.
As if sensing his perusal, Devon glanced away from the young man so animatedly talking to her and met Cain’s gaze. Damn, those eyes. Capable of gleaming with amusement, then shadowed with sympathy and sadness, then glazing over with passion. Chameleon eyes. Gorgeous eyes. Secretive eyes.
Against his will, his attention dipped to her lush mouth, painted in a bold red that begged to be smeared. It called to him, just as her body did in a dark green, floor-length gown that should’ve been modest. But the material clinging to the high thrust of her breasts, the indent of her waist and the dramatic flare of her hips transformed the simple style into a billboard for a wet dream.
She was a princess holding court. Accepting all the attention and praise as her due. Regal and untouchable.
All lies.
Especially since he couldn’t evict from his mind just howtouchableshe was.
“It’s your engagement party, son.” Gregory appeared beside him, clapping Cain on the shoulder. “You should be enjoying yourself instead of standing over here in the corner. Go mingle. After all, these people are here to celebrate you and your bride-to-be.”
Cain snorted. At both the man and the admonishment. “These areyourguests, not mine. And considering I was informed of this little get-together a couple of days ago when the invitations had been mailed out a week earlier, count yourself grateful I’m here at all.” He shrugged off the other man’s hand on the pretense of lifting his tumbler of Scotch to his mouth. “And don’t ever call me son.”
Gregory’s smile tightened and anger flashed in his eyes. “You’re not thinking of causing a scene in my home, are you, Cain? I wouldn’t advise it.” Tucking his hands into his front pockets, Gregory turned and made a show of surveying the room. “I was delighted that your mother chose to attend. She looks as beautiful as I remember.”
Rage barreled through Cain, licking at the restraints binding his control. His vision flickered to crimson, and for a moment, real fear that he would hurt this man flashed through him.
“Listen to me, Cole,” Cain growled, waiting for Gregory to swing his smug smile back to him before continuing, “and listen well. Don’t comment on my mother. Don’t look in her direction. Don’t even fucking think about her. You believe you have me by the short hairs with your blackmail scheme, but if you upset her—if I even suspect you hurt her feelings or breathed in her direction—I will raze your world to the ground, and I don’t give a damn if I go down in flames with you.”
“You’re in no position to threaten me,” Gregory snapped.
“Threaten you? Oh no, Cole. It’s a promise.”
The older man glared at him, a muscle ticking along his jaw. “I—”
“There you are, Cain.” Kenan strode up to them, Achilles beside him.
The two of them cut a wide path between the thick throng of people, leaving glances in their wake that ranged from admiring to curious to smirks and whispers. This was the first public appearance of the Farrell Bastards with their legitimate brother, after all. Irritation rose within him, swift and bright.
“Smart to position yourself near the bar,” Achilles rumbled, stepping past Cain and requesting a beer from the bartender.
“The man might not be much of a talker, but when he does speak, he makes perfect sense,” Kenan praised with a grin. He stretched a hand toward Gregory. “Kenan Rhodes. It’s nice to meet Cain’s future father-in-law.”
“Yes,” Gregory said, accepting his hand. “I’ve heard so much about you and your brother. Thank you for coming tonight.”
“Of course.” Kenan nodded, still smiling. He must’ve inherited that charm from his birth mother because God knew neither Cain nor Achilles had received it from their father. “Would you mind if we steal Cain from you for a moment?”
