He gestures me toward the front door as he hangs up, and I realize he’s hired a driver, or more likely recruited one of the lower level mafia members to play the role of chauffeur tonight.
I carefully slide into the limo that pulls up, minding the length of my dress, trying not to reveal too much. Aiden and I are both silent as we drive across Boston, each gazing out our separate windows.
The gala is on the upper floor of an expensive hotel, and the street in front of the building is lined with luxury cars as people arrive. Everyone here is wealthy and dressed to impress, diamonds and fur displayed in excess.
A valet holds the car door open for me, and I get out and walk around the back of the car to meet Aiden. When I step up next to him, he rests his hand on my lower back. The heat of his palm burns through my dress, and I’m acutely aware of it. Just an inch or two higher, and he’d be touching my skin.
I try not to think too hard about that.
The place is gorgeous, the inside of the hotel just as beautiful as the outside. It’s done in gold and cream with accents of crimson, everything expensive and well-maintained. There are elevators at the back and a bustling reception area on the ground floor.
We walk straight to the back elevator, a nineteen-twenties style affair with an enormous gilded front. There’s someone inside in a uniform and he presses the button for the top floor.
The side of the elevator is glass. I look out as we ascend, transfixed by the city skyline. This late in the evening, the multicolored lights of the city twinkle like stars.
After a few moments, the elevator doors open into the gala entryway. There are white roses and red hyacinth among other flowers bursting from vases. Everything twinkles, gold and glass, diamonds blinking under soft lighting.
Aiden’s brothers are nearby. They must have arrived before us. They linger near the entry, speaking in low voices.
Lachlan sees us first, and he nods at me when we arrive. “Rose.”
I nod back. I don’t really know what to do. Connor and Finn greet me with a similar coolness, although it shouldn’t really surprise me. I know they don’t like me—or more accurately, they don’t like my family.
There’s a woman with them. I don’t recognize her, but she turns to me after greeting Aiden.
“Hi. I’m Violet, I’m a friend of the family.”
“Violet. I’m Rose,” I say, tentatively smiling back at her. “Did you attend—?”
“Battle Hill Prep? Oh, no,” she says, laughing. “I can’t imagine spending that much time with these guys, although I love them. They can be a lot, can’t they?”
I laugh, a little more at ease. Violet seems nice, but more importantly, she seems like she doesn’t mind giving the O’Reilly brothers shit. They don’t seem to mind getting it from her, either. Connor just snorts and bumps her arm with his elbow, but the move is halfhearted at best. He doesn’t seem annoyed that she’s saying anything, even if it’s to me.
“All right, where’s the alcohol?” he says after a moment, glancing around the room. “Half this crowd isn’t nearly as interesting as they think they are.”
“Half this crowd has potential,” Lachlan says quietly, scanning the guests like a predator scoping out his prey.
So that’s what this is. I guessed there was something important about the gala, but it hadn’t really come to mind that it would be a place the brothers could do mafia business. My father never brought me to events like this. He must have a different style of doing business than they do.
“Well, if there’s champagne, we’ll find it,” Violet says.
Before I can react, she slips her arm through mine and waves goodbye to the men. I look to Aiden before I can help myself, but he’s talking to Lachlan.
I guess he trusts Violet enough to take me. Or maybe he doesn’t care.
There are servers everywhere, and people mingling in groups. I glance at the guests as we walk, trying to guess who’s in the mafia and who’s just rich. It’s unnerving to realize I can’t be sure. After all, my father is part of the criminal side of Boston, but you would never know from the outside.
“So, are you from here?” Violet asks. She finds a server with champagne and effortlessly turns us, making a beeline for him.
I nod. “I went to Battle Hill Prep with—the O’Reillys.”
I stumble on my words, almost saying Aiden’s name before I feel like I’m giving away too much. I’m not sure if Violet notices. She brings us up to the server and smiles at him, offering a polite word and a smile as she takes a glass.
We chat for a few minutes, and I’m relieved to find that despite the cold shoulder the O’Reilly brothers gave me, Violet is warm and friendly. I learn that she’s a ballet dancer in the city, although I never quite figure out what brought her into the brothers’ orbit, and I’m not sure I should ask.
She must be a pretty successful dancer, because we’re interrupted by a few guests a short while later who approach Violet to compliment her on a recent performance.
She gets drawn into a conversation with them, and I take the opportunity to slip away, hoping to find a quiet corner where I can watch the event unfold without having to talk to anyone.
