The Rake (Boston Belles #4)(75)

Sweven successfully avoided me the rest of the evening.

She fluttered between clusters of people like a butterfly, all husky laughter and white, pointy teeth.

I did my own rounds among clients and associates, pretending I wasn’t half-dead on the inside. Time seemed to melt like a Salvador Dali painting, and each tick of the watch on my wrist brought me an inch closer to turning around and walking away.

From my commitments.

Responsibilities.

From everything I had built and used as a wall against what was waiting for me in England.

At some point during the evening, Persephone slipped her arm through mine and tugged me from a particularly mind-numbing discussion about suspenders.

“Hey there, bud.” Her lavender gown hovered along the marble floor.

She was delicate as an eggshell, pale as the midnight moon. Sweet and placid, a far cry from her fire engine older sister; I could see why she suited Cillian, who was cold and callous everywhere. She brought his temperature up, while he cooled down her warmth. Yin and Yang.

But Belle and I weren’t complementary to one another. She was fire, and I was concrete. We did not mix well. I was sturdy, and even, and stable, while she thrived in chaos.

“How are the kids?” I asked Persephone blandly, already bored with the conversation.

What I’d do to talk to Sweven about peculiar animals just about now.

“They’re very well, but I doubt that’s what you want to talk about.” She gave me a lopsided grin and dragged me to the center of a human circle, consisting of Aisling, Sailor, and herself.

I complied, mainly because between getting my head bitten off by a pack of women and talking about suspenders, I’d die at the hands of the women any day of the bloody week.

I looked between all three of them.

“Looks like I’m the victim of some sort of intervention,” I drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sharp as always, Mr. Whitehall,” Sailor said, swinging back whiskey like it was water. Definitely her father’s daughter.

She was the only woman at the ball to wear a suit. She pulled it off fantastically. “We want to talk to you about something.”

That something was Louisa, I was certain.

I folded my arms over my chest, waiting for more.

“We wanted to know what you’re going to do to ensure Belle is safe and sound. After all, we betrayed her confidence by telling you about that man in Boston Common. Now we want to know that our decision was justified.” Aisling pinned me with a look.

They wanted to talk about that?

“Belle lives with me now, and I put Simon in charge of her. I’m monitoring her as best I can without putting an ankle GPS SCRAM on her.”

“Is an ankle monitor totally out of the question?” Sailor asked with the utmost sincerity.

“Yes, unless I want to lose a limb or two,” I deadpanned.

“I’m sure Simon’s great, but he’s only with her when she’s at the club. I still think you should ask for Sam’s help,” Aisling insisted.

“When I broached the subject of Sam with Belle, she said she had it under control and didn’t want his interference,” I pointed out smartly. “Going against her wishes would mean an early grave for me. How did you feel when Cillian sent Sam’s men after you?” I swiveled to Persephone, who turned salmon-pink, her gaze shifting to her feet.

“Not good,” she admitted. “But I got over it, eventually.”

“Luckily for your bastard husband, you’re as agreeable as a peach. Your sister, however, I think we can all agree is more of an under ripe grapefruit.”

Aisling frowned. “Belle is hotheaded, but sometimes you have to do things for a person, even when they don’t think they need it.”

“Spoken like a true tyrant. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Sweven was unattainable, unreachable, and unreasonable.

And I had to keep her alive.

Yay fucking me.

“If only we had an idea who it could be.” Sailor tapped her temple, thinking.

“She thinks it’s that arsehole she fired a while back,” I offered.

“Frank?” Persephone scrunched her nose.

I shrugged, even though I remembered his name. Of course I did. Any man in my position would.

“That makes sense. He’s the only loose end I can think of.” Sailor rubbed at her chin.

There was a brief silence, which I decided to fill with a question of my own.

“Has she told you anything about our situation?”

“What situation?” Persephone asked alertly. “I hope you’re treating her well.”

“Bitch, please,” Sailor snorted. “If anyone is getting unfair treatment there, it’s him.”

“She’s been moody,” I said vaguely.

“Don’t worry, it’s not because you’re marrying someone else.” Sailor looked highly amused, tucking one hand into the front pockets of her cigar pants.

So they did know about Louisa.

Belle didn’t hide it from them. She simply didn’t care enough to expand on the matter.

“Do you honestly believe she’d be fine with me marrying someone else?”

I sounded like a teenybopper asking her BFF whether she had a chance with Justin Bieber or not.