Oaths and Omissions (Monsters & Muses #3)(40)

Her mouth flattens for the briefest second, and then she seems to shake it off, plastering a wide smile on her face. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. Not every day you get to shake hands with the man who almost took your husband from you.”

Cash and I exchange a look, and he reaches up to tug at the collar of his red sweater.

“Our relationship did start off a bit rocky, didn’t it?” Jonas removes his hand from hers, then wraps his arm around my waist, fitting me against him. His fingers dig into my hip, tiny sparks of pain resonating down the length of my leg.

“Just a tad.” She looks between us.

“But,” Cash adds, throwing his arm around Mama’s shoulders. “We’re willing to look past that, aren’t we? The Primroses are a very forgiving sort.”

“When pressured.” Daddy’s voice comes from behind us, his large frame filling the front doorway. His jaw clenches when he sees me, and his face grows red when he notices Jonas’s arm.

“Maybe if we didn’t have our fair share of fuckups, we could afford not to be.” Cash steps away from Mama, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his gray dress pants.

“Yes, yes, we’ve all made mistakes. Some pay more extensively than others, but that’s a story for another time.”

“The important thing is that Mr. Wolfe makes our baby girl happy. Right, Thomas?” Mama says, nudging him with her elbow.

But he won’t even meet my gaze. “Certainly, Erin.” Clearing his throat, Daddy throws open the front door, revealing the empty foyer. “Let’s eat while it’s hot.”

He holds his arm out for Mama, and we follow them through the house to the courtyard in the back. A wave of nostalgia turns my stomach on its axis, the realization that I went from never leaving this house to not seeing it in weeks making me long for simpler times.

“What do you think that’ll cost me?” Cash asks, hooking his arm in mine to mimic our parents.

Jonas trails close behind, his presence a constant source of heat at my back. The only thing keeping me from puking all over the floor right now.

“Be prepared to lose your inheritance,” I tell my brother.

“About time I join the likes of you and Palmer.”

I snort. “Where is Palmer, anyway?”

“Running late, I’m sure. You know how he loves his grand entrances.”

When we get to the glass doors off the dining area, the nostalgia evaporates and gets replaced with violent disgust.

Preston Covington sits at the end of the long, rectangular patio table, a cloth napkin tucked into the collar of his polo shirt. Surrounded by a hoard of men in varying states of dress—two in suits, and two who look like carbon copies of my ex.

Men I wish I didn’t recognize, but that automatically send my body into a state of frenzied panic.

They aren’t the only nonfamily guests, either. In fact, that table is among several others, all with chairs filled. Strangers, but by the looks of it, important people in Daddy’s life that I’m sure he’s invited for publicity’s sake.

Jonas’s hand finds my lower back, guiding me to the seats we’re instructed to take.

Right across from Preston.





19





“So. How’s business?”

Daddy’s question makes the rest of the table pause, looking up from their plates. It’s directed at Jonas, who smirks behind the lid of his champagne flute.

As if anything about this situation is funny.

Placing the flute on the table, Jonas clears his throat. “The pub is doing quite well, actually. More consistently in the summer and fall months, but there’s not been a shortage of patrons throughout the year in a long time.”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Daddy nods. “I see. And your other business… ventures? Surely, you’re aware that my little girl is accustomed to a certain lifestyle. How do you plan to manage that on a bar owner’s salary?”

Even though I haven’t touched my food, I choke anyway, sputtering into my hand.

Jonas rubs my back, then reaches for my mimosa. I take it from him and sip slowly, letting the bubbles distract from the volume of people watching my every move.

“While I’m sure I’ll have no issues satisfying Lenny,” he says, and I choke again, mimosa dribbling down my chin. The groove in Preston’s forehead deepens, and at the other end of the table, Palmer and his boyfriend snicker. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my other ventures because of NDAs and contractual boundaries. You know how it is.”

A dark cloud descends on the table, the unspoken meaning behind Jonas’s words clogging the air. Daddy’s fingers tighten around his fork, and he spears into the quiche in front of him.

“Where’d you two meet, anyway?” Preston pipes up, leaning back in his seat. “You don’t really run in the same circles.”

“The Flaming Chariot,” I say, finding my voice once I’ve dried myself. Everyone stares blankly, and I internally roll my eyes. “His bar?”

“Helene,” Mama chides, and I see Jonas’s eyes widen slightly at the name. “Since when do you go to bars?”

“Since Palmer started dragging me to them.”

My brother freezes, his fork suspended with a bite of frittata on it. “Hey, that was only a couple of times. Not my fault the recreational options on the island are limited. You guys would’ve died if I’d brought her to the city.”