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Miles really isn’t an unattractive man. He’s nearly as tall as Landon and built similarly. Except, looking at him now, I can’t help but find him wanting. Like my father, Miles wears tailored, expensive suits. His jacket is a charcoal gray, his slacks a matching color, and he wears a pale gray button-down. Everything about him screams corporate management, down to his black oxfords and platinum Rolex. His brown hair is slicked back, and tastefully short, and his brown eyes are inviting. He carries himself with the confidence of knowing his place in the world... and the expectation that others will bow to him.
He’s one of Newgate’s most eligible bachelors and one of the last men I’d ever want to marry. He’s a sycophant of my father, someone who alters his personality based on those around him. There’s no drive in his soul or spark in his eyes.
He’s boring.
Perfect for my father to mold into his own creation.
Miles steps forward, an award-winning smile showing his perfect teeth, and retrieves a ring box from his pocket. He stops a polite distance away, nowhere close enough to suggest enough of an intimacy between us that a couple should have. To his credit, he doesn’t look at my father as he opens the ring box, keeping his attention entirely on me. The ring is ostentatious, a large round cut diamond that’s at least three carats, set on a thin platinum band.
It’ll be impossible to wear while playing my cello.
“I know this is unconventional, Wren,” he begins, his tenor voice inspiring nothing within me. “However, I can say from the years I’ve been acquainted with you that we will suit each other in marriage. I look forward to growing closer to you and continuing your father’s legacy through a family of our own.”
I’m quiet, waiting for him to actually ask me to marry him. As the silence stretches out, Miles’ expression hints at uncertainty and he steals a look at my father. Oberon clears his throat pointedly. I realize then that the question isn’t coming. Gritting my teeth, I hold my left hand out flat, splaying my fingers enough that Miles can slip the ring on.
He does so with the same smile he wears after signing a contract he negotiated in his favor, and while I’m fixated on the ring, which dwarfs my narrow finger, he steps forward and presses his dry lips to my cheek. Out of instinct, I jerk back from him, not expecting any physical affection from him. His brows narrow, and I clear my throat and smile at him apologetically.
“You took me by surprise is all,” I say, adopting the serene voice I use when speaking to peers. I glance down at the ring again. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Satisfied by my explanation, Miles turns beside me and takes my arm and threads it through his before patting my hand. “We’ll get used to each other easily enough, I’m sure.” His eyes drop to my low neckline before winking at me. My stomach curdles at the slight leer from him. My father saves me from needing to make any response.
“Good,” he says with a clap of his hands. “Wren, you’ll be hearing from the wedding planner in the morning. Until then, we’re running late.”
He turns, practically marching back towards the restaurant like a general leading us into war. Like a good little soldier, Miles follows on his heels, tugging me along with no care for the height of my heels or my considerably shorter stride. I don’t mind as much as I should, since focusing on keeping pace lets me ignore how my thighs are still slick from another man pleasuring me. I don’t think about the heavy weight on my left hand, the one Miles has placed on his arm to ensure the clear display of the engagement ring. I don’t think about how the last thing I want to do is to sit through a business dinner where I’ll be limited to salads or low-carb entrees.
“Ah, Mr. Polastri.”
I look up as my father greets the man we’re having dinner with. His back is to us as he rises and when he turns towards us, his hand out to grasp my father’s in a firm handshake, I’m ready to run the hell out of there.
“You know my associate, Miles Wright,” Oberon says as they both turn towards us. Miles releases me to shake the man’s hand, and then my father gestures to me. “This is his fiancé, and my daughter, Wren.”
Polite manners ingrained for years in me has me mechanically smiling and accepting the handshake as I meet blue eyes, glinting with mischievousness.
“What a pleasure to meet you,” Landon purrs as he grasps my hand with the very one he’d fucked me with.
Chapter Seven
LAN
She’s engaged. I imagine the proposal was very recent given that the tasteless boulder of a ring wasn’t weighing her down when I had my fingers in her hot channel earlier, nor would it have fit in her clutch without an unsightly bulge. Based on how responsive Wren is to me, blushing each time I make eye contact with her across the table, and how little she engages with Miles, it’s certainly not a love match.
Oberon doesn’t realize what a perfect opportunity he’s creating for me in his daughter.
“Now, Mr. Polastri—”
“Call me Landon, I insist,” I interrupt Oberon, watching him closely. I’ve never taken a new name and served under him as Landon Polastri. If he recognizes my name, he hides it well. I’ve pushed my plate aside, ignoring it in favor of discussing a so-called business deal with Oberon. Miles is little more than a puppet, agreeing with Oberon and never offering an opinion unless I directly ask for it. He’s even wearing a near identical outfit to Oberon, though Oberon wears the charcoal suit better.
“Landon,” he agrees, his dark brows raising in acceptance. “I prefer to be direct in my dealings. I’ve found anyone worth doing business with is willing to face confrontation and doesn’t mind a direct approach.”
He sits in the dining chair, his forearms resting wide apart on the table, his palms flat, lording over us like the war general I know him as. In defiance of him, I lean back comfortably in my chair, one hand curled loosely around my glass of whisky, the other in my slacks pocket toying with the lacy thong I’d stolen from his daughter. My cock has been at half-mast the entire dinner, and my easy grin has nothing to do with being in the presence of the great Oberon Benoit.
“Then by all means,” I say, keeping my gaze on him. His heartbeat is steady, but it’s the quick one across from me that is trying to demand my attention. It’s almost irritating, how much effort it’s taking to not look over at Wren and memorize her. To not imagine how her heart will race as I drag the tip of a blade over her unblemished skin.
When I’d had her on the precipice of orgasm earlier, I’d given her a taste of my own depravities. I’d used my vampiric strength to cut her inner thigh with my thumbnail.
I craved her pain, and I’d almost come in my pants when it had sent her over the edge. Her pussy clamped down on my fingers so brutally, her face contorting in beautiful pleasure.
Wren is dangerous.
