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I hang up the phone with another eye roll. Doing that would mean talking to him, and I have no intention of doing that.
Not for the first time in the last week I imagine what it would be like if I never left Wyatt and Elias’s place. In such a short time my entire life could have changed.
If only I’d been brave enough to follow my heart.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
ELIAS
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Wyatt asks for the ninth time since we left the house.
“Do you have a better one?” I question, my brow raised as we walk through the ballroom. I pick up a glass of champagne for each of us and hand one to him.
“I mean, no. But ambushing her at a very public event seems like there’s a lot of things that could go wrong.”
He’s not wrong, but we’ve been staking out Leighton’s house all week, and there’s been no sign of her. She hasn’t so much as walked to the end of the street in that time, and if I don’t get eyes on her soon I’m going to lose my fucking mind. Or break into her house and kidnap her. Neither option is especially good. So this is what we’ve got to work with.
We get invited to a lot of these things and happened to have an invitation sitting in our personal assistant’s tray to politely decline, but she hadn’t gotten around to it yet, which worked well for us. Wyatt and I have no problem donating money, and we do frequently, but these events are nothing more than a pissing contest for the wealthy families of New York, and there’s nowhere I’d like to be less.
Except for tonight. We’ve been digging and digging and digging all week, finding out everything there is to know about Leighton and her family, as well as her asshole fiancé and his family, and boy, has it been enlightening. A police commissioner who all but promotes reckless policing, a shoot-first-and-ask-questions-later approach that I can’t figure out how he’s getting away with. And a governor who has more interest in making money on the dark side of the city than he does actually helping his constituents and doing what’s in their best interests.
Both men are breaking laws left, right, and center, and yet they’re getting away with it. I guess that says a lot about the country we live in.
That’s not to say we’re good men because no one could ever accuse us of being that, but at least we’re honest about it. We know what we are, and we own up to it.
I down the glass of champagne, but I barely taste the bitter bubbles as they go down. As much as I wish I was as confident about this plan as I keep making Wyatt think I am, I’m not. Through all our digging, there’s been one thing we keep coming back to, and we haven’t been able to uncover it no matter how deep we dive.
What are these two influential families getting out of marrying off their only children to one another? And why are they both going along with it?
It’s then that I catch sight of our girl, and she’s even more beautiful than I remembered. It’s only been a week since we’ve seen her, but it might as well have been a lifetime, and by the way Wyatt relaxes beside me, he feels the same way.
It doesn’t seem to matter that we only spent a night together, or that we’ve learned more about her from files and research than we have from anything she’s told us, somehow she became our entire world that night.
Jason’s hold on her arm is anything but gentle as he steers her around a group of photographers, navigating her to the opposite side when they’re forced to pose for a photo.
“That’s strange,” Wyatt comments, his brows pulled together the same way mine are.
I nod. “It is.”
They continue toward a table at the front, but there are too many people around for me to get a good look at her. She’s wearing an elegant black floor-length satin gown and fits her curves like a glove. Her hair is styled in waves over her bare shoulders, and the perfect amount of her ample chest framed by the strapless sweetheart neckline.
She’s a fucking wet dream, and I can’t wait to devour her over and over again. But even then, I’m not sure I’d get my fill.
The smile pulled across her ruby-red lips is tight and forced, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hint of fear dancing in her eyes. If we hadn’t already decided over and over again that this dick was going to die a slow, painful death, he’s just signed himself another death warrant.
“What’s our plan?” Wyatt asks and drains his own glass before dropping it on a nearby high table.
“Let’s go find our seat.” I smirk.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE
LEIGHTON
Iknew tonight was going to be bad before I even finished putting my makeup on. There wasn’t any one thing that gave me that impression, but a whole bunch of little ones.
The way my fake lashes stuck to my fingers instead of my eyelashes when I was applying them, how Jason’s eyes roamed over my body disapprovingly as he perused what I was wearing, and how he hadn’t let go of me since we walked out the front door.
Does he think I’m going to run away from him?
