Page 70 of No Promises, No Lies

I blink back in surprise, searching his face for any trace of sarcasm, but I don’t find it. The raw vulnerability I see in his eyesis a direct line to the warmth I feel spreading across my cheeks, and something deep inside me twists.

The silence stretches out between us. All the air feels like it’s gone from the room, forcing my breaths to quicken. What air remains feels supercharged—crackling with something unspoken. Or maybe this dress is just too tight…

Just as I open my mouth in response, voices drift in from down the hallway—from the study. My father appears, wearing a politician’s smile, followed closely by Niko, Matteo, and Koen.

Koen?

The group halts, the conversation falling to a noticeable stop at the sight of us and I… I’m increasingly aware of the proximity between myself and the younger O’Rourke with every second that passes.

Sure enough, as soon as my eyes lock on Matteo, his expression darkens, sizing up Aidan beside me.

Remembering myself, I straighten my shoulders and take a few timid steps toward my fiancé. “I was looking for you—” I say hesitantly, thrown off a little by the way Matteo is glaring at me. “What are they doing here?” I look to Koen, who’s watching me with an unreadable expression not unlike his brother’s. His mouth tight, something like resignation in his eyes.I tilt my head in confusion.

It’s my father who finally breaks the uncomfortable silence, “O’Rourke and I had business to discuss.” He turns to the newly appointed head of the Irish mob, “We’ll see you boys at the party.”

Koen gives a curt nod to my father and another to me before striding out the front door, taking Aidan with him without another glance back in my direction. I stare after them, feeling completely thrown off my axis.

“Aurora?”

I turn, surprised to find Matteo now just inches away, looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I glance between him and my father, realizing I’ve missed something.

“I said, are you ready to go?” He speaks slowly, with marked annoyance in his tone. I’ve only met the man twice and already I’ve managed to piss him off.

“Yes,” I agree, nodding my head a bit too exuberantly.

We arrive at the Royale, one of the Bratva’s elite hotels. Matteo opens the door, even though he hasn’t spoken a word to me the entire ride. Too busy making endless polite conversation with the rest of the Kostalov family.

Surely he can’t be mad at me for standing in the foyer of my own house next to Aidan, can he?

My anxiety hits its peak as we walk through the lobby on our way to the ballroom, like we’re in some kind of royal procession.Matteo walks at my side but doesn’t take my arm, staring straight ahead. I twist a strand of my hair between my fingers, stealing anxious glances up at him every few minutes.

A nervous attendant informs my father it’ll be a moment before they’ll announce him into the party. Live music and the sound of voices carry through the closed doors ahead of us.

My father waves him away, “Fine, fine.”

The attendant scurries away, grateful to be dismissed.

“I’m going to get a drink,” Matteo announces out of the blue, adjusting his suit jacket, a deep navy.

My father nods, turning to discuss something with Niko.

Matteo starts back toward the lobby, and I feel the weight of his gaze. His eyes narrow, darting in the bar’s direction before coming back to rest on me.

Oh, he means for me to accompany him.It’s a bit of a shock seeing as how he’s practically ignored me all evening. I look to my father and Niko, but both are still fully engrossed in whatever it is they are discussing. I take a few cautious steps toward Matteo. Once he’s confirmed I’m following him, he stalks off toward the lobby and it’s a struggle to keep up with him in my heels.

I’ve just about caught up to him when he suddenly takes a sharp left turn down a service hallway. I follow him, confused, since we’re no longer headed for the bar. About halfway down the hall, he whirls on me.

I nearly stumble back in surprise, and he catches my arm before I fall, using his grip to shove me hard into the wall and hold me there.

Stunned, I stare up into cold, brown eyes, fixed on me. When he drops them to my chest, my breath catches and I try to squirm away, uncomfortable under his close gaze. “Nice dress.” The dangerous sarcasm in his tone sends a shiver racing down my spine.

Is that what this is about? Is he mad I didn’t wear the one he sent?

I struggle for a response, for anything to say, too surprised and distracted by the pain his hand is causing my arm. He tightens his grip, his fingers digging into my skin. The more I try to pull away from him, the tighter he grips, so I stop moving.

He smiles.

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