Page 68 of Beast

“You’re fucking engaged?” Lars looks from me and then to Belle. “You know he’s punching above his weight, right?”

She grins. “Oh, I’m well aware.”

She laughs, and it’s genuine and tightens the knot in my chest.

“Well, then, this is a cause for celebrating,” Demri says, swiping her tears from her cheeks.

“And if there’s one thing we Knights know how to do, it’s how to fucking celebrate,” Balls says with a grin.

“Fuck yeah, let’s party,” Sticky yells.

Mya squeals with excitement.

The other club girls and old ladies smile in agreement.

Except Annika.

Our eyes meet through the excitement, and she shakes her head.

She senses something else is at play here but doesn’t know what, and I know I’m going to have to tell her eventually.

But not tonight.

My gaze drifts back to Belle where she’s showing the old ladies her engagement ring, and before I know it, I’m fucking smiling.

Lars puts a big hand on my shoulder. “You sure this is fake, brother?”

My smile fades. “She knows there is a lot at stake. She’s playing her part.”

“I wasn’t talking about her.” He lifts an eyebrow. “The way you look at her…”

“I’m playing my part too.”

He side-eyes me but doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.

When the band starts to play, the party really starts. My club brothers dance with their old ladies. Sticky and Balls grab a club girl each, and I don’t really know what they’re doing. I suppose it could be called dancing. But hell, those boys have no rhythm.

Those not dancing eat bowls of chili and barbecue at the outdoor tables, and the sound of laughter rises above the music.

It doesn’t take the sting out of what Boney has done to the fundraiser. But it does create a sense of celebration. It vibrates in the twilight as my club brothers, their old ladies, and the club girls continue to make a fuss about my new fiancée.

When Lars leaves me to dance with his mom, Belle makes her way over to me and hands me a beer.

“You’re a good actress,” I say, taking the solo cup from her.

“It’s hard not to be when I’m wearing a giant glacier on my finger.” She holds it up and it glitters in the streetlight. “It’s beautiful. Where did you even get something like this?”

“It’s a family heirloom. My great grandfather bought the diamond overseas and had it made for my great grandmother when he returned from the war.”

Her arm drops and she looks up at me with wide eyes. “You mean, this isn’t a fake?”

“Who said anything about it being a fake?”

She looks at it again, her brow furrowed as she whispers, “I thought it would be.”

She studies the ring, admiring the beauty. When she looks up, her eyes are soft.

“I can’t take this,” she says softly. “This means something to you.”

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