I zone in on the ornate head of the cane: a gold lion eating a snake. I whisper up at him, “Why does this have to be a war?”
“It’s only a war if you make it one.”
“Then what is this, Charlie?”
He sighs out an annoyed breath. “You know what this is, Jane.”
A test of loyalty.Interlopers beware. The Cobalt brothers will not let you through. Farrow endured a lukewarm version. Beckett took it upon himself to grill Farrow at every turn.
I hiss, “He’s provenenough.He sacrificed his job for me.” I’m trying desperately to open up the window for my boyfriend.
Charlie is slamming it shut. “Hundreds of men would follow suit if it meant they could date you. He’s not special.”
“He is when his career is his entire purpose and reason forbeing,” I combat. “Let’s just all go out to dinner and talk.” For once, I would like my family to shelve the dramatics.
Charlie squats and rests his forearms on his knees, our eyes parallel. I’m just as smart, just as capable, just as strong as my dear brother.
I don’t back down. “We don’t need to do this, Charlie.”
“Yes we do.” He leans forward. “Just remember we love you.”
Heat builds in my body, and I whisper back, “I hate you right now.”
He smiles. “It’ll diminish in time.” He rises.
Eliot is the one to clamp a hand on Thatcher’s back. “Follow us, boyfriend-in-law.”
Thatcher seems unruffled and ready for any hell. He swivels a knob on his radio and glances over at his brother.
Banks upnods to him. “Get some.”
I recognize the military lingo, but not all my brothers do. They send each other wary looks, and it creates a new tension. A new divide between them and Thatcher.
As though we belong to two vastly different worlds, and it’ll take blood and sweat to pull him into ours.
We can do this.I try to bolster courage as I come up beside my boyfriend.
Thatcher clasps my hand and threads our fingers.
We can jump over fences naked together.
Don’t be afraid, Jane.
9
THATCHER MORETTI
Cobalts area tornadic force you don’t want to fuck with. Out of the three famous families, they have the most power and can wield it with the snap of a finger.
Should I be afraid?
I think if I were someone else, I might shrink at the eye-popping, slack-jawedsight: all five Cobalt brothers strewn across a U-shaped booth like they’re Apollo, Zeus—godly figures—posing for an oil painting to be immortalized.
Among tabloids and fans, Xander Hale is considered the “prettiest” boy. Maximoff Hale is in a league of his own. And the Cobalt brothers—they’re cited as the “sexiest,” oozing some kind of ancient, sensual allure.
But as I lower on a chair next to Jane and face her brothers, I can’t flinch. Or shy. It’s not in me. I’ve seen and lived through the worst hell, and whatever conditions they set, I can survive.
I just can’t make an enemy out of them, and lately I’ve been way too good at making those.