Page 111 of The Photograph

The guests will arrive in a couple of hours.

I take Em’s hand. “Let me show you around.”

****

Gabe

Flanked by Mike and Cal, I move steadily through the small crowd in the makeshift ballroom, stopping every two steps to greet the guests. All two hundred and seventy-one of them, not including the press.

Cal leans closer. “From one to shoot-me-in the head, how bored are you?”

I drive my hands in my pockets. “Did you bring your gun?”

A blonde, over made-up, and underdressed woman steps before me.

“Gabe, what a wonderful party. I’m having a little party myself, next week, and—”

“Moira—”

“Maura,” she cuts in with a grin. “It’s Maura. We should talk, and you should definitely come to the new boat…” Her voice falters at my expression. “…but I’ll let you go back to your guests, and I’ll call you.”

Please don’t.Two more steps in and I stop dead in my tracks. And my body hardens. Aelin smiles at whoever is talking way too close to her ear. Fucking Justin Murray, the little fucker who used to love giving details of his conquests during work meetings.

When the bastard whispers something in her ear, I clench my jaw. She pulls away, only to be stopped by another of her acquaintances who kisses her on the cheek.

Mike nudges my shoulder with his. “Dude, relax. You look like your head is about to explode.” Before I can reply, my brother’s gaze zeroes in on his woman. “Cara’s here.” And he’s gone.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cal says.

We start for the side entrance when a short individual I can’t quite place steps in my path and extends his hand.

The man narrows his ferret eyes and straightens his back. “Bob Kings, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Matthews.”

This is going to be a fucking long evening. “Same. Enjoy your evening.”

The Bob guy steps besides me. “You know how to pick them, man. I envy you,”

I turn toward the short man. “Excuse me?”

Bob Kings chortles, his eyes on Aelin. “You’ve got great taste, man, she’s just gorgeous and I’ll happily pay for her services. After all, she did a great job on the house, too.”

Fisting my hands in my pockets, I bend down toward the little man. “Bob, is it?”

“Yes, Bob Kings, at your service.”

“Let’s talk outside, Bob.”

Bob almost runs after Caleb and me to the nearly deserted garden at the side of the house. When Cal tips his head down, I grab the pig by his neck.

“Who do you think you are, you fucking little turd? You’re coming into my house and disrespect my people? I hear you talk about a woman like that again, I will annihilate you. Nod if you understand.”

When he does, I release the piece of shit who folds over and coughs.

“Get the fuck out my house.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews—”

I lean in. “You’re not, but you will be if you don’t get the fuck out of my face.”

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