Page 2 of By His Rule

I bite down on the inside of my cheek.

It’s not fair. In fact, it’s really fucking unfair that, not only was he born into one of the wealthiest families in the country, enabling him to walk straight into a high-profile, well-paying, and powerful job, but he was also gifted with model-like looks.

How are the rest of us mere mortals meant to compete with the likes of him?

A rush of copper fills my mouth as bitterness floods my veins.

“I’m amazed I’m the first to try and join you,” he says smoothly before looking in the direction of the barman and immediately getting his attention. Of course.

It physically pains me not to roll my eyes.

“Macallan, please,” Kian orders. “And another—” He glances over at me for confirmation of what I’m drinking.

I refuse to comply or allow him to buy me a drink. Buy—what a joke. Of course this wedding includes an open bar. Other than watching my best friend say her vows, it’s the best part of the whole day. Hopefully, if I drink enough, I’ll be able to ignore the stench of pretense that permeates the room.

You could leave, a little voice says.

Tate has gone. Kingston literally dragged her away to celebrate their nuptials alone.

Lucky her…

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Kian’s eyes narrow in irritation before his hand darts out, stealing my glass from the bar before me.

“What are you?—”

“Porn star martini,” he says to the barman after sniffing my glass. My chin drops. “She’ll take another.”

“H-how did you…” I stutter like a fool once the barman has retreated.

He smirks, making perfectly symmetrical dimples pop in his cheeks before he winks cockily.

Jesus.

“I’m not just a pretty face, Lorelei,” he rasps, his smirk growing.

His voice flows through me, and damn him if my thighs don’t involuntarily clench.

It’s a natural reaction to a virile man, I try telling myself. It has to be that because there is no way on earth I’m in any way attracted to this arrogant jerk.

“Debatable,” I mutter under my breath as I turn my attention back to the bottles lining the bar. They’re almost as pretty, and they certainly contain less bullshit.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” he says, shifting his stool closer so that the heat of his arm warms mine.

“Yes, you did,” I say confidently. “Was there something you wanted other than to interrupt my peace, Kian?”

I don’t look over to see his reaction. I don’t need to. The reflection of the gold trim that covers the bar does the job perfectly well.

His nostrils flare and he sucks in a sharp breath as his lips part in surprise.

I mentally give myself a high five. I’m not sure it’s often anyone gets the upper hand when it comes to any of the Callahan brothers.

“I don’t feel like we got off on the right foot,” he says, attempting to turn this back around again.

“Is that right?”

We’ve actually met a few times over the years, thanks to our mutual friends, but I don’t know him. I’ve never cared to.

---