Page 83 of Ruthless Beasts

“There are stairs going down. Did we want to take the elevator instead?” I looked over my shoulder, losing my breath for a moment as our girl watched me. Her lips quirked a little as I watched her eyes move down and then back up to my eyes.

“You look good in that tux. Actually, all of you do.”

Her observations made my skin heat. “You like it?” I teased. “This old thing.”

“Shut up.” She gave my back a slight shove. “I doubt that is old.”

It wasn’t. We each got a new tux to match her dress. Adam, all black with a yellow pocket square. Ace, all black with a yellow bowtie. A bold yellow vest accented mine.

“I wear yellow daily,” I jested.

“I’ve not seen any of you in any color that wasn’t black, white, or blue. And you know it.” She reached for Ace’s hand. “We’ll take the stairs down, at least this once. After that, I doubt my feet can handle any more stairs anyway.”

“Do they hurt?” Adam was ready to carry her at that single mention of her feet.

“No. They are fine. These shoes aren’t bad.”

Adam pulled his phone from his pocket. “I’ll have my assistant bring you some flats.”

“That’s unnecessary,” she tried to argue, but it was worthless.

“It’s too late. The order was made. Now,” he grabbed onto her other hand, “let’s get you down the stairs. The sooner, the better. I’d rather use the elevator, but with your need to make princess grand entrances, I doubt you will let me lead you to the lift.”

“I don’t need to make princess grand entrances,” she corrected. “I just really like this dress. I wasn’t allowed to go to many functions with my father.” She cringed at the thought. “Unless he needed me.”

“Needed you?” Adam questioned through gritted teeth.

“Yes.” She paused. “Needed me.”

“What the fuck could he possibly need you for, living the life he fucking led?” Ace’s voice was hard, and I understood why. The history she had, her current position, was all because her fucking selfish bastard of a father put her here. She was lucky it was us who snatched her away. Others might not have been so caring, so delicate, so undeniably obsessed.

I looked over my shoulder at our Belle of the ball. She cleared her throat, her eyes darting every which way, reminding us we’d entered a room full of people and they were all staring. “You know, like entertaining sons, chatting with daughters. Simple stuff, really.”

“Simple until it wasn’t,” I spat, then took a deep breath, centering myself. “I believe it’s time for that grand stair entranceinto the ballroom, princess. Hold tight to our boys. I’d hate for a slip to happen.”

“She’d never fall,” Ace proclaimed fiercely.

I knew she wouldn’t. We were protective as fuck to things that were ours, and she belonged to us. I stepped down, taking in the melody of her heels as she followed me down the marble staircase flanked by Adam and Ace, followed by Drew. I knew she was safe, but I felt much better when my foot touched the ground on the main floor and the click of her heels followed.

As soon we touched down, the vultures all swooped in, nearly fighting to introduce themselves to Adam’s new wife, clearly seeing her clinging to Ace, but not verbally questioning it. It took nearly twenty minutes before we could guide her to the bar. Not like she’d be drinking, but I knew she’d be excited to see her best friend.

Somehow along the way, we lost Adam. True to his words, though, Ace refused to let go of her hand, clinging to her like their skin was fused together. A little more clever maneuvering landed us in front of the bar, lined with men in suits drooling over Hannah. I got it. She looked gorgeous. But nothing compared to Bellamy.

“Hannah!” Bellamy called, throwing her voice over the men.

Her friend’s head snapped in our direction, her face blank until she spotted us. Then a smile took over. She dropped the drink she was making, practically running toward us, while trying not to fall in a tight white angelic dress and heels that were a deadly height. Behind Bellamy, Drew cursed seeing her friend, even as he tried to cover it up with a cough.

I heard it.

I knew.

I guess us crime men were all the same deep down, always looking for the wholesome sweetness to make the bad rough parts of us worth it, worth loving.

Hannah had just reached us, pushing me out of the way so she could wrap her arms around Bellamy. Before she could pull away, some half-drunk asshole in line spouted off, “Hey, sweetheart. How about serving us our fucking drinks instead of socializing? You know, like you’re paid to do.”

Quicker than even I could react, Drew had stepped forward, his fingers gripping the lapel of the man’s tux. “You’re out of here. Don’t fucking come back to these premises.”

The man snorted, though I could tell he was afraid. “Whose fucking orders?”

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