Page 30 of Carry Your Debt

Studiously ignoringthe boogeymen still gathered near the stage, I’m carefully hunting for signs of the Rox Boys when Smiley O’Sullivan and the Reilly brothers once again steal my attention.

Considering the nature of tonight’s announcement, I’m expecting to find a renewed discord between the rival Mobs. But unlike the vast majority of guests around them, their smiles and postures appear relaxed and confident.

Entirely too unfazed for a group of Irishmen whose driving tenets have always beenmuintir ar dtús, muintir go deo. Family first, family forever.

That small, uncertain buzzing at the edge of my thoughts starts to grow in intensity. It’s not the usual information overload ache either; it’s the gnawing, gut feeling you get when you know you’ve missed something important.

I startle when Zeus’s hard bicep tucks me in against his side. With lips brushing my temple—hoping to be heard above the swell of the party—he directs my focus in the opposite direction. “Two o’clock, second alcove.”

My eyebrows jump, my mask sliding up a little with the movement.He spotted them before I did?

Before I get a chance to verify, he starts hustling us toward one of the alcoves that are tucked off the atrium’s eastern wall. Both Dionysus and Knox quickly fall into step around us.

“Jesus,” I mutter, trying not to break an ankle as he hauls me along like a man on a mission. I chose these heels for their height advantage, not agility. “Slow down, will you?”

“You want the Suits snatching up the Boys?”

“Of course not,” I huff as my bodice shifts, the boning pressing uncomfortably against my ribs. If he doesn’t slow the fuck down, I’m going to find a way to makehimspend twelve hours in this thing and see howhelikes it. “But you did find them?How?”

I’m choosing not to focus on the fact he seems to think they’re holed up in one of the private indulgence rooms.

What do I care if they’ve got two dozen Courtesans in there with them?

I’m not their keeper.

“Miller,” is all he says. He sounds like he’s grinding rocks between his teeth.

“Miller?” I ask, perplexed.

“You’ll see,” D sings.

“Okaaay,” I drawl, just as we reach the veil of crimson gossamer used to screen off the entrance to the alcove. “Should we maybe?—”

Without further preamble, Zeus shoves straight through the flimsy privacy drape, dragging me inside with a taut arm still wrapped around my torso like a bandoleer.

The noise from the main party drops away slightly, the ancient red bricks creating a natural sort of sound chamber for its occupants. The lighting in here is also significantly dimmer than the rest of the building; the deep, red hues lending a more debauched air to the small anteroom that normally only serves as a receiving area for the Court.

It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and then another for it to register that there are only the four Rox Boys in front of me, each posted up in a different corner of the room.

And not one of them is engaged in anything remotely illicit—unless, of course, you count Hermes’s outfit.

Dio presses up against my other side, covering up a groan by coughing into his fist. “See?”

AndSweet Lady Karma,do I.

I seesowell that I’m going to need to upgrade my earlier lingerie situation fromChance of Flash FloodingtoSearch and Rescue Operation—because I swear they just straight up floated out to sea.

Aside from a pair of decadently skin-tight, leather biker pants, the only thing Lake Miller is wearing is agodsforsakenwaist trainer.

Black velvet paneling, strips of intricate brocade framing the fasteners, and a smartly cut underbust.

No undershirt. No overcoat.

Just tailor-made sin that leaves the entire upper torso bare and sets the stage for those caramel button nipples of his to steal the show.

Boys in corsets?

My kryptonite.

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