Page 71 of You Don’t Kiss Your Brother's Best Friends

On paper, it was a recipe for mass fuckery and chaos.

Some of the men — the smart ones anyway — were wise enough to remain in control. Roman’s crew remained especially conservative. They huddled around the smattering of chest-high tables and drank very little. More often than not, I was bringing them a round of soft drinks, or water.

Every time I returned to the kitchen, I would touch base with one or more of the boys. Andre dragged me into an empty hallway, and shoved me against the wall. For two very hot minutes, we kissed so much we lost our breath. Kayden snuck another kiss while handing me a tray of cheese croquettes, while Bishop pressed up against me from behind. As his hands slid over my ass, it sent shockwaves of heat throughout my entire body. I couldn’t help remembering their touch, and recalling how it felt to be sandwiched between them. And especially, how very fucking much I wanted it again.

Whatever they were planning was still on, but I learned it would most likely take place after the dinner service. As stressful as it was, I had to admit it was a little thrilling, living in constant danger. We were surrounded by armed men, professional killers, and even some people who’d done terrible things. I’d come to Greece expecting forgetfulness and relaxation, and instead I was caught in a revenge plot, serving food and drinks to some of the most deadly men on the planet. When you really thought about it, I ought to be terrified. But between Kayden and Bishop, and now Andre? Somehow I felt protected, and knew in my heart that everything would be okay.

As the cocktail portion of the evening dragged into its second hour, my anticipation grew. I kept up my banter with Bruschetta Joe, to take the edge off my nervousness, until he’d become so busy he could barely speak. I spent some time watching out for Dorothea too, while avoiding Raif, looking out for trouble, and listening in on every conversation I could.

Everything was going great, in fact, until I was on the far side of the ballroom.

That’s when a hand clamped over my wrist, pulled violently, and dragged me away.

~ 42 ~

JOCELYN

I barely had time to even cry out. One second I was returning an empty tray to the bar, the next I was being pulled through the doorway and onto the back terrace.

“I—”

Whatever I might’ve said was lost against the clang of the metal platter hitting the pavers. The door slammed closed. Pain, burning hot, flared in my wrist.

“Where is he?”

It was cold outside, especially in the growing shadow of the enormous house. When I saw who had me, the chill only deepened.

“Where’s who?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Emily!” The expression on Victor Knox’s face was outright deadly. “Where’s Foley?”

“Sleeping it off,” I answered smoothly.

He growled like a bear. “Sleeping what off?”

“Oh, right,” I smirked, immediately going on the offense. “Don’t pretend you don’t even know. You were the one who dragged me out there, threw me to the wolves. You’re just lucky I was into it.”

Beneath his darkening scowl, I could see him studying me for any trace of falsehood.

“How’d you know, by the way?” I asked sweetly.

“Know what?”

“That I’d even be into it.”

Victor frowned. Beneath it, he looked somewhat uncomfortable.

“I was, of course. But you didn’t know, and you brought me out there anyway.” I set my hands on my hips. “You really could’ve asked.”

“Foley wanted you,” Victor said simply. “He’d been asking about you all last night.”

“Why didn’t he make a move, then?” I asked. “Why send you?”

“He didn’t. I was only doing him a favor.”

I could only imagine the ‘favors’ these men had been using as currency, within their closed little circle. Just thinking about it made me sick.

“And he’s still not up yet?” I prodded, playing dumb.

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