Page 62 of Lords of Ruin: Cherished

"Remember the plan," Damien murmurs, adjusting his tie. "Vincent creates the distraction, I lead Mr.Beaumont upstairs to discuss the 'private investment opportunity,' and you..."

"I keep Angie occupied and then lure her upstairs," I finish, straightening my tuxedo jacket. "Let's get this over with."

We weave through the crowd, pausing only when necessary to shake hands and exchange empty pleasantries. I play the part well, the charming Castillo heir with a dangerous glint in his eye. A woman in emerald silk brushes my arm, purring a greeting, but I barely spare her a glance. My mind is on keeping Willow safe, and thus killing Richard Beaumont.

We approach the group casually. Mr.Beaumont is mid-story, gesturing with his champagne flute. "So I told the investors, either get on board or get left behind!" The circle around him erupts in practiced laughter.

Vincent steps forward, glass in hand. "Father."

Mr.Beaumont flashes a wide smile, but his narrowed eyes give away that he wasn’t expecting Vincent and preferred for him not to be here.

“Son, I wasn’t expecting you,” he nods, lifting the champagne flute to his lips cautiously.

Vincent laughs an acceptable three times and winks at one of the wives next to him. “Well after you talked so much about the lovely Sophia Richards. I knew I had to come check out the event.”

Vincent’s father visibly relaxes, that wild smile spreading across his lips again. “She just went to the bathroom, should be back any minute now.”

“Lucky me,” Vincent smirks before turning to Damien and me. “Father, you remember Damien and Cast.”

We both step forward, our hands out with wide plastic smiles on our faces. “Hello Mr.Beaumont, it has been a long time.” Damien beams.

“Yes, too long.” I add as he shakes my hand and nods, appreciatively.

“Hello boys, nice to see what proud men you’ve grown into.”

“Yes indeed,” Angie purrs, her eyes locked on the tattoos peeking from underneath my crisp white button up, with no tie.

Vincent steps aside, allowing his father to take center stage, though it’s clear from the gleam in his eye that he’s enjoying the show. Mr. Beaumont studies us with careful scrutiny.

“Damien,” he says.“Still on the ice?”

Damien nods, his grin unwavering. “Of course, one of the best goalies in the college league right now.”

“ I better get those courtside tickets.” He jokes.

“Your name is already on it.” Damien nods, his smile so bright it looks like he cracked his face open. Mr. Beaumont hums in approval before turning to me. “And you, Cast? Still raising hell, I assume?”

I offer a slow smile, letting my tongue caress every word.“Only when necessary.”

Angie shifts closer, the scent of her expensive perfume curling around me. “Necessary, hmm?” She tilts her head, her red-painted nails brushing against my sleeve, barely grazing the ink beneath. “I’ve always appreciated a man who knows when to be bad.”

Vincent chuckles, sipping from his glass. “Careful, Angie. He bites.”

She drags her gaze back up to mine, a slow, knowing smirk on her lips. “Lucky me.”

Mr. Beaumont clears his throat. “Angie,” he says. “This is our son's friend, not a random boy toy.”

“My mistake. You know how excited I can get sometimes.” She smiles.

My skin crawls but I continue with the plan anyway. “You can’t have me for the night, but how about a dance?”

Her gaze sweeps over me, assessing, before she smiles. “I guess I can agree to thatfor now.”

I have to swallow down the shiver of disgust as I offer my hand, and she takes it. We step onto the dance floor just as Sophia Richards, a lifelong friend of Vincent’s walks over with a million dollar smile. I don’t hear what she says, but I know it’s enough to hook his father into a conversation.

I pull Angie close, guiding her with smooth precision. She smells like bitter cherries and bergamot, two smells that should never go together.

“You’re quite the dancer,” she says, voice sultry.

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