Page 37 of Bound By Ruin

Let’s see how well this bartender can be bought off.

He stares at the cash for a second before slipping it into the breast pocket of his vest. “There’s nothing more to say. She is an esteemed guest for tonight, much like yourself.”

The other man slides the bartender a fifty-dollar bill this time. “Bullshit. You know everyone here, Gustav. I know you have some dirt on her pretty little nose.”

Gustav the bartender keeps a straight face. “Miss Monrovia is a lovely woman whose charitable contributions over the past decade have helped fund many campaigns. There is no ‘dirt’ on her nose or elsewhere.”

While the two men talk, I shuffle through the gust list in my mind, narrowing down this particular guest’s name within a few seconds. Mike Smith, a boring name for a boring man. I down the rest of my drink and slide the glass toward Gustav. Although he’s deflecting Mike’s questions well, I’d prefer he not say anything at all when it comes to Celia or the other members of my family. I count out a crisp wad of hundred-dollar bills from one of the money clips I had prepared for the evening. Ten should do it. Standing from my seat, I slide the money into Gustav’s vest pocket and pat his chest. “Keep her name off your lips for the next week. Ensure that the rest of the staff does the same, and I’ll donate tonight’s earnings to the tip jar.”

With a nod, Gustav refills my glass. “You’ve got it, boss.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The man sitting beside me quickly stands, matching my height but not my intensity. “I’m a chairman on this board. I can have you removed from the premises in a heartbeat.”

I smile, ensuring to show all of my teeth. “You can try, Mr. Smith, but you know as well as I do that it’s a bad idea. I’d hate to show your wife how little authority you have as chairman. It might make her reconsider blowing your tiny dick in the bathroom during intermission. I’ve heard she’s a real good cocksucker. Hate for you to miss it.”

Mike Smith’s face burns bright red. “What the fuck did you just say about my wife?”

“Only the truth. I have on good authority that she gives a wicked blow job.”

He swings a punch that I catch in my fist. “Careful. Breaking hands is a favorite hobby of mine.” I squeeze until the man chokes on a squeal. With everything that’s been happening lately, I haven’t gotten to break any bones. It might do me some good to relieve a little stress on a piece of shit like this.

“Okay, okay! I’ll back off!”

What I hate more than anything is a bastard who won’t defend his family’s honor. “I just called your wife a cocksucker,” I snarl, “and you throwonepunch? Does she mean so little to you?” Slamming his fist onto the counter, I press down hard until his fingers flatten. “Fuckingweak.” I down the rest of my drink before smashing the solid base of my glass into his knuckles, the sickeningcrackof bone music to my ears. He screams as I pound the glass into his flesh, destroying his hand.

Piece of shit husband.

Once I’m satisfied that he’ll never be able to grab his dick again, I lean over the counter and drop the bloodied glassware into the sink. “Sorry about the mess,” I tell Gustav sincerely. “How much do I owe you?”

Mike Smith has gone pale, the shock over his disfigured hand likely going to his head. I reach into his pocket and produce his wallet, counting the cash inside and handing it all to Gustav. Adding another five hundred from my money clip, I nod. “Don’t forget, now. No one says her name.”

By the time I’ve washed the blood from my hands and returned to the ballroom, the cocktails are flowing and the first round of gambling has begun. I missed the introductory speech, but I don’t much care for them, anyway, so it’s no loss. As I scan the room for Celia, Thanatos weaves through the crowd toward me.

“Should have worn the jacket,” I tell him, glancing at his outfit. Rebel can get away with the button up and slacks look, but wearing only a vest and tie? “You look like a server.”

“I look like a bouncer,” he counters, broadening his stance and clasping his hands in front of him.

“You’re not wearing all black. Bouncers wear black.”

“I could be undercover.”

“You’re not. Not for them, anyway.”

“They don’t know that.” He frowns as the guests avoid coming near us, likely sensing the tension rolling off of my older brother in waves. “She seems like she’s having a good time.”

I glance across the room to find Celia sitting in Rebel’s lap. My younger brother presses a kiss to her neck, and a wave of jealousy flares hot inside my chest. I’ll have my turn with her tonight, but taking turns is getting old. I’d much rather we all surround her at once to keep the real vultures at bay. I spot them easily, the men searching for someone to take home tonight. A few women, too, from the looks of it. But Rebel is doing a good job of making sure that Celia appears taken.

In hindsight, I should have given her a diamond ring to wear for the evening.

Or forever.

“Yeah, she does.” I watch our woman for only a few seconds before tearing my gaze away to check the rest of the room for my youngest brother. I haven’t seen Ruin since we first arrived. All it took were a few stares from arriving guests for him to bolt, disappearing before more could gawk at his facial scars. Hesaysthat he doesn’t care what people think, yet he still runs away at the first provocation.

Despite knowing this, I refused to let him bring a mask. What will it say to Celia if she loves him and he never learns to love himself? That she loves something damaged and broken?

I scoff aloud and cross my arms over my chest. There’s nothing broken about my brother, and he damn well needs to learn that fact.

It took at least an hour for him to stop gnashing his teeth about walking in here bare-faced. I imagine that he’s still brewing somewhere out of sight. “Where is he hiding?” I wonder aloud, scanning the room. “Have you seen him?”

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