Page 108 of Covenant

I tug at the neck of my shirt self-consciously. “Jesus, Matt. Could you have given me a heads-up?”

“What?” He glances over his shoulder, noticing how I’m fidgeting. “You look fine, Wy.”

“Fine?” I hiss. “I wear these sneakers to garden for fuck’s sake.”

Matt turns with a sigh and comes to wrap his arms around me. “Mm, yes, but you’re gorgeous, so I don’t know why you’re upset.”

My cheeks redden. They always do when he compliments me. “I’m not. Stop it.”

He kisses one of my cheeks. “But you are. You’re. So. Hot.” His lips move to the other cheek. “And beautiful.” His mouth meets mine. “And so fucking sexy that I’m thinking of taking you back home right now.”

From the bulge now pressing against his, that’s an idea I can get on board with.

“Stop fucking canoodling.” I’m not sure which brother bellows or where in the house he is, but apparently, they all know what we’re up to. “Monopoly waits for no man. Or fuck. Really, it waits for no one and no thing.”

Matthias leans his forehead against mine and groans. “Remember, whatever happens tonight, you’re legally tied to me until March.”

Another brother hollers his name, and he turns to walk toward them.

Me, though? I’m frozen. Matthias’s final word makes my feet sprout roots that tunnel deep underground.

March.

Fuck. Normally it’s me reminding Matt that we have an end date, that we can’t muddle what we have with emotions.

Hearing him say it?

I don’t fucking like it.

I don’t like it one bit.

Question is, what am I going to do about it?

24

WYATT

Matthias is all the way to the door at the far end of the room before he realizes I’m not behind him. He halts and looks back at me, concern lining his face. “Wy? You coming?”

I nod, dragging my feet forward. The roots of my past fighting me, dragging me back to where I was when Matthias found me.

No. I won’t let that happen. I was strong before Matthias, I can be strong without him again too.

A wave of noise hits us as we step inside a large, dimly lit room. There’s a wide poker table in the center, a hanging light just above it. Cigars burn in ashtrays, and glasses of whiskey litter every surface. For a moment, I wonder if we’ve stepped back in time into some old-fashioned movie.

Chairs are scraped back as various siblings pull Matthias into crushing hug after crushing hug. My brows shoot up at how warmly they greet each other. It’s miles away from how they interacted at the gala.

Guess this is what Matt meant by public versus private personas. Maybe rich people are required to pretend they don’t have strong familial ties in public. Makes no sense to me, but I’ve never been this rich. Even the lump sums chilling in my accounts have nothing on the scope of what the men in this room command.

Something in me eases when I realize at least half of them are dressed in sweats and t-shirts. Only Wylder and Dalton are dressed more formally, opting for button-downs like Matthias.

My gaze sweeps over them and I realize Harley is missing. That’s a shame. Given how often he invites himself to breakfast at ours…I mean, Matt’s, I’ve become close to him. I’d been looking forward to seeing him here.

Wylder greets me first, his smile welcoming as he shakes my hand. “Great to see you again, Wyatt.”

Samson is next. There’s no smile from him, just a scowl. I’m not offended. From the little Matthias has told me, and what I experienced at the gala, this is his go-to mood. “The iron is mine. You can’t have it.”

I blink up at him, waiting for his odd statement to register. Oh, right. Monopoly. I played with Jackson a few times when he was younger, but neither of us particularly cared about which pieces we used.

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