“You will take me.”
“And me,” Sully interjects.
“All right. Anyone who wants to come with me can come. Okay? Yes.”
The promise is barely past her lips before Bolan is surging up, flipping her over his shoulder, and striding toward the door that leads to the connecting conference room.
“That room isn’t soundproof,” I say.
Bolan whirls around, surveying the office — and almost clipping Mirth’s forehead on the side of the bookshelves in the process.
She squeals, pummeling him with her fists. “Bolan! I can barely breathe!”
The rock star homes in on the other all-but-hidden door between the built-in bookshelves, striding toward it instead. The bathroom. He flings open the door with Mirth still huffing in protest over his shoulder. Then he strides in without turning on the light. Just kicking the door shut behind him and once again owning everything and everyone around him.
All the energy drains from the room.
Sully and I just stare blankly at the closed door.
I’m not certain if I want an invitation to watch, or to participate — or if I just wish Bolan hadn’t felt the need to cart Mirth away.
“Dibs,” Sully mutters, running a hand through his hair so that it sticks up at all sorts of adorable angles. Then he pivots and flings himself into the chair across from my desk, clearly defining the parameters of our conversation. “Plus, you know, he’s not as much of an asshole as he seems.”
I step around my desk, sitting down in my chair. “He is just as much of an asshole. But … he’s our asshole.”
Sully flicks his gray eyes up to meet mine. Then he nods, almost curtly. “Yeah.”
“Tell me about Rian.”
Sully looks away, over my shoulder and out the windows. “I might have overreacted.”
“I doubt it.”
He blinks, surprised.
“Why did you decide to go to Dublin? Shouldn’t Rian be overseeing the transport of Perseus to London? There’s a major qualifying race on Thursday.” Perseus, Armin’s ridiculously expensive prize stallion, was a late addition to the schedule at Regal Park Racecourse. “I believe this race is one of the last chances to qualify for this season. Unless Mirth wants to race Perseus overseas.”
Sully shifts in his chair. He’s rumpling his suit, but I already know he doesn’t care. “Rian’s mother is in Dublin.”
I nod, already knowing this part. The connection between Bolan and Rian was annoyingly shocking news, but I’ve done my due diligence since hearing it.
“I thought Rian might need support. I thought that was … something I should do. You know, as Lord Savoy.” He clears his throat, still not looking directly at me. “Bolan went home as well. For a chat with Adeline.”
Ah. “How did that go?”
“Ask Bolan.” Sully sighs, softening his tone. “Not well, I surmise. But I was being a close-mouthed, pissy asshole about my own shit, so I didn’t really ask why.”
“Is Rian … reluctant?”
Sully swallows harshly, then whispers throatily, “Not about Mirth.”
I settle back in my chair, disappointment making me pause.
“Yeah,” Sully says. “That. Maybe it’s just me that he —”
“I doubt it,” I snap, halting that train of thought.
“No. You’re right. He doesn’t want to share.”
