Page 109 of Morally Black Betrothal
“That,” I growled, “is none of your fuckin’ business.”
Ronan wheezed under the hand around his throat. And then he smiled. The sick fuck.
I released him and calmly picked both our glasses off the rug. The housekeeper had her work cut out for her tomorrow. Then again, this wasn’t exactly unusual in this place.
When I sat back in my chair as if nothing had happened, both my brothers were watching me. Reading me.
Seeing right through me.
“You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?” Owen asked.
Ronan’s eyes popped open. “Bren, you didn’t tell us you’re a virgin bride. Don’t worry, it only hurts the first time.”
I went to the bar cart for another drink, if only to give myself something to do other than let their bullshit get to me more than it already had. I’d anticipated the lies to the press. I just hadn’t anticipated this particular lie to my brothers. Especially when I really,reallywanted it to be true.
I was fucked.
I poured myself a double scotch this time. Tonight, it seemed necessary, despite cloning Dad’s nightly order. “I’m not a monk, you fuckin’ voyeurs. Of course we’ve slept together.” And then, somehow, with a lot less effort and a lot more enthusiasm: “She’s amazing.”
The only thing I’d said so far that was true.
“I bet. Those split ends and tennis shoes are amazing too,” Ronan commented with a chuckle.
I whirled around. “Shut up.”
“I bet it’s like a handful of straw when you’re pulling her hair.”
“Do you want to get throttled again?”
Ronan had the good sense not to continue talking.
But Owen wasn’t done. “He has a point. She’s pretty fucking basic.”
“You mean she’s not a spoiled brat like the ones you prefer?”
“Get your head out of your ass, Brendan. This company invests in the luxury markets. How do you think she is going to fit into that when she shows up in the papers accepting your ring looking like she just got back from Walmart?”
Ronan appeared to consider. “I think the kids call it normcore. Maybe she’ll take that to the luxury markets too.”
“Whatever. Ivy Ink is going to have a field day no matter what.”
I wanted to punch them both.
But the worst part was, they were right. It was why I’d asked Ruth to set Simone up with a schedule to get her ready for future publicity and even just engaging with my family members, as judgmental as they were. Something in my gut twisted at the idea of anyone changing a single hair on her head, but she wasn’t prepared for living under this kind of microscope. Everyone in the world was as ruthless as my brothers. Maybe even worse.
Meanwhile, I’d gotten ahead of myself with the kiss in my office, when she’d shown up looking like any other girl off the street (and inexplicably seemed more valuable than anything I’d ever seen in my life). The whole thing was supposed to be for publicity, and from the start, I’d set us back by being impulsive.
I was never impulsive. Ever.
“You are both complete and utter pricks,” was all I could come up with. “Give her time. She’ll fit in.”
“Like a knock-off spelled P-A-R-D-A,” Ronan agreed. “Who cares if the R is in the wrong place, right? No one will notice anything off about Simone either.”
“Off how?”
The three of us swiveled at the sound of Simone’s high, sweet voice. She stood in the entrance wearing a knee-length dress made of black silk embroidered with green leaves and black shoes with small heels that made her legs look even longer than usual. Even I could tell that nothing she was wearing was new—the shoes were slightly creased over the toes, and the dress bore signs of minor wear on the collar and sleeves. But despite being obviously secondhand, everything fit her perfectly. She looked chic and impossibly beautiful.
Her makeup, however, was threatening to smudge, if the sheen in her eyes and ashen complexion were any indication.
