Page 37 of Darkest Retribution

I loop my arm around Mike’s, giving him a squeeze. “I’m proud of you for showing up. I know it’s probably a lot.”

With a nod, Mike squares his shoulders. He looks at me, a teary smile on his face. “I think Marcie would be proud.”

“I think so too.”

For some reason, my mind flits to my mom. Would she be proud of me? She tried to protect me from my family’s business, but I ended up right in the middle of it after she passed—killing, intimidating, and doing whatever my father asked of me.

I don’t think she would’ve liked that. But I think she’d be proud of what I’m trying to do now.

As Mike and I walk into the club, I push the thoughts aside. A tear falls onto my cheek, and I wipe it away discreetly, cursing Dom for making me feel comfortable enough to bring back all these memories.

Thankfully, the party is a good enough distraction. Mike and I grab some food and head to a table with a few older couples already gathered there. Mike introduces me enthusiastically, calling me his friend, and I’m met with an array of uneasy glances.

“Friends?” one of the women says, looking me up and down.

“Platonicfriends,” I say with an indulging smile. “Mike isn’t my type, and he knows it.”

He throws his head back in a laugh. “Yes, yes,justfriends.”

The mood around the tables eases after that. Mike joins in the conversation—all about summer activities, how everyone’s kids are, who graduated, who’s starting college, etc. I listen, soaking up every detail. I’m getting paid ten thousand dollars just to sit here and smile, for fuck’s sake. I can put on a show.

After we finish our food, Mike surveys the room. “There are a few people I’d like to say hello to. Would you mind... ah, if you can. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

“I can stand for a while,” I say.And I’d much prefer to be with you than with all these strangers.

He ushers me around the room, stopping at the bar and getting us drinks. Once we’re both happily sipping champagne, he says, “Let’s go congratulate the happy couple, shall we?”

“Sure,” I say, following him toward the middle of the room.

“Garrett! Chelsea!” Mike waves his free hand through the air in a grand gesture, grinning as he surveys the man and woman in front of us. “Such a lovely couple, aren’t they, Jade?”

“Beautiful,” I say, and I mean it. They both look perfect. Almost too perfect, honestly.

“Thank you,” Chelsea says with a charming smile, reaching out her hand. “So nice to meet you. And Mike, I’m so glad you decided to come. We missed you over the summer.”

Mike’s grin fades, but only for a moment. “Glad to be here. Now, tell me everything. How did he propose? When’s the wedding? Any fun honeymoon plans?”

Garrett and Chelsea happily give all the details, including a summer afternoon, getting caught in the rain, and a surprise question popped in a gazebo. It sounds sweet, if a little basic, but to each their own.

Chelsea is in the middle of telling us her family’s reaction when a certain face catches my attention from across the room.

I take in his white button up shirt, his suit jacket probably discarded on the back of some chair. Disappointment hits me at the sight of his sleeves covering his arms, hiding his tattoos. But the feeling is instantly replaced with butterflies in my stomach when my gaze moves to his face. I’ve come to enjoy sneaking glances at his sharp jawline, light stubble, and powerful blue eyes.

But right now, there’s no sneaking. Because he’s already watching me.

From a man like Dominic Grayson, I’d expect a cool, even, and uninterested stare. But that’s not what I’m getting. No, he’s looking at me like you couldn’t pay him to stop, with lust and curiosity and a newfound depth that we both stumbled upon yesterday afternoon.

When Dominic’s gaze moves to Mike, his eyes narrow. Slowly, he moves the glass in his hand to his lips. When Mike pats my hand, which is still settled in the crook of his elbow, Dominic’s glare turns lethal.

Without so much as blinking, Dom starts making his way closer, like a predator who’s just laid eyes on his meal.

Oh, shit.

The darkness in his expression is one I’ve seen before. And I’m not about to be at the center of some jealousy-fueled pissing match, so I cut him a sharp glare before turning away.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get the message—or doesn’t fucking care. I feel his hand on my lower back within seconds. The light touch sends sparks flying underneath my skin, heading toward places they shouldn’t in a public area.

“Dominic!” Chelsea says, her voice too high-pitched and her smile nervous. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

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