Page 63 of Ruthless Knight

Jericho and I stride into the grand hall of the Astoria, joining the other formally dressed guests who are here for my grandparents’ anniversary party.

In the far corner of the hall, my father stands with his arm around Sloane, Bastian’s mother. Bastian is with them, along with this week’s side piece attached to his arm.

My father notices me first, and his face becomes infused with stone, his eyes brimming with the warning of our last encounter. Bastian looks across at me, too.

They were told today that I’ve been preliminarily selected for the CEO position of the Park Avenue branch. That’s why they’re looking at me with a myriad of emotions engraved on their faces. Rage. Fury. Wrath. And so much more. They’re all there with front row seats, witnessing our rivalry.

I look away. Father and Bastian can’t do shit to me. At least not tonight.

Tonight, I’m still the untouchable winner.

Jericho and I spot our grandparents by the chocolate fondue fountain.

Grandma is laughing at something my grandfather is saying. Like always, he has some joke to tell her. He’s confessed on many occasions that his favorite thing is hearing her laugh.

Both are dressed in black, but my grandmother’s strapless gown has silver trimmings around the hem the same color as her hair.

We make our way over.

I have my own agenda for tonight in releasing the official details of my engagement, but the fifty years my grandparents have spent together is a sentiment I celebrate too. I’m happy to have them still together, still as healthy as they were twenty years ago, and still alive in love.

Grandma spots us first and clasps her hands for her habitual swoon. “Look at you boys in your suits. You look so handsome.”

“You look beautiful, Grandma,” I tell her.

“Thank you, my love. I do my best.” She laughs heartily and makes a show of twirling around.

“Yes, you do.”

“And you, but you’re still my sweet,cutelittle boys.”

Neither of us corrects her. We haven’t been cute or sweet in such a long time, the years that we were don’t count anymore.

Especially now. My grandmother would probably have a heart attack if she knew I was forcing Aurora to marry me. She knows about the engagement, but she thinks it’s real.

Grandma reaches up and tries to touch Jericho’s cheeks. Another habit of hers. Jericho had chubby cheeks when he was little that Grandma adored. As she’s a short little thing, even in her heels, Jericho indulges her by leaning forward to meet her more than halfway.

“Always, Grandma.” Jericho humors her with one of his faux angelic smiles he usually reserves for her. Apart from our mother, Grandma is the only other woman in our lives who gets to see such niceties.

“Aww.” She continues doting on him by patting his cheeks, then she moves to me. I dip my head, so she can plant a kiss on my forehead.

“Happy anniversary,” I tell them both when I straighten.

“Thank you, my boy.” Grandfather smiles and holds out his hand to shake mine.

“And may you have another fifty more years together,” Jericho adds, his gaze focused and expression relaxed. It’s his meaningful face. The one we see when he’s showing us the real him.

While Grandma looks like she’s about to burst into tears of happiness, Grandfather rests a hand on his shoulder.

“I appreciate that, son.”

“I know.”

“So, where is your beautiful bride-to-be?” Grandma bubbles, looking at me. “I’m dying to meet her.”

“She’s on her way.”

Aurora should be here very soon. Jericho and I had a meeting that ran over. I wouldn’t have had time to go home, so we came straight here from the office.

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