Page 61 of Battle Lines

Amusement flickered through me again. I had to wonder if Julius King really understood that or not. Somehow… I had my doubts, but I couldn’t eliminate it entirely.

Oh.

Maybe we could usethatto our advantage.

I was still mulling that over when Wood pulled up to the front, and a footman opened my door.

Showtime.

ChapterTwenty-One

ADAM

The annual gala was a non-optional event for me, though I’d missed the previous year. My father took it as a silent protest of his marriage to Melissa. I didn’t really care about that. Melissa Benedict had been his mistress far longer than his wife. He treated her with a kind of casual disdain this evening. I doubted she was aware of it. If I were a betting man, he had a new mistress. Harper Reed was never one to deny himself.

I was half-tempted to see if I could figure out who it was, but only half. Frankly, I didn’t care. Whatever he did to Melissa—she deserved it. He’d kept her for years, so many years, while presenting the face of a doting husband in public where my mother was concerned. In private, he barely saw her and she always excused his choices.

He was busy.

He had work.

The business pulled him away.

It was the life they’d chosen.

I tossed back the full measure of Scotch the bartender served me. The ballroom was already alive with a few hundred guests. More continued to stream in. The Masquerade was always the event of the season. Everyone vied for invitations, they wanted to curry favor, carry on their assignations, and be noticed.

Noticed at an event where anonymity was far more highly prized. Amongst the glitter and glam, guests mingled, drank, and sampled the decadent treats and hors d'oeuvres being served. Others were dancing, while still more slipped away to the corners. I didn’t doubt that if I walked out to the garden, I’d find still more.

The maze would prove an attractive obstacle for those couples seeking to steal away for a little private time. The grand ballroom was richly appointed and opulent. It was all that shiny gold, the facade that deterred others from seeing the shadowy underbelly. My phone vibrated and I pulled it from the inner pocket.

Lainey had arrived.

I considered my empty glass then pushed it back for the bartender to deal with. I needed to move to a better position to keep an eye on the door. I’d tracked where my father and uncles were. My aunt Sable was in attendance. Melissa held court near the front of the room with a dozen women practically tripping over themselves to see the bejeweled mask she’d arrived in, along with its tiara.

As I moved, I checked on Andrea. I’d escorted her in, her swan outfit absolutely stunning. The mask was perfect. It hid her features without leaving her blinded. The dress was gorgeous in its simplicity and Lainey had apparently made sure it wasn’t too fashion-forward for our younger sister. My war against noticing puberty had arrived for her was a losing battle.

Now, I just had to make sure the boys left her alone. Though she had a boy she was currently chatting with, they weren’t alone. The table around her was full of her friends. I’d made sure to invite four or five others her age to be her companions. Harder to be under the sway of one when you had a table to entertain you. They did seem to be entertained.

Her smile said as much.

One of the footmen had taken a post near to her table. While he appeared to be decorative, he was there to do a job. One job.

Protect Andrea.

Satisfied, I made my way toward the entrance where more guests trickled in. A single male stepped inside. Dressed head to toe in unrelieved black, he even sported a full cloak. The hooded cloak drew my attention. That, and his pause at the top of the steps as he surveyed the room. His mask was flat, black and silver which hugged his face and left only his eyes visible.

I had no idea what he searched for, although he seemed to find it as he began his descent. Habit had me tracking the unnerving figure until a new movement at the doors drew my attention.

I didn’t have to be told it was her. She’d dressed in black and gold, her mask also done up perfectly to reflect the gold of a peacock. Her favorite bird—or they had been when she was younger. She loved the story of how the peacocks got their eyes. The gold brocade gown and the square neck emphasized her breasts. No one could miss those sweet, supple curves.

The man at her side was dressed in similar colors, though his jacket was far more refined than anything I could imagine Milo Hardigan owned. Emersyn could more than afford to provide for him, as could O’Connell, but he didn’t seem the type. I had to admit, the outfit suited him, as did the black mask with its hints of gold in the shape of a bird of prey.

Lainey and he stood for a moment. I rather suspected it wasn’t to survey the room as she leaned toward him to speak. Probably giving him a heads-up on what to expect. She was very protective of the man, and he of her.

Fuck, I hated him so much.

Even if I respected him—I hated him.

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