Page 32 of Trust in the Fallen

The idea definitely has merit, but he and I both know I don’t have that kind of choice. He and my parents have made sure I’m trapped. I didn’t really think of it that way until the night I spent free, but they’ve done everything they could to make sure there’s no way I can survive on my own, right down to only letting me intern at places they vetted, which means I have no references that aren’t connected to them. And then they didn’t allow me to work, which given how competitive the industry is, almost makes my degree obsolete.

The terms of my trust fund were changed around the same time our parents agreed to our marriage, meaning I won’t see a cent of it until I have a ring on my finger, and I’m sure somewhere there’s a clause stating I have to marry someone they see fit, not that I’ve bothered looking into it. Because what’s the point?

Jason pulls my chair out for me and smiles down at me as I take the seat, but his gaze is anything but warm. This act isn’t for my benefit, it’s for all the people around us. The ballroom is crawling with politicians and potential contacts, and he wants to make them all think he’s a gentleman.

And I’m sure they’ll all believe he is. But they can’t see the bruising under my makeup, and how swollen my ankle is already after only being in these heels for an hour. They don’t know that he’s been ignoring me all week, that the first words he’s spoken to me since he hit me was to warn me to be on my best behavior.

I’ve never once done anything but exactly what I’ve been told my whole life.

I take a sip of champagne and relish in the bubbles filling my mouth. I don’t tend to drink much, but these events always make me want to feel numb. Everyone that comes to these things does so with false pretenses. They’re not here to help people—that’s just a farce, an excuse for a party and an open bar, but they almost always have an ulterior motive.

Jason’s hand holds my thigh in a tight grip, and I drain the glass to help me swallow down the nausea his touch brings. He’s talking to his father on the other side of him, something about stocks and what they’re expecting from the next twelve months of rise and falls. I’m sure I’ll hear some variation of this same thing no less than twenty times tonight, which means I’ll need to keep the champagne coming.

“Oh good, you made it.” Jason’s father, Governor James Collins, beams at the two men approaching the table, and when I follow his gaze, I choke on the bubbles, suddenly regretting drinking so much all at once.

Across the table from me stand Wyatt and Elias, each looking utterly breathtaking in their perfectly fitted suits. Is it legal to look that freaking delicious with clothes on? Surely it’s not.

They make no attempt to hide their amusement at my surprise, or even to disguise that they know me. My stomach drops at that thought because if Jason can put the pieces of last weekend together, I can’t imagine what will be waiting for me when we get home.

I shake my head slightly, hoping like hell they’re not about to blow my entire life apart with just a few words, but that only seems to make Wyatt’s smile grow.

Elias shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the back of the chair directly across from me before rolling his sleeves up his forearms.

I can’t tear my eyes off the coiled muscles flexing with each move he makes, and I realize they’re not the only ones who could reveal what happened last weekend. I’m just as likely with my own reactions.

“Thank you for the invite.” Elias smiles, dragging his attention off me for long enough to look at my future father-in-law. “I’m sorry our RSVP was so late. Our assistant put the invitation on my desk which I promptly buried. I’m sure you know how it is.” He chuckles.

“I certainly do.” James turns to his son who looks almost as surprised as I am to see the two of them, and that makes my stomach sink painfully. “Son, this is Elias Ford and Wyatt Keller. They own quite a few businesses throughout the city.” He turns back to the newcomers who have now taken their seats and smiles. “This is my son, Jason, and his lovely fiancée, Leighton.”

Jason opens his mouth to say something, probably to pretend he’s never met the two of them in his life, but Wyatt has other ideas. “We’ve actually met. Jason here was a member of one of our clubs until recently.”

I choke on the last sip of champagne in my glass and barely stop myself from spitting it across the table.

Why are they doing this? Are they angry I left without saying goodbye? What did they expect? That I would stick around for an awkward morning and for them to eventually tell me I’d overstayed my welcome? I don’t think so.

“Oh fantastic.” James claps his hands together.

Just in time, a waiter stops by the table and takes my empty glass, leaving a fresh one behind which I immediately bring to my lips. I have a feeling I’m going to need a whole lot of these tonight.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

WYATT

Iwasn’t sure how I was going to react to seeing Leighton again after she snuck out on us last weekend. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pissed that she would leave with nothing more than a note to say she had a great night, but when I saw her across the room with her asshole fiancé’s hands on her, all that fell away. All that was left was the need to get her away from him and back where she belongs. With us.

I slip my jacket down my arms and rest it on the back of my seat the same way Elias did before sitting down right across from my angel.

Her eyes are wide and the edge of fear dancing in them only makes me want to kill the motherfucker next to her more. It’s not us she’s afraid of. She knows we would never hurt her, but I don’t think the same can be said for Jason.

The footage of him yanking her into the house last weekend plays on repeat over and over again in my mind. It’s all I’ve been able to think about. Did he hurt her? Was that as rough as he got that day? Or was there more we didn’t see behind closed doors?

“How’s business going, gentlemen?” James asks, his gray hair clipped shorter on the sides and deep-brown eyes almost giving the illusion of caring. But we all know he couldn’t give two shits about us and our business. The only reason he bothers with us is because we are so closely linked with the Legion, and that’s of benefit to him. Too bad Crew wouldn’t be seen dead getting into bed with the likes of this asshole.

“Very well. We’re seeing more and more traffic through our establishments and thankfully not feeling any of the hurt some are feeling,” Elias answers as vaguely as he can manage. James isn’t the kind of guy who asks about business unless he’s fishing for something. Most wouldn’t be able to see it as anything apart from him making small talk, but when you’ve been in this game for as long as we have, you learn a thing or two about your opponents.

“That’s great news. There are many people in the city hurting.” He gestures around at the ballroom, as if the show of wealth and power being exhibited tonight shows anything other than their own selfish need to appear giving.

I glance at Leighton as she finishes another glass of champagne, but she avoids looking anywhere near either of us as her gaze flits around the room. The carefully placed smile on her face is forced, but I wonder if anyone else at this table can see that, or if Elias and I got to know her better in one night than any of these assholes have in the years they’ve known her.

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