“Wes will kill you if you touch her!” Pyro shouts after us, but I just roll my eyes. All of us are incredibly possessive men when it comes to our women, and I have no intention of taking what Wes has deemed his. If the little bite marks on her neck that peek out from under her hair are any indication, he’s claimed her.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says over the music with more of an attitude than I thought she’d have. Although, she did just catch me staring at her neck. “But I’m not like that. I don’t just find a random guy and fuck him for a one-night stand. Wes and I have known each other from when we were kids.”
“Greg told me,” I tell her. “Not that I would care or judge you for it. I’ve gone a bit wild lately myself in that department,” I admit. Ever since my family told me I was getting married off as a way to unite my family with another, I’ve been rebelling a bit, fucking anything that looks in my direction, men or women.
Sometimes both at the same time, I think to myself as I smile, remembering that kink club Pyro took me to a few weeks ago.
“I just don’t want Jack worrying that Quinlan is going to murder him,” she says. She’s laughing, but there’s something else there that makes me think she’s worried about something. She looks like she’s about to jump ship and swim back to shore. “I’ll explain to her what’s going on.”
“Jack would appreciate it, I’m sure.” I smile down at her and throw my arm around her shoulders. “You look worried. You and Wessy have a fight?” I tease.
“I’m sure he loves that nickname,” she says, trying to look lighthearted.
“Oh, he does,” I assure her, nodding and giving her hair a tug. “Come on, what’s up? Do I need to beat the shit out of Wes? Was he too rough?” We always give Jack shit for his tastes in the bedroom, but Wes can be just as bad, sometimes worse, if he finds something he really wants. The guy loves to mark his prey.
“I don’t know,” she sighs, continuing to look around the dance floor. “I’m just a bit worried that Wes may think this is a bit more than I’m able to give him.”
I spot Wes on the other side of the deck, just getting to the top of the stairs and looking around. Raising my arm in the air, I eventually grab his attention, and his eyes immediately zone in on where his girl and I are connected.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, remembering I still haven’t introduced myself.
“Zo?,” she says, ignoring Wes’s stormy face as he stomps over to us.
“Zo?, I’m Owen. It was really nice to meet you, and before he comes over here and physically rips you out from under me, I just want you to realize that you said he wants what you can’t give him, not what you don’t want to give him. So, maybe think about that before you turn him down, yeah?”
Wes makes it over to us and pushes my arm off her shoulders. She groans, throwing her head back in frustration as he pulls her into his side. I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender.
“Not making moves on her, Wessy,” I tell him. “I was just helping her figure out where you took off to.”
“Wanna dance?” he asks her, wagging his eyebrows and making her laugh. She’s gorgeous, and I can see why Wes has held a torch for her all these years. He claps me on the shoulder and then drags her onto the dance floor.
I watch them go, my good mood almost instantly dissolving. I liked the so-called charmed life I was dealt, but this arranged-marriage announcement has me wanting to stay in Greece, hiding out and never going back.
I make my way back over to the bar and order a double. Once this weekend is over, I have to travel to Italy to meet her and…marry her. I don’t even know what she looks like or her name.
I down the drink and motion for another.
“And you’re drinking like a moody bastard because?” Jack asks, coming up to my side.
“Long story,” I sigh, turning my attention back to the dance floor, watching everyone chat and dance, huge smiles on their faces. “Family is arranging a marriage,” I tell him when I realize he isn’t going to go away.
“Knew you were in the fucking mafia,” he says, laughing and taking a sip from his beer. I roll my eyes. “You can’t say no?”
“Nope,” I answer, popping the p and relishing in the smooth burn of the second bourbon. It’s finally starting to go to my head, helping me forget for a moment just how fucking shitty the situation is.