IRIS
“E veryone, please put your hands together for the future Mr. and Mrs.
Kane.”
My eyes widen at the DJ’s announcement.
So this is how we’re going to do it? Just like that?
You’re the one who planned it that way. I mentally kick myself for the obnoxious engagement party. If I had known I would be the one at the center of everyone’s attention, I would have gone with a simple social media announcement.
My knees wobble as I scan the audience. I straighten my legs together to stop myself from falling over. The number of designer clothes all packed into one room is ungodly, and the fake smiles on their faces have my skin itching.
Declan’s eyes collide with mine. It’s reflexive at this point, with a single look sharing a hundred words.
“Deep breath.” He grabs my left hand, and the heat of his palm seeps into my skin. It’s unsettling how he can tell I’m anxious without me ever expressing it.
You’ve been working for him for three years. Of course he can tell when you’re nervous.
“Iris and I are getting married at the end of the month.”
The end of the month? That’s in two weeks!
The music stops. Someone coughs. A waiter drops their tray.
We’re surrounded by an array of reactions, each one more shocked than the next. I don’t blame them. I thought Declan and I had a month to sort out our engagement, but now we only have two weeks.
The silence is deafening. My stomach threatens to dump its contents on the shiny marble floor, but somehow, I swallow back the acid crawling up my throat.
You got this.
“Surprise!” I beam, hoping to counteract Declan’s less than exciting display. I rip my hand out of his and throw it up so everyone can see my engagement ring. A million colors bounce off the diamond, drawing everyone’s attention toward the symbol of my impending doom.
“Welcome to the family, Iris.” Rowan, Declan’s youngest brother steps out from the crowd. While most people think he looks like Declan with his brown hair and dark gaze, I find them distinctly different. Because where Rowan has some hints of humanity peeking through, Declan lacks the same compassion.
Cal breaks through the crowd and raises his drink in the air. “Family therapy is on Thursday nights. Don’t be late!”
A few people laugh, and somehow the tension eases enough to make breathing bearable again.
“One hour and we’re leaving,” Declan huffs under his breath, low so only I can hear him.
“I was going to suggest thirty minutes, but if you insist.”
He doesn’t smile, but his eyes light up as they land on me. His chuff of air is practically a belly laugh. We both know we will never make it out of here in half an hour. Not when Declan is the first Kane to get married since Seth over thirty years ago. This kind of announcement is right up there with the prince of England having a child, and everyone is going to want a few minutes with him.
Whatever response Declan has is snuffed out as his father, Seth Kane, parts the crowd like Moses. The intensity of his displeasure could make a lesser man crumble to his knees.
Mine lock into place. I’ve spent enough time around him to learn he feeds off people’s weaknesses.
Declan feigns indifference except for the tiny tic in his jaw. He’s a master of hiding his emotions, but every now and then, one appears. A small clench of his jaw. The quick flex of his hand. A narrowing of his eyes before returning to his cool gaze.
“Relax.” I lean into him and rub my hand over his pounding heart.
You’re not the only one who is nervous. Looks like Declan is more human than I thought.
“Son.” Seth doesn’t bother acknowledging my presence, as per usual.
Since I serve no purpose for him, I cease to exist. Simple as that.
“Father.” Declan tips his chin.
They both look eerily similar with their brown hair and empty, dark stares. But that’s where their likeness ends. I’m sure Seth was handsome at one point in his life, but his misuse of alcohol has aged him in a way that Botox can’t fix.
“I figure some congratulations are in order.” Seth smiles at me for the first time ever. The fakeness pouring off him makes me nauseous. “My son is lucky to have you in his life.”
Yeah, right. The man knows nothing about me. Even after three years, he still calls me Irene whenever he needs to get patched through to Declan’s phone line.
“Save your display for the cameras.” Declan wraps his arm around me.
While his gesture comes off robotic, I appreciate his ability to try to make this look legitimate. Try being the key word. He’s stiffer than my nana’s cocktails, and those suckers can get anyone drunk from a single cup.