Page 79 of Chains of Recompense
Everyone who’s anyone will be in attendance—which is exactly why my brothers and I have to make an appearance.
I step out first, turning back to offer Aisling my hand. She takes it without hesitation, delicate fingers warm and steady in mine.
“Such a convincing gentleman,” she murmurs as we head inside. “Though you could try not to look like you’re plotting a murder.”
“I’m always plotting,” I reply.
Her pouting crimson-painted lips twitch into a sultry smile, giving her a dangerously feminine edge. “Lucky me.”
Christ, I think Evi might have it out for me, based on the way she’s dressed Aisling tonight—or at least, she’s definitely trying to move us past the rather frigid way we’ve been dancing around each other at the house these past few weeks.
I could almost appreciate Evi’s efforts if Aisling and I were actually trying to make this marriage work.
But since it’s all fake—and I absolutely cannot make the same mistake of falling into bed with Aisling once more—the fact that she looks like Aphrodite incarnate is going to make this night pure agony.
A truth that’s only made more apparent when I take Aisling’s mink shawl at the coat check and discover what’s been hiding beneath it this whole time.
I have to bite back an audible groan when I realize the corset-style bodice she’s wearing is not only strapless but has pushed my wife’s breasts up into an ample display of just how gifted she is in that department.
“You sure you won’t get cold without a bit more… coverage?” I suggest, silently willing her to have mercy on me and cover up.
“I’ll be fine,” Aisling says, seeming completely oblivious to my discomfort. “These events always get warm before long.” Then her eyes narrow as she seems to register the tension in my jawline. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Raf,” she hisses. “What do you care if I’m wearing a dress that might make men look at me? It’s not like Ibelongto you.”
“They should damn well think it,” I grit out.
But Aisling just gives me a cool, wicked smile. “Don’t worry,Love. Tonight, they’ll all see I only have eyes for you.” She runs her fingers down my suit collar, tugging me close so her breasts are pressing firmly against my chest, and she looks up at me with such wide-eyed innocence, it makes me rock hard. “Now come show off your beautiful new bride,” she whispers, her lips coming within inches of mine before she releases me to sashay toward the main room.
The ballroom is alive with light and money and ambition.
Crystal chandeliers, polished marble, the low hum of conversations layered with music.
This is where Chicago’s elite pretend charity absolves them of their sins.
Aisling slips into the role flawlessly.
Her hand rests at my arm, her touch light but possessive enough to sell the illusion.
She remembers names after a single introduction, asks thoughtful questions, laughs at the right moments.
Each brush of her fingers against my wrist, my shoulder, steals my breath away, and I have to remind myself time and again that tonight is about leaving a lasting impression—that the new head of the Chiaroscuro family is here to stay.
We stop first with Governor Donnovan and his wife. He shakes my hand firmly, politician’s smile firmly in place.
“Raf,” he says. “I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you. They are,” I say smoothly.
Before I can introduce her, Aisling steps in. “Aisling Chiaroscuro. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve admired your work with urban redevelopment.”
Mrs. Donnovan brightens instantly. “Oh, then you must come see the new South Side initiative.”
“I’d love that,” Aisling replies warmly. “Strong communities don’t happen by accident. They need protection. Investment.”
Her eyes flick briefly to me, sharp and knowing, then back to the governor’s wife.
It’s the same time and again as familiar faces come to greet us, offering condolences for my father’s passing and congratulations on my nuptials.
It’s no surprise to me that no one mentions my first marriage.
