Page 85 of Rush

“It’s nothing…” she stammers.

I roll my eyes. “I can feel you staring.”

She exhales slowly—bracing.

“Elena, I know you haven’t spoken to Dad, and I’m pleading with you topleasebe good this week.”

I drag my eyes from the blur outside and arch a brow at her. “Define good?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “Don’t start anything. Don’t bait Dad. Don’t?—”

“I know, Pip,” I cut in smoothly, leaning my head back against the leather seat with a lazy smirk. “I’m going to be a perfect angel.”

Riley, sprawled behind me like she’s heading for a beach vacation instead of straight into a minefield of family drama, snorts. “Since when?”

“Since now,” I say sweetly, twisting in my seat just enough to shoot her a look before turning back to Philippa. “Honestly, Pip, I wouldn’t ruin your wedding festivities.”

“You’re right,” Riley chimes in, voice too bright to be innocent. “She wouldn’t ruin it. She’ll just…spice it up.”

A laugh slips out of me, but Philippa isn’t amused—her fingers drum against her lap, restless.

“If I have to referee between you and Dad…” she begins, voice tight.

I groan, sinking lower into my seat, feeling more like a sulky teenager than a grown woman allegedly capable of keeping her cool.

Allegedly. And if I was honest, my track record didn’t exactly prove otherwise.

Philippa slides me a look over her sunglasses—calm but edged with warning.

“Just…try,” she pleads softly.

“Yes,” I hiss. “I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior this weekend. But make sure you pass the message on to dear old Dad, will ya?”

She tuts.

Even to my own ears, the words feel heavy—like a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep.

The iron gates to Ravenswood Estate groan open as our SUV approaches, and I catch sight of the guys following close behind in the rearview mirror.

The thought of seeing Broderick again sends a sharp, traitorous thrill through me.

“Almost there, ma’am,” Luca says, catching my eye in the mirror.

“Thanks, Luca.”

Luca and Chris—have been assigned my personal security for the next few days. I like Luca; he’s in his early thirties, quiet but friendly.

Chris is nice enough, in his forties, I think. He probably has kids, but I haven’t pressed him for details. He doesn’t strike me as the forthcoming type.

There was a time I would have hated having someone shadowing my every move. But success brings attention—and risk. I’m learning to appreciate the extra set of eyes.

“God, this place is insane,” Riley mutters, leaning forward between the seats to catch the view of Ravenswood looming ahead. Stone and ivy, chimneys curling smoke into the cool morning sky. “Reckon they have a dungeon we can lock you up in if you misbehave?”

“Kinky,” I quip back, laughing as tension slips from my shoulders.

Philippa stifles a giggle, shaking her head.

“Did you rent a castle for this wedding, or what?” Riley whistles, raising her brows as she takes in the view.