The Mayor and his wife head for the garden, where cocktails and appetizers await, allowing Rohan and Jeremiah to approach with their dates. Angie's piece of shit ex-husband and his redheaded fiance don't recognize me at first as greetings are exchanged. I'm cleaned up, in a suit, and on Augusta's arm, so I don't blame him for not making the connection when I give him a knuckle-shattering handshake. Jeremiah squints to assess me, his hand jerking out of mine when recognition hits.

"Must be torture knowing you lose control of Angie next month," I say.

"We'll see about that."

"Yes, we will." I stare him down.

Meanwhile, Rohan and Augusta exchange air kisses before she gestures to me. "Rohan, please meet Miguel Gomez, my escort for tonight."

"Miguel... Gomez?" he says, shaking my hand with his full head of dark hair, light brown skin, and dimples like some handsome fuck. "Your name is very familiar. Where do I know you from?"

"I dated Mi—"

But Augusta cuts me off. "He used to be a doorman at Penthouse, and I plucked him out of the trenches, so now he's one of mine."

"A doorman? Is that how you got those bruises?" he laughs. "Must be a rough gig."

"It has it's excitements."

"But really, Miguel should be praised for his hard work as a personal trainer," Augusta says. "I've never been more sore after a session with him."

"Oh, is that why your biceps look stronger than usual?" Rohan laughs. "Do you have a business card, Miguel? Maybe I can get you to whip my girlfriend into shape for our next vacation."

"Oh, yes, please!" his date says. "I desperately need to lose five pounds for my bikini."

She's already a slender woman, so I don't know how shaving a few measly numbers off the scale will make a difference, but I smile anyway and indulge her.

"Actually, with the muscle tone you'll build, you'll likely gain five pounds. But I promise it'll be worth it when you see how sexy you look in your bikini with your newly sculpted shape."

Her eyes brighten, and she glances at Jeremiah's fiancé. "Let's do it together!"

"She doesn't need a trainer." Jeremiah clasps his fiance's elbows and steers her away. "Let's grab some cocktails."

"Jeremiah..." Augusta touches his arm, stopping him. "I wanted to congratulate you on the conservatorship over your ex-wife ending soon. Now you can move on with your fiancé, and Angelina can move on with her life, too."

"Right," he says through his teeth.

"Many blessings to your future." Augusta turns to Rohan, gesturing toward the garden."The two of you should head out there, too. We'll talk again."

When they leave, there's a pause in guest traffic, allowing me to have a word with the boss. "That was a classic dig at Jeremiah."

"I get my jabs in when I can."

"But why do you keep telling people I'm some sort of personal trainer sent from the gods?"

"Relax. How we present ourselves on occasions like these is how people remember us. Embellishing is like icing on a cake. Don't be afraid to play a part."

"So this is one big act?"

"Not all of it. Relax." She nudges my arm.

"It's kind of hard when I'm still in the dark about things, yet I need to keep my eyes peeled for possible threats to you, Augusta. For example, who does Lucas work for?" I lower my voice since Jocelyn has returned and is a few feet away, greeting a guest. "Because it looks like he's part of your sister's team tonight."

"Don't worry about Lucas. Focus on your job." Augusta turns away to greet the guest, chatting with Jocelyn.

But I don't like that Lucas went somewhere after whispering with Kay. I want to go after him—find wherever he went to take his position. However, I can't, and for the next thirty minutes, Augusta carts me around, introducing me to people like I'm a brand-new pony she was gifted for her birthday. Meanwhile, I try to remember everyone's faces, words, and what they're not saying with body language.

I also watch Kay and Jocelyn like a hawk, and when they think I'm not looking, they watch me.

When Angie and Franky arrive, a smile spreads across my face, and I forget about the tension in the atmosphere between the Sisters. They waltz up to us, snatching champagne from a tray, and look like a couple of bosses while doing it.

"Francesca." Augusta air kisses her cheeks. "You look stunning in this bedazzled suit."

"Thanks. It's Versace."

"And you, Angelina." Augusta takes Angie's hands, holding them out to appraise her. "You look like an angel."

"Thanks..." She plucks herself free and scoots in closer to me. I kiss the top of Angie's head.

"More like a goddess," I say.

"Anyway." Augusta motions behind us. "The garden awaits with cocktails and appetizers, but don't spoil your hunger. We have an exquisite dinner menu tonight that will have you licking your fingers."

Franky belches, "Awesome. I'm here for the food."

"Don't stray too far," Augusta says. "I'd like to introduce you to Zack Nelson when he arrives."

"Za-zahhh," Franky can't even finish her sentence she's so shocked. "He's coming here?"

"Yes, absolutely. He's bound to surpass Elon Musk in every way but without the... personality. So, it wouldn't be an Abramovitz gala without the best the Bay Area offers."

"Oh, my god. Yes, I would love to meet him. Are you kidding me?"

"I knew you'd be excited." Augusta motions toward the garden again. "Now, go on. Enjoy yourselves. Although, watch out for snakes, Angelina. Your ex is here."

"Great. Thanks"

"In that case, we'll take this entire thing!" Franky snatches a tray with champagne glasses as a waiter walks by, startling him. "You don't mind, right, champ?"

But Franky isn't concerned with the poor waiter's reply, and she walks away with the tray of bubbly. Angie kisses me before leaving my side to join her, but I hold her up for a moment.

"Ang, have you talked to Sammy?'

"No, why?"

"He cornered me when I was leaving the apartment."

"Cornered you?" She furrows her brows.

"Yeah..." I nod slowly. "He had some choice words for me after I told him I work for Augusta now."

"Like what?"

"That he'll put me in the ground for getting you involved."

Angie sucks in a breath, and the crease between her brows deepens. "That's... not ok."

"I know. So I told him to go ahead and try."

This time, she exhales like she's been punched in the gut. "You what?"

I shrug.

"Miguel." She pinches the bridge of her nose. "You know what? Nevermind. I'll take care of this."

Angie brushes past me with a huff, but I block her path. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to tell Sammy Fucking Costello not to threaten my boyfriend!"

"Don't."

"Too bad." Angie throws her hands in the air and storms off. I want to go after her, but Augusta approaches.

"Did I hear Angie say Sammy Costello?"

"No."

"Yes, she did. How does she know him?"

"He... gave her a ride once." I shrug.

"And now she's confident enough to call him and tell him not to threaten you?" Augusta quirks an accusatory brow.

"Well, you don't know Angie like I do."

But Augusta doesn't like that response, so she grips my arm and narrows her eyes. "You didn't think it would be prudent to tell me that your girlfriend knows the mobster who almost killed my father." She points at the glossy hardwood floor. "He's downstairs, paralyzed, with round-the-clock care because of that man! And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Augusta-"

"No!" She holds up her hand. "Now is not the time for whatever apology you're about to spew. We'll continue this conversation tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am."

She inhales deeply and smooths down her dress. "Emilio."

"Querida." The cartel boss kisses her, his hands drifting around her waist to her back. "You take my breath away with your beauty."

"Oh, stop." She bats his chest.

"I reserved that spa in Napa you love. Let me sweep you off your feet next weekend."

"I suppose I can pencil it into my schedule."

"Do that. We can take the gondola up to the Kendall Jackson Vineyard and sip wine in one of their private rooms. I know it's your favorite place to go in wine country."

"You spoil me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Emilio kisses her knuckles and nods at his tall, dark, tattooed entourage to follow him to the garden.

"Don't wander too far. I want to introduce you to Rohan Reddy later."

"I wouldn't dream of staying far from you." Emilio winks at her, and it's almost endearing watching their interaction.

But I know for Augusta, it's nothing but a business relationship, where she gives him her flesh, and he bows at her command in return.

For the next ten minutes, we greet more guests until she and Jocelyn are notified that almost everyone has arrived and it's time to head to the garden to mingle. We cross through the solarium, adorned with twinkling lights, and step out where dusk casts an amber glow across the roses, making the fresh-cut grass almost appear amethyst. A canopy of string lights stretches over circular dining tables covered in white linen, like an artificial starlit sky. At the same time, a band of musicians play violins and cellos, sending classical melodies into the atmosphere where tree branches sway. There's a buzz as countless guests chatter while servers dressed in white weave around them with offerings. I can't believe we greeted that many people as they arrived.

Augusta stops at the top of the cement steps that fan and cascade into the garden. Jocelyn also pauses and wears the same plastic smile as her sister while they gaze upon everyone like queens overlooking their royal court.

"Shall we?" Augusta extends her hand to her sister, but Jocelyn lifts her chin and descends the steps without her.

This isn't good.

Adjusting her smile in case people are watching, Augusta lifts her dress so she doesn't trip on the way down. I stick to her look glue while scanning the crowd as we immerse ourselves among the guests. So many faces, so many titles, and so much money gathered in one place. It's like sheep and wolves choosing peace for one night to share the same carcass because they're both starving. We wade through the ocean of people, and as we move, men in black suits from each security team move with us while they guard their ladies like a hawks.

So far, Augusta seems irritated by my presence despite carting me around like a prize. What am I truly here for? I feel useless.

But things could be worse.

At least her guests don't see the clear divide between the Sisters, even though they stick to opposite ends of the garden, and Jocelyn will hardly glance at Augusta.

"Ma'am," I say. "Is it alright if I use the restroom?"

"You don't have to ask to alleviate yourself, Miguel. Go and be quick. Dinner is about to be served, and I need you at my table."

"Right. Be back."

I take off in a speed walk up the cement steps, through the solarium, and into the mansion, but I have no idea where the closest bathroom is. Two wrong turns lead me into the kitchen, where chaos lives as the head chef barks orders. Some cooks rush past boiling pots, while others chop furiously, and a few sear cuts of meat on flaming pans. I try asking which way the bathroom is, but everyone is too busy to help me. So I back out slowly.

A hallway to my right looks promising. Oil portraits of generations of Abramovitz hang on the walls as if the people in this family are royals. A partially open door catches my eye, so I slip inside and find myself in some library. If all fails, I can piss behind the velvet drapes.

"Stop following me!"

My ears twitch. It's Angie's voice.

"Follow you? What the fuck are you doing here?"

Shit. That's Jeremiah.

Rushing to the center of the room, I see no one, but I definitely hear arguing from somewhere. So I stand in the middle of the library, searching, but this place is enormous. The rows of bookshelves appear endless as they reach for a ceiling that is two levels high. Then I finally spot the back of Angie's head. She's up a flight of spiral stairs that leads to a balcony with a sitting area, and Jeremiah is in her face.

Fuck no.

"Leave me alone!" she yells, and I take off in a sprint toward the stairs.

"I don't know how you managed to get Cruella Deville to vouch for you, but it won't be for long. While you play checkers, I play chess. I always win, Angie."

"The fuck you do!" She tries slapping him, but he snatches her wrist and twists her arm back while whipping her around.

"You will never, ever be rid of me! I own you," Jeremiah growls in her ear, pinning her against the balcony railing, and I can't seem to climb faster.

Angie squirms, but he twists her arm more, causing her to shrill in pain while bending her over the railing. Fuck. Yet, he doesn't care as he tells her she's a whore and fishes his dirty hand up the skirt of her dress. There's fear in Angie's eyes as she grips the railing with one palm while staring at what awaits her below if she were to go over.

Hang on, baby.

My feet pump up the stairs as quickly as my heart is pulsing, and I'm laser-focused on Jeremiah. He tugs Angie's thong down, and she begs him through tears to stop.

Then I'm there.

Grabbing him by his tuxedo jacket, I fling him across the glossy hardwood. He tumbles into the chairs, and I'm on him, pinning him with my cast while punching him with my good hand. Jeremiah drives his knee upward into my balls, forcing me to curl into myself, which allows him to shove me off him. He staggers to his feet, woozy from my blows, and even though it feels like my junk was kicked into my throat, I grit through it to stand.

Because no one touches my woman and gets away with it.

Using the furniture, I push to my feet, and like a bull, I dig my toes into the floor, then charge the fucker. Angie leaps out of the way as we collide into the railing. Jeremiah's back thuds against it as he bows backward. His hands are around my neck, gripping to choke me and stop himself from going over.

"You're going to pay," he says, but the words are filled with fear, and he knows it as he turns his head to gaze down below.

I punch and punch his stupid face until his fingers loosen, and I can pry them off. "Don't ever touch her again."

His eyes are rolling as he blinks from being disoriented, so I hook an arm behind his knee and send him over the edge.

There's complete silence when he hits the library floor, and I step back with adrenaline still pumping. My chest rises and falls from rapid breaths, and my cast is completely busted. Pretty sure I fucked up my already broken arm, and my bones will need to be reset. Angie gently touches it, and I register her to my left. Her eyes are filled with tears, and her lips are trembling.

"He was gonna..."

"Shhh." I pull her into me because I don't want to think about what would have happened if I didn't stumble in here. "I'll never let anyone hurt you."

"Now what?" she asks, trembling.

"Fuck. I don't know."

The library door squeaks as someone pushes it all the way open, and Angie's eyes widen, her finger going to her mouth to hush me as heel taps echo downstairs. Nodding, I inch toward the railing and peer over just enough to catch a bedazzled suit, pausing at Jeremiah's body.

My shoulders relax.

Franky nudges him with her bedazzled, red bottom Louis Vuitton. She spins around wide-eyed, her gaze searching the balcony and landing on us.

With an uncorked frosty champagne bottle in hand, she says, "Fuuuuck. What did I miss?"