“I don’t know that Abby is the kind of girl who is going to fall for that. You saw that look. It’s clear Cal Mantelli isn’t her favorite person, and I’m certain she has added our names to that list.”
“That may be so. But we have thirty days to make her ours. And I plan on using every second we have to make sure that happens.”
It took everything he had not to kiss her when she was here. He had taken one look at her and wanted to know what those plump lips would taste like. What kinds of sounds she would make when he kissed her. How her eyes would light when he touched her.
“Are you with me?” he asked his friend.
Cole ran his fingers through his hair. “For a chance with her? Yes I am. I’m all in, if we can make this work.”
“Then the opening in Vegas this weekend will be the perfect chance to show her what we can give her.”
“Let’s just get through dinner first.”
5
Abby
It didn’t matter that the drapes were made from imported silk or that she had her own fireplace. Abby didn’t care that there was a closet full of designer gowns, and more high heels than she had seen in a department store.
These walls were her prison. A beautiful expensive prison. And she hated it.
She turned on the TV and sank onto the pile of pillows. She scowled, despising how comfortable the bed was. It would make it easier if they gave her a bed of thorns to sleep on—not luxurious linens.
Who did these assholes think they were? There was nothing about them that seemed like the thugs Cal usually did business with. They were refined. Polished. And they had money. They weren’t trying to hide how rich they were. She doubted they had made a single deal in the back of an ally or resorted to petty theft to pay bills.
From their expensive suits to the custom details in the mansion. They were loaded. Their reputations as Chicago’s infamous bachelors were hard to miss. They were splashed on social media. There were even blogs about Deacon and Cole. The last article she read put together a bracket list on which Chicago socialites would be able to snag the duo. She wondered what the world would think if they knew this is what they did.
She wasn’t going to get caught up in the riches. Abby knew money was fleeting. She had learned that the hard way. She had seen her family’s fortune go up in flames when her father lost everything in a real estate deal. They lost it all: the cars, the land, her mother’s jewelry, and their house.
It wasn’t long after his financial ruin that her father learned he was sick. Life went from bad to worse. Money meant nothing and everything at the same time.
Abby wandered to the window and stared out at the manicured grounds. There was an infinity pool that stretched the length of the house. It had to be heated.
She would do anything to trade the money to have her father back. She watched the landscaper trimming hedges. The money almost made her sick. She had seen how hard he worked to make sure they never wanted for anything. But what was the point?
There was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” she called.
Douglas entered. “Mr. Rockford and Mr. Evans would like for you to wear this for dinner, Miss Mantelli.” He presented her with a gown tucked inside a leather garment bag.
She rolled her eyes. “Is there something wrong with my sweater and jeans?” She folded her arms. She knew the boots were cute.
“Dinner at the manor is formal.” He cleared his throat. “Appropriate dress is required.”
“Fine. I’ll wear the damn dress.”
She attempted to yank it from his gloved hands.
“It is a one-of-a-kind Shera. It’s delicate, Miss Mantelli.”
For a second she hesitated. “A Shera?”
He nodded. “Yes ma’am.”
She wasn’t going to be seduced by the price tag on this dress. She didn’t care if it was a twenty-thousand dollar gown. They were showing off. Paying her off. It wasn’t going to work.
She took it from Douglas. “I’ll wear it, but only because I have to.”