Athair did as he preached.

Jane Fitzpatrick was quiet, coy, and lacked anything resembling a backbone. That, of course, didn’t stop her from cheating on her husband. Both my parents committed adultery, often and openly.

I grew up looking at the worst possible example for matrimony, took notes, and was expected to follow in their footsteps.

My baby brother had apparently been absent for the Women are Evil lecture. Hunter married for love. Not only that but he also wedded the most difficult girl he’d ever laid eyes on.

Shockingly, he seemed happy.

Then again, that meant nothing. Hunter possessed the intellect of a Lab puppy. I was pretty sure bone-shaped cookies and licking his own balls would make him content, too.

“Earth to Kill?” Hunter snapped his fingers in front of my face. “I asked why Minka. Why now?”

I opened my mouth to tell him to mind his own business when Petar, my estate manager, stormed into the room. His hair was damp from rain.

“You have a visitor, sir.”

I didn’t look up from my cards even though something weird and unwelcome happened in my chest.

The chances of it being Persephone were slim to none. Even if it was her, she missed her chance, and there was nothing to be done about it now.

“Who is it?” I barked.

“Mrs. Veitch.”

I could feel Hunter’s gaze darting in my direction, burning a hole through my cheek.

“I’m busy.” I motioned to the table.

“Sir, it’s late and raining hard.”

“I can read the time and look through the window. Call her a cab if you feel so inclined to be a gentleman.”

“There’s a storm. Lines are down. Taxi apps aren’t working,” Petar countered, hands behind his back, each word pronounced slowly and measuredly. He knew I did not appreciate being slighted. I was always trigger-happy to get rid of unruly staffers. “She is soaked to the bone and seems pretty upset.”

Hunter opened his mouth, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“She has five minutes. Bring her in.”

“You want her to come here to this room?” Petar glanced around. A rancid cloud of cigarette and cigar smoke hung above our heads, and the sour scent of stale, warm alcohol soaked the walls. The room smelled like a brothel.

She was a damsel in distress, and I was inviting her into the lion’s den.

But Persephone turned down my offer. If my ego took a beating, then hers could use a few spanks, too.

I met Petar’s eyes with a vacant stare.

“It’s my way or the highway, and as far as my knowledge goes, Mrs. Veitch can’t afford a car. Send. Her. In.”

Not a minute later, Persephone was ushered into the drawing room, drenched and tattered. A thin trail of water followed her, her shoes squeaking with every step she took. Her eyes, blue and bottomless as the pit of the ocean, looked feverish. Yellow hair framed her temples and cheeks, and her holed windbreaker was tangled around her willowy body.

She stopped in the middle of the room, graceful as a queen who’d allowed her servants the time of the day. I saw the minute it really hit her. When she took in her surroundings. The soft lighting, refreshments, and charcuteries.

This life could have been yours. You turned it down for love.

She drew herself to her full height—which, granted, wasn’t much—took a breath, and honed her gaze on me.

“I accept.”

The two simple words exploded in the room.

Watch that pulse, Cillian.

“I beg your pardon?” I raised an eyebrow.

She ignored Hunter, Sam, and Devon, exhibiting balls bigger than all three of them. Petar stood beside her, his stance protective.

Persephone tipped her chin higher, refusing to cower and flail. At that moment, soaked as a rat and well on her way to pneumonia, she was mercilessly beautiful, and I knew exactly why I always chose to look at her older sister whenever we were in the same room.

Emmabelle didn’t blind me.

Didn’t consume me.

Didn’t move me.

She was just another woman packed with mannerism and entitlement, existing loudly, unapologetically, desperate to be seen and acknowledged.

Persephone was pure and noble. Bare of pretense.

“Your offer.” Her voice was silky and sweet as pomegranate. “I accept it.”

She accepts.

I was going to punch a wall.

No, not just a wall. All of them. Reducing my Back Bay Jacobean mansion to nothing but dust.

She is accepting an offer that’s no longer on the table.

Her cheeks reddened, but she refused to budge, nailed to my floor, a pool of water forming around her.

Having her felt almost too easy at that moment, yet entirely impossible.

“Persy, I—” Hunter rose from his seat, about to rush over and help his wife’s friend. I pushed him back down by his shoulder, pinning him on the chair to the wall with force, my eyes still fixated on her.

“You know why I like Greek mythology, Persephone?” I asked.

Her nostrils flared. She didn’t take the bait because she knew I’d tell her, anyway.

“The gods have a history of punishing women for hubris. You see, fifty-five hours ago, I wasn’t good enough to be your husband. It took you longer than we’d agreed to get back to me.”

Her mouth fell open. I’d outed us in front of all our acquaintances without as much as a blink.

“There was a storm.” Her eyes flared. “Trains were down. I had to ride my bike in the rain—”

“I’m bored.” Dropping my head to the headrest, I grabbed a shiny apple from one of the fruit assortments and rolled it in my hand. “And you’re late. That is the essence of the situation.”

“I came here as soon as I could!”

Her shock was replaced with anger now. The two steel marbles of her eyes shimmered. Not with tears, but with something else. Something I hadn’t seen before in them until tonight.

Wrath.

My father’s words echoed in my head—marry someone manageable. Someone who wouldn’t ask for too much.

Minka seemed docile, adaptable, and desperate.

Persephone, on the other hand, asked for the unthinkable—love.

“Already proposed to someone else.” I sank my teeth into the Envy apple, its nectar trickling down my chin as our eyes remained locked in a battle of wills. “She accepted immediately.”

The room filled with silence.

All eyes were directed at me.

This wasn’t a power trip.

This was a full-blown act of humiliation.

I didn’t want Persephone Penrose.

She wasn’t good enough for me.

Even if she were, what good would come out of it? She wanted all the things I didn’t.

A relationship. A partnership. Intimacy.

I wasn’t Hunter. I wasn’t capable of loving or even liking my wife. Tolerating? Possibly, and only if we reduced our communication to once a month. Besides, the day my brother married Sailor Brennan, I’d almost let Persephone die of poisoning just to avoid being in the same room alone with her.

I’d been seconds away from devouring her.

From sinking my teeth into her firm, round ass.

From grinding myself against her tits until I came in my pants from the friction.

And now I was hard in a room full of people. Terrific.