Chapter 3

CHAPTER

THREE

Anthony didn’t know who Cillian was—though clearly someone of note to be at the party—but he was the kind of man that captured people’s attention. His blond hair was carefully styled, and he was at ease among the rich and powerful and those clawing their way up the ladder.

Where did Cillian fit?

He’d been at Hayden’s wedding, which meant he was one of his brother’s cronies and therefore untrustworthy. Cillian would rip him apart and smile while he did it.

Cillian was smiling now. If Anthony didn’t accept the invitation, he’d be the rude one. There were too many people watching and waiting to see what he’d do. Margot gave him a look that suggested he should take this opportunity and run with it. If he ever wanted to climb his way back into society, he needed to take the first step. This was that step.

He couldn’t loiter at Margot’s side all night. While Hayden had made it clear he wasn’t happy Anthony was there, there wasn’t much Hayden could do about it without causing a bigger scene.

He hooked his arm through Cillian’s. It was an overly formal gesture for the event, but also reassuring, as he wouldn’t make it through this party on his own.

He should be loving it. A party he wasn’t paying for. Better, a party his brother was paying for. He should dive into the booze and food, and enjoy everything that he’d been denied, right down to the company on his arm.

Him being gay wasn’t a secret. It was one of the first things Hayden tried to use against him growing up. Anthony had realized back then he had a choice, either to hide it and live in fear or own it. He’d decided to own it, and Hayden had come off looking like a jerk.

Was Cillian some kind of new ploy? A honey pot so he opened up and spilled something to be used against him?

His stomach tightened, and the anxiety picked at his brain, waiting to pull him under.

Breathe. Listen to the music and the gossip.

Gossip that was probably about him. He scrambled for a distraction. He lowered his gaze, so he didn’t catch anyone’s eyes by accident, and it landed on Cillian’s lips, which were curved in a sharp smile as if he wanted to be elsewhere.

Away from him or away from the party?

When was the last time Anthony had been this close to someone?

His sister didn’t count.

Nor did his shrink or the guards.

So before. The Saturday night before his life fell apart? He didn’t want to relive that either.

Focus on his lips and the music.

It wasn’t anything popular. Hayden was trying too hard and playing something classical. Typical. How would anyone be able to dance? There’d be no nude swimming in the pool later as everyone put on their best faces, even if they were doing lines off the marble counter in the bathroom. Classical music did that. Hire a DJ though, and things got interesting.

He wasn’t ready for that kind of party. Did people remember the ones he’d once thrown, or was he well and truly forgotten?

While he wasn’t looking at the people around him, he felt their attention. They were watching him, but some of the hostility stirred up by Hayden’s behavior toward him was fading because of Cillian walking next to him—which meant Cillian was liked. Anthony had always been good at reading a crowd, and prison had honed that skill. But instead of being the center of attention, he’d learned how to be invisible, and when to get the hell out.

If Cillian dragged him around the room to meet all his friends, Anthony was bailing. Hayden didn’t want him here, and he didn’t want to be here, so this was polite torture until it was acceptable to leave. He’d never left a party early before, and the parties didn’t end until he left. Or, at least, that was how it had been.

Anthony needed to keep it together, and let people watch and try to figure him out. He needed to at least appear as if he was enjoying tonight. He needed to look like a success, even if he wasn’t. Appearance was half of everything until there was proof to the contrary.

Hayden watched them with disgust smeared over his face. His lip curled in a barely hidden sneer. If Hayden hadn’t been expecting Anthony to be at the party, he couldn’t have arranged for Cillian to attend and befriend him. Not only that, but Hayden hadn’t sent Cillian over, Cillian had already been crossing the room.

Something wasn’t adding up. Anthony was so used to expecting the worst from people, that he’d lumped Cillian with his brother—and very few people deserved that. As much as he liked the idea of having Cillian on his arm for the party, to act as a shield and distraction, it wasn’t fair for him.

“Being seen with me won’t be good for your social standing,” Anthony said in a low voice.

“You’re fresh meat and everyone has a different story about you.” Cillian’s gaze flicked up at him. He didn’t hide the heat in his gaze. “Besides, it’s always more fun to have a man on my arm at these kinds of things. Someone to talk to instead of the potted plants. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t think my conversation skills are much better than the plant.” Sitting in the corner and being ignored sounded nice. The room was hot, and the people were loud. Their fake laughter cut through him, and he kept waiting for their mood to turn.

For them to turn on him.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Look pretty on my arm, and I’ll skate you through this. If we leave together, imagine the gossip.” Cillian said with what sounded like a practiced laugh.

He was joking, wasn’t he?

Anthony didn’t want to imagine the gossip, but he smiled and nodded as if they were having the most delightful conversation. Besides, this was the most delightful conversation he’d had, aside from the one two weeks ago when he’d been let out. That was still rating pretty highly and giving him a feel-good buzz.

“Everyone is wondering what you did,” Cillian murmured as he took a glass of wine from the passing waiter.

Anthony snagged one too, even though he didn’t want to drink. He’d had two beers to celebrate his release, and they’d gone straight to his head. He needed to stay alert tonight, but the glass was a nice prop to hold on to. “I’m surprised Hayden didn’t make banners detailing my crimes.”

Hayden suffered from a severe case of middle child syndrome and had felt ignored from the day of Anthony’s birth. They’d been in competition ever since.

Right now, Hayden was winning. For one, he had a house. Anthony had a room in his sister’s house where he was free-loading while he tried to glue his life back together. There wasn’t enough glue or pieces, and he didn’t know what to do next.

“Everyone has heard something different.” Cillian nodded at someone but didn’t lead them over. He wasn’t rude enough to ask.

Anthony was rude enough to make him. When had he become such an asshole? He could do better, be nicer. He turned so Cillian needed to look him in the eye. The silence between them reached awkward levels, but they both kept their smiles fixed in place. Anthony broke before Cillian. “You can ask.”

His brown eyes regarded Anthony as though he were a curiosity. He was. He didn’t belong in places like this anymore. The designer labels and diamonds, the pearls and PHDs.

Cillian sipped his drink and considered him for a moment longer. “What did you do before?”

That wasn’t what Cillian was supposed to ask. “Finance.”

Liam, Rafe, and he had been good at what they did, but that ease had become a temptation they couldn’t resist.

A waiter with a tray of nibbles paused next to them. Three kinds of morsels to choose from. Anthony hesitated with his hand out, and the waiter made a noise that suggested he should hurry up. He’d let his sister pick his shirt and tie for tonight. He hadn’t picked his clothes in a decade. Hadn’t made any choices, as they’d all been made for him by the prison routine. Unable to make such a simple decision, he picked up the same nibble as Cillian and hoped it was good.

“So what happened?” Cillian said before putting the food in his mouth.

Anthony hesitated, but at some point, he needed to talk about it, or the gossip would take on a life of its own. Better to own it and use it to his advantage. He didn’t know what that advantage was yet. “I did almost ten years for misusing investor funds, amongst other things.”

At thirty-six, he had nothing. These people had careers and families and lives.

He waited for Cillian to walk away, but he didn’t.

“That seems harsh.”

“It was over sixteen million dollars.” He couldn’t stop his smile from widening. It had become a game. A competition to see who added the most to their kitty that week. They’d been kings at twenty-six with the world at their feet. Then Rafe started using more frequently, and Liam’s wife got pregnant and he’d wanted to stop everything and be responsible. Rafe wanted to continue to fund his drugs. There had been arguments between the three of them. A tip off and drug bust had unraveled everything. “All gone now.”

Cillian stared at him, then one eyebrow lifted. “You’d have gotten less if you’d killed someone.”

“If it had been accidental.” It had been a bitter joke between the three of them. He ate the hors d’oeuvre. It was the most expensive and delicate thing he’d eaten in too long, but he didn’t enjoy it. Couldn’t when there were too many of Hayden’s friends surreptitiously watching him. Their social circles hadn’t overlapped before, after this they wouldn’t again. He’d make sure of it. Anthony swallowed hard, but his skin was prickling, and his chest was tight. He was never going to make it through the night. “I need some air.”

“It’s this way.” Cillian started toward the glass sliding door.

“You don’t have to come.” He’d tarnish Cillian’s reputation, if he hadn’t already. Unless Cillian was accruing interest by fishing for information on him. Cillian’s friends would demand answers later. At least then the truth would spread.

“Maybe I want to.” Cillian tossed him a careless smile and led the way.

Now Cillian had the information he wanted—the hot gossip of what he’d done—Anthony expected him to walk away. Not that he wanted to be left alone. He was enjoying having someone to talk to. Which only proved Cillian’s point that parties were more fun with someone. Anthony didn’t like the idea that he needed a social prop, even a willing one.

When he was looking at Cillian, he wasn’t wondering what everyone might be whispering about him. He wanted to ask what Cillian was thinking and why he was remaining by his side now he knew the truth.

Maybe this was a dare. Or perhaps he was proving a point.

Right now, Anthony didn’t actually care. If being on Cillian’s arm got him through the next couple of hours until it was polite for him to leave, then so be it. It was about time he got to enjoy the company of the people he was forced to be around.

This party was nothing but a well-dressed prison yard. There were the cliques, the rumor mill, and there’d even be drugs. The only difference was it wouldn’t end with a fist fight, and there’d be no head count and lock up.

The glass sliding doors were open, allowing people to go out the back to admire the garden, but no one was outside. Instead, they hovered around the food, alcohol, and chatter. The tension in his muscles eased. He’d hide out here for the rest of the party.

Easy.

Then he glanced at Cillian. Cillian wouldn’t want to hide. He’d want to be seen, and to find his friends and tell them everything. Anthony needed to keep his guard up and not reveal too much. He might need a little mystery later.

Cillian smiled; it wasn’t one of those fake smiles that never left the lips. Or a grin that promised retribution for some imagined slight. He couldn’t remember the last man to smile at him like that, and for a moment, he wanted this to be his life, and that Cillian was his date, so he remembered what being normal felt like.

His own smile widened. If this was normal, he’d kiss him at some point. They’d make plans or swap numbers. They might even leave together—hadn’t Cillian already suggested that? Anthony wasn’t sure he remembered what to do. He’d suppressed all desire for so long he’d killed it. And if it wasn’t dead, he didn’t know what kind of hungry monster might wake.

The temptation to find out rose, and the beast stirred. Cillian’s cologne teased his senses, and his smile would convince an angel to sin. This time it wasn’t anxiety racing through his blood and making his heartbeat faster.

Anxiety was safer. He didn’t have time for lust. He didn’t need to become entangled when there was so much work to do.

He baulked just before stepping outside, unable to cross the threshold.

This was a bad idea. He needed boundaries. No, he had to do this, or he’d be forever making fences for himself, and he refused to be one of those guys who got out and then made themselves a prison because the world was too big. Anthony forced himself to step on to the patio. He’d enjoy Cillian’s company at the party for as long as Cillian thought him a worthy distraction.

The garden was lit up with strategically placed lights, and the pool glowed blue. Why anyone had a pool this close to the beach Anthony didn’t understand. No… He did, and it all came down to status. One of the first things he’d done after being released was go to the beach to feel the sea on his skin and the sand beneath his feet. He’d stood there and enjoyed the endless view unbroken by walls before the enormity of it scared him, and he’d rejoined his sister in the tiny ice cream shop.

Cillian walked ahead of him. His suit was fitted enough that it drew attention to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He walked as though he expected to be looked at. And Anthony obliged, allowing himself to enjoy the view and contemplate what ifs.

“You don’t like parties?” Cillian said as he turned and leaned one elbow on the glass fence that separated the patio from the pool area.

“I do… I did.” When Margot suggested going, Anthony had been keen, ready to jump straight back into his life as if he’d been on a short holiday not paying for his crimes. “I seem to have forgotten how.” He needed to work out how to exist in this world. It had been so natural before. Now he watched and second-guessed himself all the time, and even though he was aware of it, he couldn’t stop.

Cillian shrugged as if the admission was no big deal. “So relearn.”

Anthony drew in a sharp breath. There were many things he needed to relearn. Like how to use a cell phone when the technology had jumped ahead. But there were also things he couldn’t relearn. He didn’t want to go back to prison, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think he could do it again and not be caught. The cops were watching him, waiting for him to fuck up.

Expecting him to fuck up.

Just like his brother and his parents. Even his sister expected him to fail. The only difference was that she’d offered a hand to keep him on the right path. If he tripped, he was sure Margot would let go and pretend he didn’t exist, her compassion only extending so far.

Anthony shook his head. “I can’t be the person I was.”

“Then you be the person you want to be,” he said, as though it were simple. He lifted an eyebrow, and his smile became infectious.

Anthony had no idea why Cillian was smiling at him like that or why he was smiling back. He had less of an idea about who he wanted to be, if he could be anyone. Until that moment, all he’d wanted was a shot at getting something close to his old life back. Now he wondered if he had a shot at kissing Cillian, and if he remembered how.