Page 199 of Playing With Fire

“First of all, your sister is stubborn as hell. I offered to pay for the dress. She bought it herself.”

“Good.” He huffs.

“Second, I'm not dragging her anywhere. She wanted to come.”

“Okay.”

“And third, what the fuck makes you think I'd ever try to change her?”

There's a pause.

“I don't,” he says finally.

I wait.

“That's not what I'm worried about.”

I glance toward the staircase.

“What, then?”

“You know what those things are like.”

“Free booze and rich people trying to outbid each other for a weekend in Aspen?”

“I'm talking about the women.”

I rub a hand over my jaw.

“Beckett—”

“Come on, man. You've been doing these events long enough. You know how vicious some of them can be.”

He's not wrong. I've watched grown women smile for photographs with their arms around each other like they are besties, then the claws come out, and they spend the rest of the night tearing each other apart. And there's no shortage of people, women specifically, looking to snag themselves a player for the night, or longer.

“Laney's not used to that shit,” Beckett continues. “She's trying to start her life in Chicago. She doesn't need people making up stories about her because somebody got a picture of her hanging off your arm. I mean, look at Halloween.”

He throws out, and I take the jab for what it is.

“That was different, and you know it.”

“Was it?”

My gaze drifts upstairs again.

“Look, D, she's not fragile.”

“I know that. She's my fucking sister.”

“Then give her some credit.”

“I do. But you know Laney. She acts like things don't bother her, and then she goes home and overthinks for days.”

That lands closer than I'd like, especially after O'Shea's.

“She's just my plus-one,” I lie. “Her friend Avery's going with Mercer. I figured she'd have a good time.”

“Mercer's taking her friend?”