Two things Conner never wasted his time on were corrupt people who tried to create an alliance with him, and their opinions of him. Right or wrong, good or bad—those were the only categories that mattered to him. Conner didn’t care for the gray areas others were so eager to navigate. He was either the protector or the destroyer to those around him, but never both. To some, that made him a mystery; to others, a danger.

That isn’t to say Conner was without fault. Far from it. Having grown up in a string of foster homes, he had been shuffled between a variety of well-intentioned, if imperfect, couples. Most of his foster parents had done their best, offering temporary care, but the few bad experiences had been enough to build a wall of distrust. Those who preyed on the vulnerable, those who used children as commodities—he hated them with a fury that burned hot in his chest. It took every ounce of restraint not to take justice into his own hands, to let the anger he so often kept buried rise and burn it all down. But he had learned to control it, thanks to Lord Hamilton, who had adopted him and shown him the importance of restraint. The man had tempered Conner’s rage, teaching him that vengeance was a path better left untread, no matter how much it tempted him.

Conner moved through the crowd, easily slipping between the bodies clustered around the hired gambling tables, but his attention was elsewhere. Gambling didn’t excite him, at least not in the way it seemed to captivate the spoiled rich kids who surrounded him. He didn’t need the thrill of chance, but he did take a certain satisfaction in watching the entitled lose their money. It was almost poetic, the way their fortunes seemed to slip through their fingers with the same ease they’d used to acquire them. He passed a young couple at a craps table, the man’s frustrated growl cutting through the din of the party. The woman’s face fell as she clutched her purse, only to have the man snatch it from her hands with a sharp yank.

“I said give me the money,” he growled, his voice low and angry, pulling more cash from his pocket.

“I just think you’ve lost enough for one night, Ben,” the woman said, her voice soft, almost apologetic. She was young, too young to be in a situation like this, but her eyes told a different story—a story of too many nights spent in the shadow of someone like him. His cold, domineering stare forced her to avert her eyes, and Conner caught the subtle shift in her posture. Her hand rubbed her arm where fading bruises still told their tale, too old to be new, but still painfully evident.

“I’m done when I say I’m done,” he said shoving her away from the table. The woman did not argue again. She was a picture of tragedy tethered to an abuser with a gambling addiction. Conner had seen similar situations many times—particularly amongst the first class. Power couples were either arranged or forged by expectation, not by serendipity. More times than not such marriages ended in a courtroom or sketchy circumstances. Conner could see clearly which direction this relationship was heading. If not for the small discord he had moments prior, Conner would have quickly put the man straight, but he had a persona to keep. Against his better judgement, he reluctantly moved on, making his way through the hubbub toward the busy bar outside.

The bartender was preoccupied with the cluster of flirting bodies gathered around him ordering a variety of drinks. Conner leaned against the counter patiently waiting when he spotted a couple of familiar faces which lit up when they saw him. “Conner!” Both extended a fist.

“Nate. Paul,” Conner greeted the happy-go-lucky party floating acquaintances with a fist pound. Rarely seen without the other, Nate and Paul binged on soirees. Their ‘good-boy’ appearance and high I.Q.’s made them easy targets for insults and browbeating, but over time they had become societal pets most people stuck up for.

“You’re getting here a little late, aren’t you?” Nate asked.

“Only if I missed something,” Conner replied while discretely scanning the lit poolside courtyard.

“No, you haven’t missed anything,” Paul replied.

“But…” Nate began with a strung-out tone full of anticipation, “the night is just getting started! With any luck the cops will show up at some point like they did last year.”

Conner’s right brow lifted. “You have an odd sense of pleasure.”

“You have no idea,” Paul joked while giving his wingman the side-eye.

“Yeah, sure. The most questionable behavior I’ve ever displayed wasn’t even astonishing enough to gossip about,” he laughed. “Unlike our friend, Conner, here.”

“Oh yeah? And what gossip has been flying around about me this time?”

“Rumor has it you have quite the secret,” Nate said with a raised brow.

Conner convincingly feigned amusement. “Ha! Which one?”

“Oh, you don’t deny it.”

“Come on, Nate,” Paul interrupted with a smirk, “if you unveil Conner’s secrets, he’ll lose the mysteriousness women find so alluring.”

“Oh, boys…I don’t need secrets and mystery to gain the attention of a woman.”

“No?” Nate prodded.

“No. All I have to do is save them from getting caught up in a conversation with one of you two.”

Nate and Paul laughed. “Is that right?” Nate asked with a stifled smile. “Just getting one of them to talk to us would be a nice change, but assuming we did, who is supposed to save her from you?”

“If everything goes as planned? No one,” Conner teased.

Just then, a brunette wearing a sleek, pink cocktail dress passed by, making eye contact with Conner. She smiled but kept walking. Conner patted Nate on the shoulder, saying, “That’s my cue.”

“That’s pathetic,” Nate teased. “If you weren’t cosmetically enhanced, we’d be working on equal ground at least.”

“Exactly! You should at least have to work for it like the rest of us,” Paul added.

Conner laughed. “I hate to burst your bubble, boys, but I’m allnatural. There’s no need to mess with perfection,” he replied as he walked away oozing with class and confidence.

They watched as Conner approached the woman, then began pretending to read their lips. “Hey, baby” Nate said in a deep cavemanlike tone. “My name Conner. Conner drive muscle car and wear too much good smell spray.”

“Oh, that sounds nice!” Paul’s voice squeaked as he did his best to mimic a female voice. “My name is Becky and I never play hard to get.” They laughed, amused with themselves.

“Wow, that’s great. That Conner’s favorite quality in woman. I bet you like appletinis and long walks on beach, huh?”

“Oh my gosh, how did you know?”

“Conner release pheromone only hot, smartest girls are sensitive to,” Nate snorted while trying to hold back laughter.

“Really? That’s so interesting…”

“Yeah. The only downfall is they immediately swoon over Conner’s rugged good looks and family title resulting in a significant I.Q. plunge.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Well, Conner don’t date them for their minds anyway so it not a huge loss.” Both men burst into laughter and returned to the bar as Conner and the woman walked away together.

Conner had begun leading the woman back toward the house when a small commotion caught his attention from the corner of his eye. His instincts, honed over years of watching and waiting, immediately sharpened. He slowed his pace, the flicker of movement making his muscles tense. Using a thick column as cover for his explosive outburst, the man—Ben—was at it again. This time, the violence was more overt, more brutal. Conner watched as the man’s hand flew toward his date with terrifying speed. The slap echoed across the courtyard, the force of it sending the woman stumbling backward into the column. She hit it with a sickening thud, and her body crumpled against it as tears welled in her eyes. The sobs came quickly, ragged, desperate.

Ben’s voice followed, sharp and cruel, as he leaned in, towering over her. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Can’t even take a little bit of fun?” His words dripped with venom as he chastised her, the coldness in his tone betraying a depth of malice far darker than the party’s festivities.

Conner stood frozen, his chest tight with the familiar, simmering rage that was so often just beneath the surface. The sight of this kind of cruelty sparked something dangerous inside him. It would be so easy to walk over, to intervene, to make this man feel the weight of his actions in a way that would end the violence once and for all.

“Why don’t you go ahead,” Conner said to the beautiful new acquaintance, offering her a polite but distant smile. “There’s something I need to do first.” His tone was casual, as if he had all the time in the world, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else—a hint of purpose behind the words.

The woman, clearly disappointed but polite enough to hide it, gave him a smile and nodded, turning to mingle with the others as she made her way across the courtyard. Conner watched her for a brief moment before his attention shifted.