“Oh no. Don’t start crying. I don’t know what to do with emotional girls,” he says, sounding panicked.
“Don’t you have two sisters?” I ask, wiping at the errant tears streaking down my face.
“I do. And I avoid them at all costs,” he says so seriously, I can’t help but start to laugh, which in turn causes him to smile. “Please don’t cry. Why are you sad?”
A laugh escapes me, though it sounds more like a cry. “What else? A boy.”
He frowns. “Boys are the worst. But I love them. Don’t you?”
“I suppose.” An ally, I think to myself as I contemplate him, noting the sincerity in his gaze, how he’s so focused on me. As if I matter to him, which is silly. We’re practically strangers. “Why are you back here and not at the party?”
“I hate parties. I’m more of a one-on-one person,” he admits.
My smile is weak. “Same.”
“Tell me now. What boy upset you?” he asks softly.
I can tell he’s genuinely curious. It’s in the way he watches me, as if he wants to fix my problems. Or maybe I’m reading too much into this conversation, I don’t know.
All I know is he’s the first friendly face I’ve seen in a while, and I want to confess all of my deep, dark secrets to him.
“You might not know him…” My voice drifts.
“I know pretty much everyone in this house. And there are currently hundreds of people here. Though I suppose I don’t know you.” He mock scowls at me. “Tell me now. Who did you come with?”
“Sylvie Lancaster,” I answer.
His entire face lights up. “Love her. Is her gorgeous brother here too? God, that boy is exquisite. Such fine bone structure.”
I nod, my lower lip trembling.
“Please don’t tell me he’s the one who broke your heart.” He frowns.
A single tear falls from the corner of my eye and I dash it away.
“You don’t need to answer.” He sighs. “Whit Lancaster is absolutely divine. But he’s also the absolute worst.”
“Terrible,” I agree with a little hiccup.
“Gorgeous though. Those eyes. The cheekbones. The faintly sinister expression always on his face, as if he’s plotting your death and you’ll smile the entire time as he murders you. Why do I always like them when they look so mean?” he asks himself.
“I have the same problem,” I admit, and we both laugh.
“Don’t let him bother you. He’s not worth your tears, baby doll.” He stops directly in front of me and reaches out, wiping away the single tear that’s making its slow descent down my cheek. “Want me to accompany you downstairs?”
The hopeful look on my face says it all, I’m sure. “You would do that for me? I thought you hated parties.”
“Oh, I do. But I’m also a sucker for a damsel in distress.” He gives me another look, then gestures toward the door he just came out of. “We need to clean you up first.”
“Is this your room?” I ask as he reaches for the door handle.
He tips his head back and laughs. “No, darling. This is the servants’ wing. It’s where I meet my secret hook ups.”
My mouth drops open. “You had a secret hook up? With who?”
“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret.” The sly smile on Monty’s face makes me smile in return. “Let’s just say he’s a testosterone-filled jock with a player reputation, yet he secretly loves sucking dick.”
Oh dear. That is quite the secret. I can think of a few people at my school who would fit that jock description. “College or high school?”
“I don’t kiss and tell, and I definitely don’t mess around with high schoolers,” he says with a tilt of his nose as he cracks open the door. “Teen boys come too fast anyway.”
Hmm. Monty has never been with a teen like Whit Lancaster then.
He offers his arm and I hook mine through it, letting him lead me inside.
It’s nice to find another friend.
Twenty minutes later and I’m descending the stairs with Monty escorting me, his arm still looped in mine as we each survey the scene laid out before us. He helped clean me up and set me to rights, giving me a pep talk the entire time on how I’m going to handle Whit, and then demanded we go greet the subjects.
That’s what he calls the guests in his home. The subjects.
I’m kind of in love with him already. He has so much confidence. He flat out doesn’t give a shit what people think of him, though I suppose his name and his breeding has something to do with that. I wish I had even an ounce of his confidence within me.
Maybe if I hang around him long enough, his attitude will rub off.
Once we step off the staircase, everyone clamors around Monty, most of them casting me curious looks since they have no idea who I am. When they ask about me, he claims I’m his guest and that’s all he says.
It makes them want to know more, I can tell. But he shuts them down if they ask about me. And I don’t say a word. I just stand there with a mysterious smile on my face, my gaze everywhere, desperate to find Whit.
God, I’m so stupid. Why would I want to find him? He’ll just destroy me anyway. He’s probably with that girl. Monty’s sister. Leighton. They’re probably fucking right now, while he’s telling me I need to walk around this party with his cum coating the inside of my thighs like he owns me.
I hate him. I do.
“Darling, your lip is curling, as if someone just shat their pants,” Monty warns, his mouth close to my ear as he leans in to whisper to me. People are talking all around us, some are even speaking directly to him, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Keep your composure. Whit has entered the room.”
My legs want to give out and I lock my knees, clutching Monty’s arm as I do my best to twist my lips into a faint smile.
“There you go. Chin up,” Monty encourages. I glance over at him to find he’s looking to his left, a pleased expression on his face. “Ah, he’s headed this way. Act like a princess, love. You’re above this. You’re above him.”
My chin goes up and I stare down my nose at the people surrounding us, my smile turning real. Mysterious. I duck my head toward Monty, my gaze fond as I look at him and he smiles at me in return. As if we’re old, dear friends.
We’re good, Monty and me. I feel like I’ve found a kindred spirit.
The air suddenly shifts, becoming charged. I feel his presence before I see him. Every hair on my body rises, goose bumps following swiftly.
“Montgomery.” The voice is familiar. Dark.
Devastating.
“Whittaker,” Monty says, amusement lacing his tone. “What’s got your panties in a twist tonight, darling? You appear ready to breathe fire.”
Whit literally bares his teeth at Monty before sliding his fiery gaze to me. “You’re with my date, Monty. And you know I don’t like to share.”
The crowd surrounding us goes silent. My lips part in surprise, but no sound comes out.
Did Whit really just publicly claim me as his date?
Monty laughs, his arm squeezing around mine. “You were always selfish with your toys, Whit.”