Heat colored Tristan's face and he quickly looked away, slinking down in the front seat as he muttered something under his breath. He'd been caught in the act going at it hot and heavy with the sister of one of his former teammates. Getting caught with your pants down around your ankles was bad enough but when it was the girl's brother that did the catching? Yeah, that was a no-no. Family was off-limits, period. You just didn't do it. Tristan apparently missed that memo because he'd done it again and the situation had gotten pretty ugly.
According to rumor, anyway. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance that part of the story held a small kernel of truth and the rest of it was just bullshit.
"Holy shit." Luke muttered the words, his voice filled with a hint of awe as he pulled the SUV to a stop in front of a sprawling mansion sitting at the corner of a narrow street. I bit back my own stunned disbelief as a white-gloved valet motioned us forward then gallantly opened the doors for us.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
I shot a glance in Dylan's direction, silently agreeing with him as I reached up and hastily adjusted my tie before climbing out. Coach had told us yesterday that we didn't need formal wear, that suits would be perfectly acceptable. Part of me had figured he'd been joking—both times. I mean, who the fuck required suits at a fucking house party? Now I wondered if maybe we were underdressed. Would we be turned away at the door? Or maybe we'd be brought in through the servants' entrance.
Because if anyplace around here would have a servants' entrance, it was the monstrosity in front of us. Two staggering stories high, it looked like some kind of old Italian villa, complete with columns and wrap-around porches or verandas or whatever the hell they were called down here. Ancient trees decked out in twinkling lights stood guard around the front, just in case the wrought iron fence surrounding the place wasn't deterrent enough to keep unwelcome guests out.
The four of us exchanged a look and I knew without words that they were thinking the same thing I was: we were way out of our league here. I had no idea who Landry really was but whatever impression I'd first had was obviously wrong.
Whatever. He had money—obviously. And just as obviously it was old money. That didn't matter. At least, it shouldn't. The man put his pants on each morning the same way we did: one leg at a time.
Unless he had someone to dress him, which was looking like it could be quite possible.
I shook off my stunned awe then pushed through the gate and started up the lit walkway, only partly aware of the twinkling lights in the mammoth trees around us. The sole of my shoe scraped against the wide steps leading up to the door, the sound disappearing in the echo of lively music drifting from the open doors. Gerard Landry, the owner of the Bourdons, stood on one side, a warm smile of welcome wreathing his broad face. Across from him stood a well-dressed couple, their smiles of greeting more polite than warm.
I came to an abrupt stop, my feet refusing to budge as I got a good look at the woman standing three feet away from me. Her dark hair, so thick and wavy, was swept up in some kind of fancy style that exposed the column of her neck. The light reflected off the jeweled pins in her hair and danced on the ones hanging from her ears.
I stood there, frozen in place, trying not to gawk as I fought to fill my lungs with air. The woman must have finally realized something wasn't quite right because she turned her head just a few inches in my direction, her dark eyes meeting mine. Recognition slammed into me and I took a startled step forward only to be stopped short by a hand grabbing me from behind. Dylan, I thought, though I couldn't be sure even though it was his strangled voice I heard behind me.
"Holy fuck."
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Landry's shoulders stiffen a fraction of an inch. The smile faltered from the other man's face, the one standing entirely too close to the woman I couldn't look away from.
The woman who was staring back at me, her dark eyes filled with the same surprise I felt.
"Addy?"
Chapter Eight
Addy
I found a quiet spot in the busy kitchen and tucked myself into the corner, wishing the walls would tumble around me and knock me out of my misery—or just knock me out, period. The catering staff hurried about their business, refilling empty platters with food and drinks while steadfastly ignoring the woman with a pale face and trembling hands doing her best to disappear in the midst of the surrounding chaos. Would Quinn come looking for me? Or worse, my father?
Oh God, Daddy was going to kill me.
Or maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he wouldn't think anything about my mumbled excuse of not feeling well followed by my hasty retreat.
And maybe it would snow tomorrow.
Daddy may not always understand some of the subtle nuances of his daughters but he was a shrewd businessman and a concerned father. There was no way he could have missed my reaction to Nathan.
The wide-eyed surprise.
The sharp gasp.
The way I moved toward him, reaching for him, before catching myself and abruptly stepping back.
The heat of a fiery blush as it burned my cheeks, the reaction from embarrassment as much as it was from need. I'd moved toward him! Had thought, for just that brief second, about throwing myself into his arms.
Right there, in front of Quinn.
In front of my father.
Oh God, Daddy was so going to kill me. There was no way he could have missed that, not even if he'd been blind and born yesterday.
I waved a hand in front of my face, fanning my heated cheeks before dabbing at the small bead of sweat along my hairline. I needed some water. And cool air. And a few minutes to think.
Then I needed to go back out there and act like nothing was wrong.
The first item on my list was manageable. Everything else...well, I'd deal with them one at a time, as soon as I had something to drink. I pushed away from the corner, dodged around two people carrying heavy trays, and made a beeline for the sink.
Water first. If I could focus on doing that much at least, maybe I'd figure out what to do about everything else.
"Adelaide!"
I jumped when I heard my name. Water sloshed over the rim of the glass and spilled onto my hand and wrist, the coolness welcome amid my clumsiness. I turned, a fake smile plastered on my face as my sister, Marie, threaded her way through the crowded kitchen. She stopped next to me, leaned her head in close, and lowered her voice so nobody could overhear.
"What just happened?"
"What? Nothing. Why?" Had she been there? I hadn't seen her but that meant absolutely nothing.
"Don't say nothing. I saw the way you took off. Who is that guy?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Marie's head tilted to one side, wide blue eyes staring at me in silent reprimand. "Addy, I'm your sister. I know better. Now who is he?"
"He's nobody. Just somebody I met. That's all."
Marie watched me for a long minute, those blue eyes that were so much like our mother's seeing more than I wanted her to see. A small smile teased one corner of her mouth as a spark of excitement danced in her eyes. "Adelaide Landry! You're sleeping with one of Daddy's players."
"Keep your voice down," I hissed in warning before glancing around, worried that someone would overhear. The worry was needless because nobody was paying any attention to us. I grabbed Marie by the wrist and pulled her toward the corner where I'd first hid, just to be safe. "I'm not sleeping with him. And I didn't know he was one of Daddy's players."