Clayton scowled before licking his fingers, earning yet another dissatisfied hiss from the uptight socialite. If rolling eyes were an Olympic sport, Clay would have gotten the gold medal by now. Maybe I should have felt bad about dragging him to class, but I was too busy laughing at how miserable he was. He had preconceived notions about what it meant to be my date to this Junior Debutante dance, and attending cotillion class nipped away his eagerness with one snap of Mrs. Brodie’s fingers.
“I thought you said there would be food here. I didn’t realize you were making me learn which fucking fork to use,” he whisper-yelled at me before reaching for the cookie once more. The moment his fingers circled the perfectly-baked sphere, Mrs. Brodie swiveled in her heels to scowl at him.
“We’ll eat it eventually. You just have to let me eat first,” I giggled.
“Well I was hoping that it would at least be worth my while,” he growled under his breath before dropping the uneaten cookie back on the silver platter in front of him. I stifled a laugh.
I had to beg Rogue to let me take Clay. Despite everything, I wasn’t ready to completely let him back in just yet. At school, he walked proudly with me on his arm, growling at anyone that dared to call me “trash” or look at me wrong. And it was nice—don’t get me wrong. But just a week ago, it was him doing all those nasty things to me. And even though our bodies were more than ready to forgive, forget, and fuck, my heart was still a little gun shy.
He conceded, only because Godfrey called during the drive over here to say that they had a lead on a possible out on this whole situation, and since I wasn’t allowed to be alone, he allowed Clay to attend.
“This is such sexist bullshit,” Clay mumbled under his breath, and I had to hold back a laugh.
A slap between my shoulderblades reminded me to stop slouching and I shot up with sharp surprise. Mrs. Brodie was a hellion with that damn ruler.
“Why am I doing this again?” Clay asked while looking around the room. “None of these girls look even remotely fuckable.”
I bit back a laugh. None of us did, really. Part of being a Junior Debutante meant that we had to wear oversized, white dresses that weighed as much as we did while hiding our best assets. “A lady holds her head high, but never her nose, Miss Palmisano,” Mrs. Brodie sneered to Stephanie while stepping forward to shift the fork on Stephanie’s place setting a millimeter over, like the slightest crookedness of the silver could cause a world war.
“Are you going to tell me why I got a call from your not-boyfriend about keeping an eye on you today?” Clay asked while taking a sip of tea. He was holding his pinky up and looking ridiculous while doing it. “I thought you two were enemies with some weird sexual tension. Now you’re dating? Is he going to change his mind halfway through crumpets and kill me for being here right now? I thought he was gonna blow a gasket when he showed up at my place looking for you.”
I eyed Stephanie, who was sitting across from us and listening to our whispered conversation. The classes were being held at Mrs. Brodies’ cotillion class downtown. The venue was opulent and smelled like my late grandmother’s perfume, the tables had white tablecloths, designed to show if we dared to get a single crumb anywhere but our china plates. “We’re not dating. I don’t really know what we are. He’s possessive, but I don’t know if it’s because of some other shit going on or if he really does care,” I admitted quietly.
“What’s the other shit?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Mrs. Brodie exclaimed with a clap. “The essence of good manners is your conversational skills. Your job is to make others feel at ease in your presence.”
“God, do you think she’s ever had an orgasm?” Clay asked while staring at Mrs. Brodie as she circled the table. “Or is she just wound up for the fun of it? I bet she’s a dominant in bed,” he said way too loudly. “Mrs. Brodie slapped him between his shoulders with her ruler, and when he turned around to stare at her, she gave him a stern look...and then winked at him. “That’s hot,” Clay whispered once more.
A message came through on my phone, and I sneakily pulled it out of my dress pocket to look at it.
Rogue: After class, have Clay drop you off at the Salvador Bar
Me: OK
“Is there something intriguing about your crotch, Miss Livingston, or are you on your phone during my class?” Mrs. Brodie asked.
Damn. She was good.
We spent the rest of the class learning how to glide across a room as well as learning the appropriate noise level for polite laughter. It was exhausting, and at the end of it, I wondered if my lifelong dream of gymnastics was actually worth the trouble of attending this torture. I was never much for learning social cues or the rules for polite society. With the heirs, I didn’t really have to play by the rules. The world accepted whatever they did as law, because they demanded respect. They didn’t need dated traditions to feel powerful and poised. It was just who they were.
When it was finally done, I stepped into the bathroom to change into a sleek, all-black dress that hit me mid thigh and clung to my curves. It was long sleeved to fight of the autumn chill, but still sexy. I paired it with my knee high boots and black stockings. Gradually, I’d started to feel comfortable in my skin. I was no longer the tomboy who used to chase the guys around, and I wanted to dress like it.
I was just finishing up, combing my fingers through my long brown hair, when I heard a snide voice ask, “How’d you do it? You turn whore for them all and let them take turns?”
I turned around to stare at Stephanie. She was still in her white dress, and for a split second, I pictured how it would look if I broke her nose and got blood all over it. Red was my favorite color, after all.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied before checking my makeup in the mirror. I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible, but I also didn’t want to give Stephanie the impression that I was running from her.
“How’d you get them to like you again?” she pressed. “How’d you get them to like you at all? I never got why they were ever friends with you.” I detected a sense of longing in her tone that I recognized all too well.
We were alike in some ways, both of us craving the Heirs in ways we couldn’t understand. But unlike her, this wasn’t some infatuation for me. They were like my fucking air.
I cocked my head to the side and for a moment, I felt like Godfrey Taylor. I enjoyed how Stephanie’s brow dipped and the perplexed expression crossed her features. She was genuinely confused.
“Maybe I was never really out,” I said with a confident shrug. They weren’t trying to hide me anymore, right? What was the point?
She snorted in disbelief. “Right. Come on, Scarlett, everyone knows you’re just a toy to them. Hell, the whole world is their playground. You don’t mean more to them than I do. You’re just something they like to play with, but they’ll get bored with you just like they did before,” Stephanie said while closing in on my personal space. She smelled sickly sweet, and I hated that I associated her perfume with Godfrey.
“Well, Steph,” I began, while fluffing my hair one last time. I turned to face her with a wide smile. “I guess I’ll just enjoy having their interest while I can.” I winked for good measure and headed for the bathroom door.