My stomach lurched. “Absolutely not.”
The farther we walked into the room, the harder I squeezed Brody’s arm. Three massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the walls dripped with green ivy entangled with tiny twinkling white lights. A black podium stood at the front of the room, rigged up with a microphone, teleprompter, and a lighting setup powered by enough juice to cause a citywide blackout. It was pompous, over-the-top, and fit Lilith Harcourt Donovan to a T.
“Oh, my children have arrived! Brody, don’t you look positively dashing.”
Speak of the devil.
I slowly turned to see my mother air-kissing both of Brody’s cheeks. Her heavily beaded gown crunched as she moved, while her teased blonde hair remained unflappable. Once she released her hold on him, she rushed toward me, grabbing my hands and linking our fingers like we were best friends.
“Leighton, darling! I’m so pleased you could make it.” Holding both our arms out, she swept a shrewd glance down my dress and forced a smile. “Don’t you look...unique.”
My mind flipped through the English To Lilith Translation Manual I’d penned over the years, quickly translating the true meaning of unique.
Ah, found it. It means whoretastic.
Uniquely whoretastic was exactly the look I was aiming for when I walked into the adult store yesterday and perused the exotic dancewear rack. It didn’t take long to find the picture-perfect outfit for tonight’s celebration—a shiny fire-engine red pleather tube dress that squeaked when I walked and fit me like a microgrip condom.
“Do you not like my dress, Mother? I spent all day shopping for it.” Just to be a shit, I bit my bottom lip and managed to tear up a little, thanks to four years of useless acting lessons.
“Of course, darling. You look very...youthful.”
Note to self: add youthful to unique synonyms.
Brody excused himself, like the rat bastard he was, just as a tuxedoed waiter approached with a silver tray of champagne flutes, so I gratefully took two. Mother stared at me expectantly until finally taking her own and sending him away with a swift flick of her wrist.
“Looks like another lucrative turnout.” Downing half the champagne in my right hand, I waved the left one around the room. “Kudos to whichever of your minions managed to acquire a list of 1099s to cultivate the guest list.”
“That minion would be me.” The haunting voice from my nightmares drifted over my shoulder and whispered in my ear. “But I only had to kill a few IRS receptionists to get them.”
Finn’s smile never quite reached his eyes, but my mother laughed anyway while cupping his clean-shaven face, careful not to muss his perfect Ken doll hair. “Oh, Finn, don’t tease her. You know how she gets.” Waving to a local senator and his wife, she smiled without breaking character. “Bob Pittman certainly seems to be enjoying the open bar tonight. I think I’ll seize the opportunity and say hello. I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.”
“Mother, wait!” Before I could take a step, she was already air-kissing Bob Pittman with dollar signs in her eyes.
The smug shell I wore cracked as soon as my stepfather shifted around to face me. Roving his eyes leisurely down my dress, he took the extra glass of champagne out of my hand. “Champagne is meant to be sipped,” he chastised, raising the glass to his lips. “Savor the taste on your tongue, so you’ll remember it long after you finish the glass.”
I chugged what was left in the glass I still held and traded it for a full one from a passing waiter. “Go to hell.”
“Leighton, don’t you think after all this time we should bury the hatchet?”
“The only thing I’m going to bury is my knee in your balls if you don’t get your hands off me.”
“What’s happened to you, sweetheart?” he asked, running a finger down my arm. “You’ve become so angry. Relax, it’s a party. I think this would be a perfect opportunity for your big announcement.”
“What announcement?” His confident tone set warning bells off in my head.
“The one we discussed at dinner the other night. Your little secret, Lil’ Bit.” Moving his hand from my arm to my chin, he held it between his fingers and forced my eyes on him.
Hearing him call me a name so sacred did something violent to me. If we were near a table, I would’ve slammed my flute against it and held the jagged edge against his jugular. “Don’t ever call me that again. That was my father’s nickname for me.”
“You let Brody use it.”
“My father’s blood runs in his veins, not yours.”
“Do you really want to debate genealogy here, Leighton?” Releasing my chin, he gestured all around us. “I’m sure there are a few people who might find the subject fascinating.”
He wouldn’t dare risk tarnishing his wife’s precious image. No, he wanted me to cower, so I did the exact opposite.
“I think you’re bluffing,” I said, pushing my shoulders back. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. However, your lack of intelligence aside, you don’t have the balls to deal with the public fall out.”
“Walked away unscathed once.” Winking, he cupped my neck and drew me against him while pressing his lips against my ear. “I can do it again. Watch yourself, Lil’ Bit.”
I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe as he pulled back and flashed his devil-may-care smile. It wasn’t until someone called his name and he walked away that I unlocked my knees and gasped for air.
He touched me again.
Goose bumps littered my skin, and I shook so hard champagne sloshed over the rim of my flute onto my shoes.
Warmth. I needed warmth.
Downing the glass, I reached for another one, the effects starting to hit me as the room tilted. I didn’t give a shit. I felt like I’d been locked in a freezer with no way out.
Then I felt it.
Heat.
Not warmth, but scorching, intense heat. I glanced up and scanned the room for a glimpse of his dark clothing, finding nothing but open checkbooks waiting to kiss my mother’s ass. However, the more I searched, the hotter I felt. Mateo was close by. He watched me like he promised, and whether right or wrong, it was the only thing keeping me sane.
If I wasn’t so on edge, I would’ve laughed.
A criminal protecting a criminal from a criminal.
Just a day in the life of a Harcourt.
After two dances with Brody, my mother whisked me away toward a small group of people Finn was currently entertaining. Before I could protest, she’d introduced me to at least four different men, announcing to each of them that I was new in town and single.
The more men I met, the more champagne I drank. Soon, the room spun as much as I did and the heat blazed down on me igniting a firestorm. It wouldn’t be long until Mateo intervened. I felt his anger. It had long passed a simmering boil and was ready to explode.
I bowed out gracefully. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you all, but I really have to be going.”
“What’s your hurry? Stick around, there’s someone I want you to meet.” By the time I spun around, Finn was already dragging me toward a man in a wrinkled gray suit standing near the edge of the dance floor. I blinked a few times trying to focus when he faced me, dipping his dimpled chin in acknowledgement. I stumbled, allowing myself only a sharp inhale.