“Well, Daniel here?—”
“Cries when he cums!” Avery cups her mouth to shout. Holding a hand up against the glare, Sharon squints out into the crowd and demands whoever is ruining her auction to come forward. I shrug down in my seat, dragging Avery down with me until our noses are level with the table. Many of the guests around us are shifting uncomfortably, the wooden knock of their paddles being put down. Most of the Lots seem to have understood tonight isn’t happening for them and stopped bothering to come out, except for one.
Taylor, aka Top Knot, steps onto the stage confidently, widening his stance and crossing his arms in a dare for anyone to challenge his reputation. His cock is thick, hanging freely, and even I strain for a better look. I’m only human after all. It’s no wonder plenty of guestsaround us sigh dramatically, clearly familiar with him, and Sharon smirks knowingly.
“Ahh, Taylor. Now here is a young man no one can dispute against. He has a perfect track record for satisfaction, always goes the extra mile, and is especially well-equipped, if I do say so myself. Since it’s been a slow evening, we will start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars.”
Every head of those sitting around us spins around sharply, waiting for approval to bid. So many pairs of eyes are pleading to be given the all-clear, but it’s not me that responds to their questioning stares.
“Oh yeah, sure. Best night of my life,” Avery calls out, much to the delight of every woman around us. Their shoulders sag, and they share relieved smiles. A few paddles start to rise. “Until he went on top for sixty-nine without telling me about his rectal condition. I’ve never been able to get the smell of shit out of my nose.”
An uproar of cries and gagging gives us the perfect cover to duck out. Slipping the rest of the way to the floor, we crawl beneath the tables and jump a low wall. The grassy bank beyond slopes, sending us skidding towards the pavement at the bottom. I manage to catch Avery before she breaks her ankle, stomping to a stop with my chunky combat boots.
From there, we casually stroll around the edge of the mansion, enjoying a little bit of quality time together. Every time Avery glances at me, we fall into hysterics again, drowned out by the sounds of screeching tires and the blaring of car horns. Guests seem to be in a rush to leave now that the party is over. Hand in hand, we enter the main entrance just as Sharon steps into our way.
“You little shits,” her lip peels back in disgust as she assesses my outfit. “I told you to stay out of the way. You must think you’re so funny.” I shrug and nod. That’s exactly what I think.
“Life’s all shits and giggles until someone giggles and shits,” I agree. Avery snorts loudly. Deciding to ignore me, Sharon pushes her way through us, trying to control the amount of people leaving with her fake smile back in place.
“Please, please come back inside. This is all a misunderstanding, I assure you.” We leave her to it, gliding back towards the ballroom to complete one big circuit. Annoyingly, there are still plenty of guests present, those who were sitting inside the ballroom being too far awayto hear our warnings. Through the center, a pair of green eyes carve out a path towards me.
“Oh, hey, Riot. What did we miss?” I ask as he approaches, Dax trailing just behind. His glare is deadly, although it bounces off me like water rolling off a duck’s back.
“Don’t try that bullshit with me. You nearly messed everything up for Hux.” Wyatt’s head tilts aside, guiding my attention to where Hux is currently hand-feeding Warren a grape, his suit very much still intact. I force another shrug, despite Avery’s hand going tense in mine.
“Sorry about that. As much as I’d love to see Huxley do a naked parade around a ballroom, Avery here wasn’t feeling as generous.” Wyatt’s lips press into a thin line, his sharp green eyes darting between Avery and me. I know that look. Controlled fury. It’s the same look he gets before a game and, evidently, mostly every time he looks at me.
"Hux has been stressing about tonight all week, and you almost blew it because you can’t sit still for five minutes." Wyatt exhales through his nose, his patience clearly running on fumes.
"Almost." I counter, flashing him my most disarming smile. "But I didn’t. And look, our boy’s still in one piece and fully clothed. Mission accomplished, right?"
Before Wyatt can retort, Dax places a firm hand on his shoulder, his calm energy tempering the storm brewing in Wyatt’s chest. “Let it go,” Dax mutters. “It’s done now. We need to focus.” Just then, his pocket starts to vibrate, and he steps away to answer the call. Wyatt visibly reins himself in. His attention shifts to Avery, and his glare softens a fraction.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Wyatt finally says, his words aimed at both of us but are clearly meant for her. Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd, Dax trailing after him like a silent shadow.
The tension lingers in the air, thick and suffocating, as Avery exhales shakily beside me. Her grip on my hand loosens, and I glance over to find her staring at Huxley, her eyes swimming with concern.
Hux has moved to stand by the far wall, Warren leaning casually against it, gesturing animatedly with his whiskey glass. Huxley looks composed, nodding along at the right times. But we know him too well. The slight tightness in his jaw, the way his hand clenches and unclenchesat his side, the tiny cracks in his façade are all too apparent to me and Avery.
And then it happens. Warren tilts his head toward the exit, his lips curving into a predatory smile. Hux doesn’t hesitate. He pushes off the wall, his movements fluid as he leads Warren toward the hallway, away from the crowded ballroom.
As they pass, Hux’s brown gaze flickers to Avery. It’s brief, just a split second, but the weight of it is enough to make her freeze. His face is unreadable, but his eyes tell a different story. There’s a bleakness to them, a silent acknowledgment of the risk he’s taking. Avery swallows hard, her fingers twitching in my hand. I don’t need to look at her to know she’s holding back tears. And for once, I don’t have a joke or a quip to fill the silence.
Huxley walks off with Warren, his shoulders squared, his steps steady. But the farther away he gets, the heavier Avery leans against me. I wait a few minutes, ensuring no one is watching before I spin her into my arms and hold her tight whilst she cries into my shoulder.
“I’ve got you, Peach. Everything is going to be okay,” I promise without any reason to justify it. I seriously hope Huxley has thought long and hard about the lengths he’ll go to for whatever information he’s seeking, because some dark corners of our minds are impossible to come back from.
Chapter Thirty Six
The ballroom hums with low-murmured conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The chandeliers dim, casting a gentle golden light as music begins to play through the hidden speakers. Slow, sensual tones, no doubt meant to encourage dances of the same nature. Sharon may not be here, but she’s still managing to manipulate the evening.
Those still with companions couple up and take to the center of the dancefloor, and it becomes apparent that over half of the Lots are left out. They line the walls, scowls etched into their faces as they glare at Garrett and me. The man on my arm puffs out his chest, the leather jacket separating ever-so-slightly to hint at the tattoos beneath his mesh top. A part of me blossoms with pride, this being the closest he’s ever come to showing off the muscled body he hides. But that part is sadly overshadowed, my mind remaining elsewhere.
For the hundredth time in five minutes, I glance back at the open double doors. Whatever is happening, Huxley is still firmly out of my reach, and I don’t think I will rest until he’s back with me.
Wyatt notices, of course. He’s been watching me closely since we rejoined him and Dax by the window. His sharp, green gaze is rooted on my face, but he says nothing. Dax is pretending he’s not checking me out, but the PVC catsuit on my body fits like a second skin. My cleavage isscandalously exposed, and a sliver of misery cuts through me as I think how much Meg would have approved.
I twist to look out the window, although nothing greets me but darkness.Breathe, Aves, I hear Meg’s voice in my head. You’re getting close. It won’t be much longer. I wish my mind’s tricks worked, but they do the opposite. The chasm between myself and my twin has never felt so vast. And Garrett being Garrett, he’s decided the best way to keep me from spiraling is to keep my hands full. Literally.
