A man in a stiff uniform steps forward, gesturing toward our coats, but Bree and I shake our heads. There won’t be time to come back for them, and we’ll need them outside. We follow Jase and Baz down a long hallway in the direction of the music. Light and laughter spill out of other rooms as we pass. I catch glimpses of people congregating in side rooms, drinking, snorting coke, and cavorting semi-naked in couples and bigger groups.
“Fucking Luminaries.” Ares snarls under his breath, taking my hand and holding it tight.
We enter the main ballroom where a DJ is spinning tunes on an elevated dais at the top of the room. To the left is a large bar, swamped with partygoers eager for the free booze. On the right, copious seating areas are curled around a circular dance floor. Beats thump out of humongous wall-mounted speakers, making conversation difficult. Waiters flit around the room with trays carrying flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.
“Might as well drink the bastard’s champagne,” Ares says, stopping a waiter and distributing glasses to me and Bree. Ares drains his in one go, snagging another flute before the waiter walks off.
Jase and Baz are talking to a group of guys and girls. A few of them look vaguely familiar from campus. A simpering blonde with massive fake boobs and a short, skimpy, strapless red dress is hanging off Jase’s arm, batting her eyelashes and smiling seductively at him. He shoves her arm away, paying her zero attention, as he talks to the guy in front of him. Undeterred, she clings to his arm tighter, winding her hand around his back to land just above his ass.
Excuse-fucking-me?!
“Hold this,” I say, handing my champagne to Bree. Slipping my coat off, I shove it at Ares before pushing my shoulders back.
“Go get her, tiger.” Bree’s eyes alight with glee as I stride toward the crew in front of me.
The girl doesn’t see me approaching. She’s too busy pawing at my man. Jase is trying to be polite, removing her hands every time she puts them on him. If we weren’t trying to keep a low profile, I’m betting he would be ripping her a new one.
But fuck not drawing attention.
I’m not going to stand by and watch some stuck-up Barbie wannabe hit on my man.
Grabbing the hand that is placed precariously low on Jase’s back, I dig my nails into her wrist as I pull her away.
“Get your hands off me,” she screeches, yanking her hand back. Whipping her gaze to mine, she plants her hands on her scrawny hips. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Your worst nightmare, bitch.” I move around so I’m blocking Jase at the side and facing off with her. “Do you always put your hands where they’re not wanted?” I cock my head to the side. “If any man did what you just did, women would be up in arms and demanding he be thrown out. What gives you the right to put your hands on any man without permission?”
She scoffs, her eyes roaming my body in a derisory fashion. “I don’t know who you are and why you think you can talk tomelike that, but you know nothing. Jase loves my hands on him. Isn’t that right, baby?” she purrs, licking her lips as she attempts to flirt with him over my head. My eyes narrow on her arm and chest, only spotting the flesh-toned patches covering her brandings because I know now to look for them and Bree and I are wearing them too.
So, she’s a Lum.
I couldn’t give a flying fuck.
No hussy is putting her hands on my man ever again.
“Nope.” Jase wraps his arm around my chest from behind. “If my removing your hands was too subtle for you, let me spell it out. You’re vile, Ember, and no part of me has ever wanted any part of you touching me.”
“I’m telling Julia. Where is she anyway?” She scans the room.
I want to shove my engagement ring in her face, but we can’t let that cat out of the bag yet, so I left it back in the limo. “Good luck with that plan,” I say as a tall man with silver hair, wearing a butler’s uniform, approaches.
“Gentlemen. Ladies.” He nods respectively at us. “If you could please come with me. Mr. Carter would like a word.”
ChapterTwenty-Five
Ashley
My palms are sweaty as I walk in between Ares and Jase, following the butler as he leads us through the mansion toward my father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I thought he wasn’t going to be here. If he has summoned us, I hope it’s not because he’s discovered our plan. Pain slices across my chest at the thought we may not be leaving with Chad. To have him so close and yet so far is unbearable. I can’t leave him in that bitch’s clutches any longer. I don’t know how to convince my asshole sperm donor to let him go, but I’m hell-bent on giving it my best shot if that’s what he wants to talk to us about.
Jase squeezes my hand as he stares straight ahead, offering what little comfort he can.
The butler stops at a closed thickset mahogany door, rapping on it three times before the command is given to come in.
Jase and Baz share a look as the door is opened, and the butler ushers us inside. My brow scrunches as we step into the room and are confronted by Knight Carter—Rhett’s son and heir and my half-brother. My shoulders relax a smidgeon, but it doesn’t mean we’re not in danger. We don’t know Knight’s motives or his allegiances or how close he is with Rhett. Tension bleeds into the air like a tangible substance as we line up in front of him.
Knight is alone, standing in front of a roaring fire with his hands clasped behind his back. Like Jase and Baz, he’s clothed in a custom-fit tuxedo. His dark-blond hair, identical to the shade of his father’s hair, is gelled to perfection, and he carries himself completely still. “That will be all, Benson. Thank you.”
“As you wish, sir.” The older man backs out of the room with a bow, closing the door behind him.
