My god, was that a compliment? I tried to put my hand on his forehead, but he deflected me so hard that I ended up punching my fist toward the ceiling like a middle-aged man at a sports game.
It collided with acrunch!
“Ow,” I groaned, cradling it to my chest. At least it wasn’t the hand I tattooed with.
“What the fuck were you doing?”
“Trying to check for a fever, you idiot. I figured you must be delirious if you were being nice to me.”
“Please. That was neutral at best.”
“God, you’re such a bitch.”
Needless to say, the rest of the ride didnotgo well, and by the time we finally pulled up outside of one of the oldest, most stately buildings in the city, we were practically snarling at each other.
Theo got out first, tossing his keys to a valet and preceding me up the towering front steps. He must not have noticed I’d lagged behind, because he paused near the top and shot me an annoyed look. “Are you coming?”
“No, I’m just breathing hard.”
A nearby couple gasped.
The valet behind me wheezed with laughter.
Theo closed his eyes and pinched his nose, and I decided to take my sweet time reaching him because he seemed more on edge than usual.
A butler held the door for us, and we swept inside.
Theo frowned down at me. “Why are you so short tonight?”
“I got a blister from those heels on Wednesday, so I’m wearing flats. And I’m five-eleven. That’s the opposite of short.”
He glanced around, looking over the top of my head like I wasn’t there. “I’m sorry, who’s speaking? I can’t see you.”
“How have you not been dismembered by someone yet?”
“Uh?” a guy said. “Welcome?”
Oh. We’d reached the greeter.
Theo gave him our names, and together, we joined the party.
19
Tyler
Tonight’s society function was muchlike the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. Stella had warned me they all followed the same basic sequence of events—dinner, dancing, donations—but I hadn’t anticipated how quickly they’d start to blur together. Fancy clothes, glittering décor, mind-numbingly boring conversation. When it wasn’t infuriating. During cocktail hour, I’d overheard two men discussing their doomsday plans in hushed voices. One said he’d bought shock collars to control his guards. The other planned to abscond to his private bunker, ringed in land mines to keep interlopers away.
It solidified my belief that billionaires were food, not friends.
At least Richard wasn’t at this party.
I saw a lot of other semi-familiar faces, though.
“Don’t people get sick of seeing the same assholes over and over?” I whispered to Stella during dinner.
“No. They’re too busy trying to one-up each other.”
I lifted my gaze to the room around us, still coming to terms with the fact that this was a house and not a museum. Specifically, AJ’s family home, where he’d grown up. His parents were the ones hosting tonight’s event, though I’d only glimpsed them briefly through the crowd.
