I feel his lips press against my damp forehead, my energy levels depleted, my eyes unable to open.
“Don’t stay in here too long,” he whispers. “You’ll prune.”
I force my eyes to open, and with a puzzled frown, I glance up at him. “Are you leaving?” He smiles down at me, his hard cock bulging out of his pants. I reach over to offer him some relief, but he moves away. “What are?—”
“This wasn’t about me, darling,” he says, tilting his head as his gaze skims my naked, spent body. He sucks in a sharp, stabilizing breath. “Sleep soundly tonight, Emery. We’ve got a big couple of days ahead.”
I frown. “Days?”
A cunning smirk lights up his face. “Goodnight, darling.” He turns around to exit the en suite but stops before the door. He cranes his neck over his shoulder, eyes darkening as he adds, “Don’t touch yourself while I’m gone.”
I swallow and brazenly ask, “Or else what?”
He chuckles under his breath. “I’m not Cavanaugh, darling. I won’t punish you like that.” I narrow my eyes at him, slightly put off by the mention of Damon’s name. How does he know? “But I have other ways to make you suffer.” My brow perks up, and he lets out a laugh. “I like that about you, little Emery.” His voice fades as he exits the en suite. “You’re just so damn curious.”
When the door shuts, I stare up at the coffered ceiling. I stay in the tub for what feels like hours. Thinking. Attempting to decipher what he meant. All I know is that he’s right. I am curious. So fucking intrigued.
The evening breezeblows through Sophie’s room as she tilts my head up, sweeping another layer of soft nude glitter across my eyelids. Music, chatter, and the occasional laugh sounds from downstairs and dread washes over me. As soon as she’s done with my makeup, we’ll have to join them. My social battery is already half drained.
“Hold still, Emery,” Sophie says. “You’re very twitchy tonight. I’m almost done.”
“Where’s Quinton?” I ask, inwardly wincing. I haven’t had a chance to see him for more than a couple of minutes all day. Several guests arrived early, and like a good host, he had to entertain the donors.
“Probably with Will and Charles,” Ella pipes up, the stench of her cigarette making me reminisce. “It’s best we take our time. The real party doesn’t start until the business is handled.” She releases a heavy sigh. “Although, I cannot fathom how watching a three-hour long play counts as a party. Sounds dreadful to me, really.”
“There!” Sophie exclaims, taking a step back as I open my eyes. “Perfect.” I glance into the mirror and blink. I look like a disco ball. “Stunning, aren’t you?” I offer her a grateful smile. “Well, shall we go then? Lots of hands to shake. Daddy hopes we surpass last year’s donations by five million.”
Ella scoffs. "Hopes? You know we will. Charles is like a shark when it comes to these things." She stands up, butting her cigarette out in the ashtray. “Let’s get this over with.” She opens her clutch and removes a tiny vile with white powder inside of it. She sprinkles a little on the outside of her thumb and snorts. When she catches my stunned gaze, she rolls her eyes. “Judgeme all you want, Emery, but the children don’t arrive until the morning, and I intend to capitalize on their absence.”
“I’m not?—”
“Enough,” Sophie interjects. “Let’s go.”
As Sophie and Ella lead the way downstairs, I take a moment to remind myself that I am capable of navigating small talk. Granted, small talk for this particular social circle refers to luxurious trips and absurd stock market gains. I’ll just smile a lot; that tends to keep the peace.
The grand ballroom comes into view, and a flurry of anxiety grips my chest. It’s all so…extravagant. Crystal chandeliers. Roses. Champagne. Diamonds on every neck. I draw in a steadying breath, the melodic notes of a live orchestra floating through the villa. There are hordes of guests, all dressed like kings and queens.
As soon as we hit the bottom of the stairs, Sophie loops her arm through Ella’s and says, “Enjoy yourself, Emery. Have fun, okay?”
And I’m alone, with dozens of eyes glued to my every move. My knees lock, and I seriously contemplate running back upstairs and crawling into bed. But then I catch a glimpse of Quinton in the crowd.
I let out a strained breath, relaxing as I take in his magnetic presence. Quin stands tall and poised, his dirty blonde hair perfectly styled, his tuxedo tailored to his every contour. The dim lighting casts shadows that highlight his strong jawline and bright blue eyes.
God, he’s handsome.
My gaze shifts to the stunning older woman by Quinton’s side, and my jaw slightly clenches. Her long, shimmering gown hugs her curves in all the right places, her blonde hair tousled and perfectly messy. Her fingers graze his arm as she leans in to speak to him, her laughter like nails on a fucking chalkboard.
As if sensing my glare, Quinton whips his head toward me, his amused gaze locking onto mine with a combative look. The woman snakes her arm around his as they approach me, like a pair of sly little panthers. My spine straightens out, and I’m hyperaware that my fingers are tingling.
"Emery," he says, his voice a deep, velvety rumble that irritates the shit out of me. "You look absolutely beautiful." He nods to the blonde on his arm. “I’d like you to meet Vivienne Delareux. She’s an old family friend. Vivienne, this is Emery Jones. My guest this Christmas.”
“Oldfamily friend?” Vivienne’s thick French accent catches me off guard. She gives Quinton’s shoulder a flirty smack. “There is nothing old about me, Quinton. How very rude.” She shoots me a sultry smirk. “Doyouthink I look old, ma chérie?”
“Not at all, Vivienne.” I muster a polite smile, extending my hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you."
Vivienne hums under her breath as she gives me a weak handshake. "She’s a little timid, this one." She looks me up and down, her gaze assessing, and I resist the urge to throw her an uppercut. "But I can see the appeal."
Quinton chuckles softly, his eyes lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. "Don’t let her fool you, Vivienne. Emery is hardly timid."
