“Ovie”—I drop my voice so that no one can hear—“youknowwhat I’m up against. When they find out about my power?—”
“They run.” She shoots me a cold glare. “I realize. But you haven’t even tried, Blair, and this family needs you to try.”
Time to change the subject. No, I don’t want to think about how Ovie is right. Yes, a wizard and maybe a werewolf have asked me out in the past six months, but what was the point? Once they found out about my curse, the relationship would end up dead on arrival.
“So, does anyone else know about Nana?” Seems like a perfect topic change.
“Addison,” my aunt says, watching the crowd.
I balk. “Addison? She never said anything.”
“Nana asked her not to. Probably so that she could stir up trouble without any of us knowing.”
“Oh, you mean with like the whole Storm Grayson thing.”
“Exactly.”
Nana stirring up trouble sounds just about right. In fact…I bet she’s the one who ordered those books for Devlin. She probably even asked Addison to have me deliver them.
Why, those two sneaks. Next time I see Addison, she’s going to hear about this—in a friendly, sisterly manner, of course.
Chelsea approaches, swinging a glass of punch. “So where’s Storm Grayson? Isn’t he coming? Oh, look, Nana’s trying to eat food.” Her eyes slide to Ovie. “I wish someone had bothered totell me that my grandmother was back from the grave and has more attitude than every hornet in a hornet’s nest.”
I snort. “At least you didn’t getthe talkabout how you’re disappointing your family.”
My sister clicks her tongue. “Shame on you. The night’s still young. My talk could happen any minute now.”
A laugh bursts from my mouth. Ovie drops her voice to a tense whisper. “It looks like I’ll be spending my entire night hiding my mother. I’ll be back.”
Ovie storms off to the refreshment table, which is surprisingly empty, where she appears to talk sternly to Nana, doing a lot of discreet pointing, while Nana shrugs and looks around like she’s an innocent lamb. That makes Ovie’s face turn bright red as if she’s about to explode. My aunt taps her foot and gestures to the back door. My grandmother’s shoulders sag as she realizes she’s been busted and has to leave the ball.
They both exit and Chelsea laughs. “This might be the most excitement we’ve had in forever.”
“Just wait till Storm Grayson arrives. Every woman in this room will throw themselves at him.”
She sighs. “Hopefully he’ll only have eyes for you.”
I scoff. “I could be so lucky.”
The doors to the ballroom open, and my heart leaps to my throat. Maybe it’s Storm!
Then the announcement comes. “Devlin Ross.”
Against every bit of my better judgment and common sense, my gaze searches him out.
He steps inside wearing a black tuxedo, white tie and with a white scarf draped around his neck. Nestled on his head is a black top hat.
A top hat.
Of course. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a black walking stick to go with it. Maybe he’ll burst into “Putting on the Ritz” and start tap dancing.
Oh, that would be fun. I would pay to see that.
Devlin vanishes his scarf and hat while surveying the room.
Even from this distance, he looks ridiculously yummy with his dark golden hair combed back, his chiseled jawline looking allchiseledand those hazel eyes scouring the crowd for whomever he’s searching for.
Which hopefully isn’t me.
