Whatever. This wasn’t worth the fight. I nodded and redirected. “That’s a good point,” I lied. She relaxed an inch. “So the only people who can get into the VIP area are the Gold and Platinum Circle members?”
“And their plus ones,” she said with an eyebrow waggle, back to her usual bubbly self, as if all tension had dissipated.
Fuck. I glanced up at the ceiling, as if to God himself for assistance in this sea full of demons. “And let me guess: Roman Graves would be one of those Platinum members?”
Maisy nudged me, taking a champagne flute from a floating server. I thanked the man on her behalf, as Maisy left him unacknowledged.
She giggled. “Nowyou’re getting it.”
Where the hell was Wes? I was starting to worry. I hadn’t expected him to take this long to find me—or for me to find him.
No sooner had the thought of Wes being in some kind of trouble crossed my mind did I catch a glimpse of a tall man with snake tattoos in one of the downstairs rooms. A threesome was happening on a canopied bed, but Wes was on the opposite side of the room, his back turned to where I’d entered.
I stopped my approach the moment I saw he was talking to a petite woman in a delicate pink lingerie set. She looked emotional, her big blue eyes teary as she spoke to him with exaggerated hand movements.
It looked like a lovers’ quarrel.
All the times Wes had scanned a room, as if looking for someone, came rushing back to me. Was this girl the mysteriousanswershe’d been searching for? Was she who had tipped him off about this place? Or who he’d been meeting in the diner?
I couldn’t be sure. All I was certain of was that instead of finding me in the past two and a half hours we’d been here, he’d foundher.
The woman placed a hand on his shoulder, her brows drawing close. Wes hung his head. I had the distinct feeling I was witnessing something I wasn’t supposed to see. Something heavy and personal and revealing, a side of himself he’d refused to show me.
Perhapsshewas why.
My heart sank. Her eyes met mine.
I turned and left the room. In the hall, I asked a man in a jeweled chest harness where the auction would be taking place. My throat was tight, a heaviness pressing against my heart.
“Grand ballroom. They’re gathering the volunteers right now,” he said. He looked me up and down and snapped in approval. “Slay.”
“Slay,” I echoed mournfully.
22
NOVA
Isat with a group of young women and men behind a dividing curtain in the grand ballroom, where I assumed rich people galas were held when they weren’t hosting kinky sex parties.
“Absolutely not,” I said to Jayne. “You can give my age, but not my height and weight. Hard limit.”
She pressed her lips together. “Anything else you want me to highlight to the crowd?”
I pondered for a moment. “Yeah,” I said with a strong nod. “Tell them in addition to their charitable donation, my father will also be requesting a dowry of twelve cattle and eight acres of land.”
Jayne blinked. “I will tell them you’re twenty-five and a writer with a colorful sense of humor.”
I sank back in the chair and gave a nod of defeat. She moved on to the next volunteer.
Maisy was gossiping nearby. I kept catching phrases here and there—Hamptons fiasco, summer home, wife is here, fake-ass salt daddy.
My gaze unfocused, letting the words float past like clouds over the horizon. Seeing Wes with someone else had taken thewind out of my sails. Part of me was ready for all of this to be over.
Even if a different, more frightening part felt like my quest was only just beginning. I’d only scratched the surface—of this mansion, of this world, ofmyself.
The jealous ruminations were unrelenting. Each unanswered question I had about Wes was suddenly glaring, making every moment of chemistry and tension we’d shared acutely painful. I felt stupid for willfully forgetting what he’d said at the diner—that his intention was to part ways as friends.
And I felt even more stupid for thinking that, in the car, he’d been trying to tell me he’d changed his mind.
