Page 153 of Heartless Sinner

“Trust me, this is the last place I want to be.” I tugged her forward, noticing Stan getting antsy a few feet ahead of us.

“Why are we here, then?”

“Because.”

“That sure doesn’t answer my question.”

“Wasn’t supposed to.”

We passed two VIP rooms before I recognized the one designed to mimic my father’s office.

I covered the side of my face with my hand as we walked past, but curiosity had me peering through my fingers.

Three married senators sat around the U-shaped couch with women on their laps. None of them were their wives. One had his hand shoved so far beneath a redhead’s dress that I rolled my eyes.

Family values, my ass.

Stan finally stepped outside our room. Two security guards stood on either side of the door and stepped aside for us.

I looked inside. Eight people.

Good. I preferred a smaller crowd.

Unfortunately, those eight people looked determined to consume enough drugs for eighty.

Bottles and mixers covered the table, squeezed between lines of coke and an assortment of pills. A girl danced barefoot across the table, waving a bottle of champagne over her head.

She spotted me, and her heel slipped. She collapsed straight into some guy’s lap and immediately dissolved into giggles.

“Hell yeah!” He hooked an arm around her waist and dragged her farther onto him. “I love it when chicks fall for me.”

I already hated everyone here.

“You made it!” Rachel jumped off the couch and hurried toward me.

She’d changed out of the gown she’d worn at the White House. Now, she wore a skimpy black dress that could’ve doubled as a cleaning rag. The fabric was purposely shredded down the middle, with one of her tits close to falling out.

Rachel looked happy to see me until she noticed the woman standing at my side. Her smile vanished.

“And you brought someone.” Her mouth puckered as she gave Daphne a slow once-over.

Daphne stiffened beside me but still managed to paste on a smile.

“I did.” I hooked an arm around her waist and wrenched her closer. “This is Cersei.”

Daphne tried to pull away, but I only gripped her tighter.

Rachel’s brows drew together. “Cersei?”

“Like the brother-fucking Lannister?” Some guy wearing a bright yellow polo shirt yelled from the couch, slurring half the sentence.

I cringed.

Shit. I’d forgotten about that part.

During the ride here, I’d come up with a fake name for Daphne. Cersei.

Daphne and I used to watch Game of Thrones together on FaceTime. She’d always claimed Cersei was “batshit crazy but slightly understood.”