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“Everyone, this is Hades,” Gracie says.

An annoying flicker of jealousy goes through me.

Is everyone paired up tonight except me?

I shove it down and give them a big smile. Presley is dressed as Morticia and Hades is Gomez. “Love the costumes.”

“Thanks.” Presley smiles at me.

I like her.

I think she and I will become friends.

A male voice yells, “Jesus Christ,” and the crowd goes silent. Hades mutters curses while Presley stares at the man who has just approached with interest.

Gracie shepherds us away. “Come on, I want to show you the dessert table.”

I follow the group.

But my mind isn’t on dessert or drinks.

It’s on a hitman.

The others continue talking, but I don’t hear them. I’m busy scanning the party for a certain tall, dark, and handsome man who fucks like a god.

No sign of him.

While the others head to the dance floor, I lie and say I need to use the restroom. Instead, I climb the steps, lean over the second-story railing, and scan the crowd.

Nothing.

I paste a smile on my face, hiding my disappointment as I head to the dance floor and shake my ass with those closest to me.

I see Violet give me a look, but I ignore it. She knows me too damn well.

For right now, I just want to pretend I’m having fun.

Fake it till you make it and all that crap.

The party drags on, but I’m not feeling it. There’s no way Roman’s here. I would’ve found him by now.

I’m debating what excuse to use to leave without raising Violet’s suspicions when Presley bumps into me.

She’s near tears.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you give me a ride home?”

“Of course.” I grab her hand. “I know a shortcut out of here.”

I cut through the crowd with a menacing expression, pulling Presley behind me. People take one look at my face and wisely get the hell out of my way.

Once we are outside in the cold, foggy night, I reach into the bust of my catsuit and hand her a tissue. She looks like she wants to ask questions as she takes it, but she wisely doesn’t, dabbing her eyes instead.

Once we’re in my SUV, I look over at her as I start the engine. “If you want me to run him over, just say the word.”

“Please don’t. I’m angry, but not that mad.”