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“Now,thatis how you make an exit.”
Bitty glanced over to the sound of laughter. Mharta had thrown her head back, her hand resting at the base of her throat, her red nails like spots of blood dotting her jugular. The female was spectacular in her own LB without the D, and Bitty had to envy all that confidence as she didn’t seem to worry about how much cleavage she was showing or how her body looked in that catsuit.
Then again, if you shrink-wrapped a Michelangelo, it wasn’t going to look like a sack of potatoes.
“We’ll take care of this right away,” someone said.
“Here, we should let the staff get by. Bitty? Come over with me.”
Shaking herself to attention, she nodded at Lyric. “Oh, right. Yes.”
Actually, no. Not right. The humans, two women and a man dressed in blue uniforms, were on the approach with buckets, mops, and a rolling blue trash bin to take care of a mess they hadn’t created. The fact that there seemed to be a team for these kinds of things didn’t matter.
We should clean up after ourselves, she thought.
“Hey, Bitty, how you doing?”
As Rhamp stepped in front of her, she turned to him in a daze. The male was so similar to his father, Qhuinn, tall and broad of shoulder, with black hair that was pulled back by a headband and bright green eyes. He was good-looking for sure, and clearly an aristocrat, especially with the diamonds in his earlobes and the swagger that was as much a part of him as his impeccable bloodline. But he’d always been kind to her, as if he understood the reasons she was prone to being anxious.
Maybe one of his two sets of parents had told him about her history. She wasn’t going to ask for details, though.
“Hi,” she said to him, flushing.
“It’s good to see you.”
“I, ah… I got a new dress.”
“You sure did. C’mere and hug me.”
As they embraced, she glanced over his shoulder and stiffened at the sight of the male whose warrior body was sprawled on the sofa, his knees wide apart as if he were daring anybody to challenge how big his balls were: L.W. was the only one who hadn’t jumped up when the drinks had gone flying.
His eyes were on Bitty. And he didn’t look away from her.
He never did, and she’d never understood it. And for someone who flustered easily, the last thing she needed was to feel criticized for breathing.
Especially by someone like him.
“You good?” Rhamp asked as he eased back.
“I’msoglad you’re here,” Lyric announced, her warm, easy smile a relief. “I’d ask you if you want a drink—”
“But we know how the first round went,” her brother finished for her.
Bitty laughed a little. Tugged some more at her hem.
“Don’t you look great.” Mharta’s eyes narrowed. “Fab dress.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” That calculating stare went up and down. “It’s not your usual thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
Other people came over and said hello. She recognized Shuli, of course. And there were some more males she’d seen around from time to time—not that they were in all that big a hurry to get too close. Like L.W., they hung back, giving her a nod or maybe a raised hand, but otherwise refusing to get involved.
Looked as if the window dressing wasn’t fooling everybody.
What followed was a loitering that felt interminable, all of them standing around—except for the future King—as the cleanup happened. Which really didn’t feel right. And then there were drinks to replace the ones Nalla had trashed.
