Terrance all but teleported next to me, gesturing for people to let us pass. Finally, we made it through the double doors to the main hall, away from the vultures.
The next phase began—the schmoozing. I greeted, complimented, flirted, faked interest, had to cut off conversations that would have interested me, smiled, smirked, laughed, and drank, wishing the alcohol had any effect on me whatsoever.
People who wouldn’t have looked at me twice just months ago were trying to get a piece of me, and I was pondering the ugly side of fame. Carlos, my manager, was over the moon.
Even Paris Olivier approached me. The best-paid omega actor in the industry, hauntingly beautiful, decidedly single, and one of the most influential people in the room, came tome. He congratulated me on my upcoming premiere most charmingly and added in a low voice, “Welcome to hell, Lothair. Keep moving so you don’t burn your feet.”
“Lucky for me, I can fly,” I said.
“Oh, I saw. What’s the fine these days?”
“No idea. I have an escrow account dedicated to those things.”
Paris curved his lovely lips. “Prepared for everything, are you?”
“In hell, we must be.”
Maybe I imagined the flash of kinship in his eyes, but I suddenly felt like we got each other.
“Good luck.” He patted my arm and turned away, his entourage of security detail closing him in.
“You’re in, Lothair,” Carlos murmured when Paris was out of earshot. “You’ve made it.”
I just wanted to go home. “It’s hot in here.”
But my manager simpered like a used-car salesman. “Mr. Fortune himself just gave you a kiss on the cheek, so smile, boy. I saw at least four cameras flash your way when Paris spoke to you. I’ll see if I can get his agent on the phone and set up a nice dinner somewhere public for the two of you. Keep your Thursday and Friday evenings free next week.”
Did he just suggest I fake date Paris Olivier for publicity? “I bet Mr. Olivier has better things to do.”
“Don’t underestimate your charm, Lothair.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when Carlos fluttered to the other side of the room, his greedy gaze on the group dominated by Allan Caspian.
“I used to think I was an extrovert,” I mumbled for Terrance’s ears only. He stood behind me, and the music was loud, but as a shifter, he would hear.
“Aren’t you?”
“Extroverts gain energy from peopling. I’m exhausted.”
“Maybe it depends on the kind of peopling you’re doing.”
“True.”
“We can just leave.”
Just then, Allan Caspian caught my gaze from across the room and smiled. He began moving through the crowd, with Carlos jumping around him like a terrier.
“I’m afraid we’re stuck here for a while longer. Caspian’s headed my way.”
Terrance grunted but didn’t say anything. I knew he disagreed, but he had no idea how this business worked.
When we finally climbed intothe car, my jaw ached from the excessive grinding of my teeth.
“To the Rosebud Club,” I told my driver.
Terrance turned around from the passenger seat. “What?”
“Afterparty,” I said.
