Page 95 of Trust the Fall

Hushed voices in a hidden alcove draw my attention. I would recognize the male’s voice anywhere … River.

“You look beautiful.” His deep, throaty timbre gives away his desire for whomever he’s with.

“And you, River, are handsome,” a woman says between giggles, sounding like a young girl. But it’s no young reaper. It’s Camille.

I don’t need to have had more than ten minutes with the woman to know without a doubt it’s her.

“We shouldn’t be here. Not like this,” she whispers.

“I’ve hardly had a moment alone with you,” River groans. “You’ve been surrounded by doctors and chancellors since my return. I need this one moment of peace and quiet with you.”

“This isn’t the time, River. We shouldn’t … not with⁠—”

“I don’t give a fuck what we should and shouldn’t do, Camille. I want you,” River’s voice rises, and Camille shushes him.

I can only guess she quieted him with her mouth as neither one speaks for several seconds.

“I’m growing tired of this game,” River growls.

“And what game is that?” Her teasing lilt, flirtatious and inviting, tells me all I need to know. She isn’t really trying to deter him. If anything, she’s tempting him.

My word, what have I stumbled across?

I need to get the hell out of here. I might throw up on the spot if things heat up. This is my mother, after all. The last thing I want is a front-row seat to a very private moment. One that I’m sure would completely traumatize me. For the rest of my life.

“The one where you play coy and pretend that you don’t want me as much as I want you, Camille. Admit it. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. I can smell your arousal.”

Good. God. Help me move away from this spot.

My feet are rooted in place like some sort of voyeur, and I hate myself for not walking away before now.

“We can’t, River.”

“Like hell. You want me. You want us,” he says, and then it happens.

The dam breaks and they give into the pull. The sound of their moans and lips smacking together rips at my ears and turns my stomach.

They’re not even being careful about being caught. The alcove they’re in might have them out of view, but I stumbled across them and uncovered their identities easy enough. Do they have no shame?

A whimper from Camille finally snaps me into motion and I’m rushing away from the whole torrid act like my ass is on fire.

Well, at least they’re giving in to whatever temptations they’ve been fighting. It can only mean good things for me. Perhaps now my thick-headed mother will get it through her skull that River is not the man for me.

This will be easier than I thought. Meet the kingdom, request an audience with my mother, and get back to Luke, where I belong.

I push through the large ornate doors into the ballroom.

The opulence of the room has my jaw nearly on the ground. Gold and white cover the surfaces as far as the eye can see. The floors are white marble swirled with gold flecks. White tulle chiffon curtains hang in waves from the ceilings, creating a cloud effect. Twinkling white lights run along the material covering the ceiling and down the walls, creating a blanket of fairy lights that glow in the candlelit room. It’s romantic and picturesque.

Reapers flit around the room engaging in conversation. Some dance and some eat, but most stand around idly, appearing far too excited for these festivities.

When my eyes land on Cat’s, hers widen, and she rushes toward me.

“Victoria, what are you doing here? You were supposed to arrive on River’s arm. That was a direct order from the queen.”

I snort. “I don’t think the queen is too concerned about what I’m doing,” I say, and Cat’s eyes narrow in confusion laced with a hint of curiosity at my statement.

“Never mind,” I say, waving it off. I don’t want to air my mother’s private business. “I got tired of waiting around. This dress is heavy, and I want out of it. The sooner we get this show on the road, the sooner I can be out of it.”