Page 93 of Play The Game

What a dick.

The next day, Harley kisses me at the Maserati, pressing me against the closed door like he wants to imprint himself on my skin to keep me safe.

“Promise me you won’t go anywhere without Ash or Blaise. Promise me, babe,” he murmurs against my lips, ignoring Avery cussing him out from the front seat.

“I will. I promise. You need to be careful as well, Annabelle has signed up to help with the time trials so she’ll be stalking your ass the entire time you’re away.”

He smirks and sucks on my bottom lip, rolling it with his teeth gently like he’s trying to stop himself from eating me. “You own my ass, babe, she can’t have it. Send me photos of the dress and tell Morrison if he tries to fuck you at the buffet to outdo me, I’ll skin him.”

I blush and nudge him away, glaring at him while he opens the car door and tucks me in like he’s a chivalrous gentleman. Dread pools in my gut but I don’t know what it is that’s freaking me out so much, we’ve been separated before and there haven’t been any new threats.

I wave at him as we take off, Blaise blasting some techno crap just to get a rise out of Avery, but I can’t look away from Harley’s slowly shrinking form.

“What’s wrong?” Ash whispers, but I shake my head.

I’m being stupid. But I also trust my gut.

I flick a text to Illi to tell him we’ve left and then I try to focus on the conversation happening around me.

I hope I’m wrong, but that feeling tells me something fucking bad is going to happen.

That feeling says I won’t see Harley again.

TWENTY-NINE

The dress Avery puts me in is fucking ridiculous.

There’s so much delicate lace covering my arms and my shoulders that I feel like a fraud. I’m not a lace person; I wear booty shorts and band tees for fuck’s sake! Avery clucks at me like I’m an unruly child, and I sulk a little because why the fuck not? The slit up the skirt is a plus though, all the way up one thigh, making it impossible to wear underwear without revealing it. I quirk an eyebrow at Avery and she shrugs, smug as fuck.

One look at Ash’s eyes when I walk out and I remember why Avery is the evil dictator in power.

Blaise smirks at him, muttering about drooling, before kissing my cheek sweetly and holding an arm out for Avery to take. He looks sharp in the suit, the new ink on his hands and neck a statement to the crowd of higher society we’re about to walk into.

I’m so fucking proud of him.

Ash waits until Blaise and Avery move to the door before stalking over to me, his icy blue eyes stripping me, layer by layer, until I feel like he’s exposed my soul.

“Fuck the Gala. We’re staying here,” he snaps, and Avery snarls from the door at him.

“Keep it in your fucking pants! I’m here for Atticus and you promised me you’d be on your best behavior.”

His eyes squeeze shut like Avery is sucking the life out of him, and I scoff at him. “We can go down for an hour and then come back up. Blaise will probably drink like a fish and watch out for her.”

He glares at me for taking Avery’s side but tucks me under his arm anyway. Blaise shoots me these lusty looks over his shoulder and I know he’s doing it to piss Ash off, the little fucker. When we get to the elevator and step in, he says, “I’m not drinking tonight, Star. Atticus is a dickhead but he’s also a fucking pussy for Avery so we can leave her with him. I’m pulling that dress off of you.”

I glare at him, but Avery takes his comments a little harder than I do and stomps on his foot with her stiletto heel. He grunts and cuts her a look that has me cringing. She’s going to stab him. Or choke him out now I’ve taught her the best ways to do it.

“I’m taking you down, I’m bringing you back, you’re sleeping in my bed,” Ash says, breaking their intense face-off, his voice steely, and Blaise breaks eye contact to glare at him too. Ash nods like he’s won and the elevator door slides open, his hand curved possessively over my hip.

I feel a little like I’m walking on stilts and, although I’m not totally happy with the caveman glares Ash is throwing at Blaise right now, I’m grateful he’s holding me because I’m sure I’d be on my ass already without him.

Avery smirks at the sheep as we pass. It doesn’t matter that they’re all twenty-plus years older than us, they stare at her like she has an executioner’s order with their name on it.

I fucking love it.

It’s nice to see those looks directed at someone else and to know that I’m not alone in my infamy. Avery Beaumont has already carved a place for herself in high society as a force to be feared and reckoned with.

“I’m going to find Atticus. Blaise, you may as well stay here and dance with your girlfriend because I won’t tolerate your moping,” Avery says, smiling sweetly at me before she sashays toward the bar. They serve her, knowing full well she’s only eighteen, and Blaise trails after her.