Page 173 of Gilt

Jameson’s hands bunch my flimsy skirt around my waist as he presses his body against mine. “That’s the right answer, Duchess.”

When Josie arrives an hour later, I’m in a much better mood. The party doesn’t start for another hour, but she’s already dressed in a slinky, red wrap dress. The mask she’s chosen is the same brilliant crimson.

“Va va voom!” I exclaim when she parks herself in the kitchen. Monroe’s made it clear that I’m not to touch anything. I’ve been cut out of the party planning entirely. Instead, I’m stealing nibbles from the food trays.

Josie holds up her mask so I can see the two tiny horns protruding from the top. “I’m going for she-devil.”

“And winning,” I assure her, offering her a tiny sandwich from a fancy, silver platter.

She takes one and pops the whole thing in her mouth. Then she gives a thumbs up. “You didn’t tell me this party was going to be so…”

“Over-the-top?” I suggest.

“Actually I was thinking seriously. Passed hors d’oeuvres and champagne. It’s a little different from…” she trails away as horror slackens her face.

“We thought we’d try something a little different.” I shrug my shoulders to show she hasn’t wrecked the evening by mentioning that the only other party she had been to here was on the night of the murder. I, on the other hand, crashed another a few weeks later, but only by accident. Those parties had been the equivalent of a rich kid’s kegger, not the dressed-up event we’d concocted this evening. Maybe the subterfuge aspect had appealed to Monroe on some personal wavelength. Either way, she’d gone out of her way to make this a memorable evening, and if I had my way, it would be even more so. “Or Monroe did, at least.”

At the mention of her name, the blonde flies through the kitchen like a demonic fireball. “Have you seen the menu cards?”

Josie and I help her search until we’ve tracked them down. She hardly notices that Josie is here, even after my best friend discovers where the cards have been put.

“She’s crankier than usual.” Josie purses her lips thoughtfully, and I can’t help but realize that she has a point. Monroe is acting strangely.

“In all fairness, I used blackmail to get her to throw this party,” I admit.

Josie links her arm through mine. “Do tell.”

It isn’t my secret, but the gossip is too good not to share. I’ve kept Monroe’s hidden life quiet from her family and friends. But Josie isn’t her family or her friend. She’s mine, and I trust her.

“Promise not to tell,” I ask.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Josie slashes her fingers over her chest for emphasis.

I dish the dirt in whispers. Josie’s eyes widen until I think they’re going to bulge out. When I finish, she shakes her head. “You must have been pretty scary?”

“Why would you say that?” I’m a bit offended by the idea.

“Because she’s acting like her whole life is riding on this. She must be worried that you’re going to rat her out.”

There’s no reason Monroe should believe that. I’d used the information I’d had as leverage, but if I’d wanted to tattle, I would have done so. I make up my mind to keep a closer eye on my adoptive sister this evening. After all, she’s not the only one with a lot riding on tonight.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

No one is late to the party. When the doors ceremonially open at 8:30, every student at Belle Mere Prep is waiting. Security does a decent job weeding undercover reporters from the crowd, but my heartbeat speeds up as I survey the group of strangers before me. Behind their masks, I can’t recognize any of them, and I realize without their masks, I wouldn’t know most of them anyway. The uppermost floor of West Casino has been transformed into a golden playground. Ropes of sparking lights drip from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that feels out of place in the modern setting. Dozens of white roses dipped in gold leaf are staged strategically throughout the space.

“It’s gorgeous,” Josie says as she comes up beside me.

“It’s gaudy,” I correct her. “Actually, it’s nouveau riche.”

The whole scene screams wealth and debauchery. Monroe has made her point. In the future, if I’m going to fit in I might try to do so with a bit less theatricality.

“What?” Josie asks.

“Inside joke,” I say dryly. I haven’t had the heart to tell Josie how much money Hans put in my trust fund before he went upriver. Between my relationship with Jameson and everything going on in her private life, I don’t want the gulf between us to widen any further.

“When did that happen?” she shrieks. I follow her finger to find Hugo and Leighton entering, hand in hand.

Leave it to him to be the only person late to the party of the century. Behind my mask, I study the way Hugo hovers near Leighton. I can’t imagine what it took to convince him to let her come back here. Not after she’d nearly died. Glancing over, I realize I can’t even tell which window we went through. It’s been repaired—erased as if it never happened.