Page 78 of Twisting Beauty

The thought sat heavy as I curled my hair into flowing waves with a wand.

But I had no choice. The same day after I’d announced I wasn’t going to his stupid party, Finn had walked across the quad rousing everyone’s attention and had personally invited Nuala to come. Nuala had lit up like a child promised fireworks. And of course, she had begged me to go with her.

I kept circling the same suspicion, that this was one of Lorcan’s games. That somehow, he wanted me here, used Finn and Nuala to get me here. Which should have been reason enough to stay away.

But if Nuala showed up here alone, it would be like throwing a kitten into a wolf’s den. I couldn’t do that to her.

A knock at the door pulled me out of my thoughts. I crossed the room and opened it to an empty corridor. A box sat on the floor at my feet, unmarked except for a folded note tucked beneath the lid.

Wear it.

No signature.

But I knew who’d left it here for me.

I picked it up carefully, stepped out into the corridor, and looked both ways. It was empty. I carried the box back inside and set it on the bed.

I lifted the lid, and the breath went out of me.

Purple silk, so deep it was nearly violet, caught the lamplight in a slow, shifting shimmer. I lifted the dress out carefully, turning it in my hands. It fit at the waist and fell into a flowing skirt, elegant and exact. Pale-purple crystals were worked into the fabric, a scattering of them, catching the light like something alive. And at the back, draped from the shoulders, two panels of silvery purple silk fell in soft folds, barely there, like folded fairy wings.

It was exactly what I would have picked.

I stood in front of the mirror holding it against myself and couldn’t find a single thing to object to. Beneath the dress in the box, a silver mask lay nestled in the tissue paper, delicate and precise.

Unease threaded through the pleasure of it. Because how would Lorcan know what I would pick?

This dress was something I would have hunted through vintage shops for, something that belonged in my wardrobe, not Rua’s.

Rua would never wear something like this.

He couldn’t know that. He shouldn’t know that.

The low murmur of a woman’s voice drifted into my bedroom, too loud and too clear.

My gaze snapped to the high vent above my desk. Light was spilling through the ornate grate. The vent cover was gone.

I stared at the grate. When had he taken the cover off? Had he been watching me through it without me knowing?

A stupid thrill moved down my spine.

I crossed to my desk, heart thudding against my ribs, needing to know who was in there with him.

Ugh, why did I care? Just go back to getting ready.

But then she giggled, her voice low and seductive and something sharp went through me.

Before I could stop myself, I had climbed up onto the desk so I could peer through the vent. Cool air licked my cheek as I leaned closer.

“Finally, I get a look at your bedroom…” Aoife sauntered across the room, her red skintight dress flicking out from the giant slit in her thigh. Her eyes flicked over the black wood furniture, the unmade bed, the shadows in the corners. “So dark. So masculine. So… you.”

My jaw tightened as something hot and unpleasant twisted low in my stomach.

Lorcan didn’t look up from where he leaned against the desk, rolling a cigarette with deft fingers. “You can wait downstairs with the other guests who arrived early.”

“Don’t play hard to get with me, baby.” Aoife’s giant chandelier diamond earrings caught the lamplight as she took slow steps toward him, hips swaying. “We were good together, remember?”

He didn’t move. “Not good enough to make me forget what a bitch you are.”