Page 165 of The Heart You Kept

“Woman,” he scoffs. “Just so you know I am not leaving with you, that’s why. I don’t want it to get to 4 a.m. and it looks like I’m ditching you in the spur of the moment. Totally premeditated.”

“Let’s go to the bar.” I smile as excitement runs through me, I grab their two hands. “Oh my god this is so exciting,” I whisper as we weave through the crowd.

“Fucking hell,” Helene whispers. “Here comes the blow tray again.”

“Hi.” Thomas waves at her. “How nice to see you again.”

“This place is insane.”

We get to the bar. “My treat,” Thomas tells us. “What do you want?”

“I’ll have a margarita.”

“Me too.”

“Me three.”

Thomas lines up and I glance over to the entry and see Philippe and Stefan come through the doors, they immediately walk over to the corner and up to a line of men standing along the wall. They laugh and shake hands as if they’re long-lost friends.

“Who are they talking to?” I whisper to Helene.

“I don’t know.”

My eyes linger on the men. “Oh, they’re bodyguards. But who are they….” My eyes dart around and then I see it. In a roped-off section on a raised level are low slouchy leather couches around big low tables. And right in the middle of the action sits Prince Theodore.

“Oh my god,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Prince Chapelle is here.” I gesture to him with my chin.

“What?” Helene’s eyes nearly bulge from their sockets as she sees him. “What the hell is he doing in a place like this?”

I giggle. “Snorting coke and watching gold head jobs, apparently.”

Thomas reappears with a tray of margaritas. “Here you are, my loves.”

“Thanks.” Helene takes a sip. “The fucking prince is here.”

“He is?” He smiles as he takes a sip. “How deliciously scandalous.” He looks around. “Where?”

“Over there.” I subtly point.

“Oh.” His eyes linger on the group of men. “He’s with the Kingsmen.”

My eyes flick between him and the group of men. “Those are Edward’s friends?”

“Yep.”

“Ha.” I feel the confidence drain out of my body. “If they come here, that means Edward comes here.”

“Uh-huh,” he replies.

“Who’s who?” I ask, I met some of them before, but who are the others?

“Okay so, the dark Greek god is Nicholas Anastas.”

“He’s the gay one?” I ask as I watch from the shadows.