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Trace straightened his tux jacket, and sat back, holding my right hand tightly in his.
After I had committed every piece of the limo to memory, I relaxed.
My nerves were beginning to bubble to the surface again and I took deep breaths so I didn’t get sick.
“Calm down,” Trace smoothed a thumb over my hand. “Everything will be fine. It’s just a little party.”
I snorted. I doubted this was just a little party.
My suspicions were confirmed, when the house came into view, along with a gazillion limos and town cars.
The circular driveway in front of the house, which I hadn’t noticed before, since it was hidden with snow, was filled with limos and cars pulled up to let guests out.
Our driver pulled up to the front and opened the door for us.
Trace slipped outside and held his hand inside the limo to help me out.
He drew me tightly against his side and nodded at the driver before walking inside the open double doors.
We followed the other guests to the massive ballroom.
The tables and chairs that had been stacked against the walls the last time I was here, were now set up with white tablecloths covering them, and white slipcovers over the chairs. A large area in the middle was cleared for dancing, which many people were taking advantage of, and a band played on the corner stage.
People that weren’t dancing, were either sitting, or walking around mingling.
“Thank God you’re here,” a voice said from behind us and we turned around to come face to face with Trent. “If one more person asks me about the holes in my ears I’m going to blow up.”
Trace laughed. “Guess you shouldn’t have gotten the gauges.”
“You have tattoos!” Trent cried.
> “So do you,” Trace shrugged. “Just ignore these people,” he indicated the whole room.
“Ugh,” Trent groaned. “I’ll try. But mom wants me to ‘be nice’ and ‘make connections,’” he held his hands up in air quotes. “Whatever the fuck that means. I’d rather be in my room. There aren’t even any hot girls here. Just stuffy old people with no sense of humor.”
“I feel you, man. But we have to do what we have to do,” Trace shrugged.
“Whatever,” Trent cracked his neck. “I hope you two don’t mind company, because I’m about to be a fucking leech and latch on, and never let go.”
“I don’t mind,” Trace shrugged. “Olivia?”
“I don’t care,” I smiled at Trace’s younger brother.
“Thanks,” Trent grinned and stood on my other side.
I felt even shorter than usual, despite the heels I was wearing, standing next to the Wentworth brothers.
A waiter with a tray of food passed us and my stomach rumbled. The cereal I ate earlier had done little to quench my appetite.
I eyed the food longingly and Trace chuckled. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I bit my lip.
Trace sought an empty table, and pulled out a chair for me, taking the seat to my right, while Trent took the one to my left.
We hadn’t been seated for long, when a waiter appeared with menus in hand, and glasses of water and champagne.
We each scanned the menu and made our choice out of the three options. I opted for the steak since it seemed like the safest option.
