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“Wonderful.” She beams, looking a little Stepford wife-ish in her bland excitement. “Dress will be semi-formal.”
“Uh, okay.”
She returns to the living room as the three of us head upstairs. As we walk down the hall toward our bedrooms, I shoot a glance at Chase. “Not that I’m complaining, but why on earth would she want me there?”
He rolls his eyes. “Probably so she can show you off just like us. We’ll go down at six, and she’ll brag to all of her friends about what schools we got accepted into and what honors we’ve gotten this year.”
“And she wants to brag about me too?”
“Well, not brag, per se,” Dax throws in. “More like make herself look good by flaunting how she’s taken you in.”
“Oh, she took me in?” I arch a brow.
“As far as all her friends probably think, yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s just another game they play for social standing. Pretty much everyone in their circle knows about your mom and about Iris’s death. But most of them consider you an innocent victim in all of this, so it’ll make my mom look good to say she’s taking care of you.”
“Wow. Okay.”
I pull a face. As if I didn’t already feel enough like an animal in a zoo, now I’ll probably have people staring at me all night with sympathetic looks on their faces.
We have a bit of time before dinner, so the three of us crash in the large rec room downstairs and do homework, sprawled together on the couch in comfortable silence. At five, I go upstairs to shower and change, opting for a dress and leggings since I’m not quite sure what “semi-formal” means in this context.
I meet the guys outside my room, and we go down together. Guests start to arrive at a little after six, and they’re ushered into a large ballroom by the house staff. It’s such a familiar scene that it’s giving me acute déjà vu, and I have to shake off memories of helping mom greet guests at the Black house.
This won’t be quite as big of a gathering as those cocktail parties though. The Lauders’ dining room table is huge, big enough to comfortably seat thirty people, but that’s a far cry from the guest list at the Black family parties.
Lincoln and River’s parents are invited, and the boys com
e with them. Audrey and Samuel won’t even look at each other. I remember how they used to act all lovey-dovey in public, even if they’d just had a massive fight—but I guess the days of pretending are pretty much over.
I find Linc and squeeze his hand as the adults all head over to the bar, which is being manned by one of the house staff.
“You okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. At least they both care about their reputations enough to act civil around other people. It’s not—”
But I never get to find out what it isn’t. Before Lincoln can finish that thought, his gaze flicks to something behind me, and his whole body stiffens.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I turn around, and my stomach clenches.
Fuck is right.
Judge Hollowell is walking across the room, arm outstretched to boisterously greet another dinner party attendee. His smile is broad and open, and when he reaches the man, they shake hands and clap each other on the shoulder before heading to the bar together, deep in conversation already.
Shit. Shit. I should’ve known he’d be here. I should’ve asked.
I could’ve pretended to be sick, turned down Mrs. Lauder’s invitation, and spent the entire evening locked away in my room. Maybe I can still do that. I can slip away and have Dax or Chase make my excuses for me.
But before I can move, Hollowell’s gaze flicks around the room, stopping when it lands on me. He looks a little surprised, but then he smiles and dips his head in a small nod of greeting.
I stretch my lips into a stiff smile and nod back.
“Goddammit. We didn’t know he’d be here, Low. I swear.”
As Dax speaks, he and the other three boys gather around me in a tight knot, like they’re trying to physically protect me from the judge.
Shit. This could go downhill so fucking fast.
