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CHAPTER32
Owen
“Who the fuck are you looking for?” Sterling asks, adjusting the bow on his tuxedo for the nineteenth time. “Are you expecting some hot piece of ass to materialize? This isn’tCinderella.”
I would never admit it out loud—especially to Sterling—but I almost wish it was. I only watched the movie once when I was a kid, but I remember the gist of it. Guy meets girl, guy loses girl, guy sets out on quest to find girl—and it involves a glass shoe for some reason. Girl arrives at the ball, and guy and girl are reunited.
There was something about a pumpkin too. Maybe they had pie?
I grab Sterling’s joint from his mouth and take a long tug at it. “How long do we have to wait out here?”
Liam huffs. “Until our balls have frozen off.”
“Yeah, well, that’s your cross to bear, buddy,” Sterling says, giving Liam a friendly pat on the shoulder. “But the rest of us don’t have to lose a testicle just because your fiancée hates you.” He looks around at me, Oz, and Wilder. “What do you say we go hit that open bar where it hurts?”
We’re all in black tuxedos except Liam. Apparently, Ada forced him to wear white because it sets off her skin or hair or some bullshit. And he’s worried he’ll be freezing his balls off out here? I think he should check and see if they’re still attached. I have a feeling Ada’s got them stashed in her fucking purse.
I must admit, the event organizers did an excellent job this year. It’s custom for the Dance of the Fireflies Ball to be held in the courtyard of Pinecrest University.
In the center of the courtyard, the event organizers built a massive, tented dance area on a low platform. The trees surrounding the area have been strung with hundreds of red and orange fairy lights that twinkle randomly against the black of night.
We’re standing on a path that leads from the front entrance through the now-empty cafeteria, and out into the quad.
“You go,” I tell Sterling. “Someone’s got to be here to perform the amputation once the frostbite sets in.”
Liam lets out another bitter grunt. “Fucking bitch.”
The other Royals are already walking away, Sterling’s arms thrown over the other two as he leads them into the cafeteria. Just before they step inside, they each pull down their red-and-gold masks.
The ball’s traditional masks cover just the eyes—a molded strip of red satin dotted with hundreds of tiny black beads in intricate, swirling patterns. Black to represent the coal, red the fire.
Liam takes another drag of his cigarette before crushing it out under his heel. “She wants me to quit,” he says quietly. “Says I can’t keep smoking around her once we’re married.”
“I suppose you’ll live an extra decade or two if you listen to her.”
“Yeah,” Liam says through a dry laugh. “But who the fuck would want to live longer when they’re married to a cunt like her?”
I turn my back on the walkway and the cars lining up around the university’s circular drive. We have a clear view of all the people entering the campus, but we’re far enough out of the way that no one has to swerve to go around us. Even so, I lower my voice so no one can eavesdrop.
Many of the people glance at the two of us when they walk past. Nights like this, gossip spreads like the fucking Bubonic plague.
“You know it’s not written in stone, right?” I murmur to Liam. “No matter what they say, your parents can’tforceyou to marry Ada.”
“Yeah?” Liam’s eyebrows twitch as his mouth twists into a grim line. “You think there’s someone better out there for me, Dalton? You think I’ll be walking in the street one day and happen to spot my soulmate?” Every word is laced with acidic spite. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken with him. The first time since Evie moved to town, in fact. I didn’t realize he was feeling this low.
“It’s obvious you’re going to be miserable with her,” I say, ignoring the soulmate quip. “So, why settle down now? Tell your parents you want to take a year to travel or something. Maybe you’ll meet someone better in Europe, or a different state?”
“That might fly with your folks, but trust me—my father’s not done using me yet.”
I want to argue, but after the talk I had withmyfather the other night, I know Liam and I are in essentially the same boat. As much as I hate being compared to him, we are both bound by tradition.
Still, I’d like to think he’s got alittlemore wriggle room than I do.
“He can’t hold a gun to your head, Liam. Just tell him—”
Liam rams a finger into my chest, drawing close, until we’re almost nose to nose. “My trust fund,gone. My seat at Bailey Inc.,gone. Do you really think I’d have put that fucking rock on Ada’s finger if I had achoicein the matter?”
I suddenly feel sick to my stomach. “Liam… I had no idea—”
