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I was certain I wouldn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched four men scuffle and jostle one another as they seemed to play some sort of game, betting one another on the women they could hook up with.
It was pathetic, really, that the future leaders of the world stood in this room acting no better than high school boys who didn’t know how to fuck properly yet. I remained still and quiet, conscious only of the fact that my dress seemed to rise slightly with each shifting movement of my body.
I felt his hand press to the small of my back, his one palm spanning my entire frame, causing my fingers to clench against the stem of my glass in an involuntary movement. It wasn’t desire coursing through my veins. It was restraint. Restraint to not simply shatter my glass and slide the broken shards still attached to the stem in his goddamn eye.
Instead, I turned my head coyly as if I were flattered by his attention - flattered that a man like him - aSocietyman - would be interested insomeone like me. I smiled demurely, knowing full well that I was giving him a Malibu Barbie grin in this Texas heat. As men went, he was handsome, in that groomed expensive sort of way. But he was stilltoo clean-too kept, with that sense ofwrongnesslurking beneath the surface. It was that sense that had me wanting to scramble away from him - that had me clutching my glass as I wished I had the foresight to strap my knives to me. But the dress had beentooshort -tootight, which only meant that I needed to become more creative because I didn’t want to be stuck alone in a room with this man.
He chuckled at my speechlessness, the sound dark and filled with sin. It was a practiced sound, one that was supposed to put women at ease. Instead, it filled me with dread.
“The name’s Paul.” He brought his lips to my ear, his breath fluttering against my neck, and it was all I could do to not jerk away from him. I hummed my reply, hoping that I sounded pleasant - intrigued, even.
“Aren’t you one of the men playing that game with your friends?” I felt his hand squeeze against my spine as I voiced my question because, while my tone may have been flirtatious, my words told him that I knew exactly what he was up to - knew that he and his friends were collecting hook ups.
“You caught me.” He grinned unabashedly, the white of his smile making him more handsome somehow. “You going to play with me, doll face?” His lips heated my neck once more as he leaned into me, his cologne overpowering me in a way that had me steeling my shoulders. He was dominating, only I didn’t want to be dominated - at least not by him. Instead, I kicked my chin up, feigning hurt. “I fought hard for a position within The Society.” I spoke quietly, but I knew he heard me - could tell by the intake of his breath. “And I’m not about to lose the little standing I have by being another notch on your bedpost - no matter how handsome you are.” It was as close to the truth as I could give him. It was the only line that might win his respect,andkeep me playing the game. He chuckled, not in the least bit insulted. “Can’t argue with that.” He paused as if considering his words, but I knew that he already had his next four moves calculated and ready to dish out. “At least let me buy you a drink.”
Paul Mae. I knewexactlywho he was. His father virtually ran the army. Orarmies. And somehow, he had bestowed the title ofGeneralupon his son. It was an insult to military men because the man before me wasn’t made of the kind of steel needed to control men in dangerous settings. I knew the game he was playing, and I was forced to play along, meeting his move head on.
“Sure.” I nodded demurely. Because refusing a drink would only serve to raise suspicion. He flagged the barkeep, gesturing towards my nearly empty glass, indicatinganotherpink drink.
Good God. How many of these awful drinks would I have to suck down? Still, I smiled my thanks. And when my drink was placed in front ofhimand not in front ofme, I pretended to check my phone - pretended tonot seethe powdery substance Paul slipped into my drink. This was his modus operandi - how he bagged the women he did, because I doubted his performance kept them returning. No, he used his status and when he was turned down, he simply doctored their drinks to ensure that theirno’sturned toyeses. Or at the very least, silence.
I slid my phone back into my bag as I reached for my new drink. “Thank you.” I looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with that rich boy mischief as he shrugged in reply. “Don’t you have a game to get back to?”
This time, he grinned fully, showing off those pearly whites of his that were supposed to put you at ease. “If you change your mind, doll face, you know where to find me.” He winked at me, taking two steps backwards, his gaze dipping once towards my drink, encouraging me tosip. Could he get any more fucking cliché.
I smiled softly before turning back towards the bar and making a show of sipping on my new beverage, when, in fact, I drank absolutely nothing.
I needed to dump my drink because I couldn’t leave it at the bar - couldn’t hand it back to the barkeep either because then Paul wouldknow, and I wasn’t quite ready to show my hand.
Which left me with one other option.
I lifted my drink and made my way towards the restroom - away from the bar and the crowd.
Chapter Five : Intimate
Mack
Iknewwhattoexpect - knew the drill when it came to The Society and their penchant for parties. Not the kind of parties I was accustomed to back home, the kind that required suits and cocktail dresses. The overpriced champagne flowed seamlessly, and every snippet of conversation I heard was some or other version of a cock measuring contest. My gaze swept over the room until I finally settled upon Aria. We moved in the same circles - hung with the same crowd, even if she was still too innocent -too Societydriven for my liking. But better the devil you knew.
Aria wasn’t the devil, but her innocence and blind fucking following made her a liability, and in this world, I needed to keep my cards close with the least amount of liabilities around me, taking Aria straight out the running for me. Besides, as pretty as she was, she wasn’t my type. I couldn’t imagine her standing in the pub kitchen in her Manolo Blahniks.
I pressed my shoulder against hers as I stepped into her space. Our height difference forced me to look down upon her, and even in this setting, I could appreciate how pretty she was - how utterly bred she was for this life.
“How’s the hangover?” I allowed a little bit of my Boston accent to seep into my question, reminding her - even if she wasn’t aware - that I wasn’t fully part of this world. Sure, I grew up attending all the right schools, learning all the skills I needed to blend in with this crowd, but that didn’t make me one of them.
Aria didn’t seem to pick up on it - the girl was that fucking oblivious. I watched in fascination as she tipped the champagne glass to her lips, swallowing down the bubbly liquid. Her lips parted, her throat bobbed, and a small strand of her hair hung in her face. She was every man’s wet dream, and she probably didn’t realize she had been born for one sole purpose - simply to belong to one of The Society men here.
“Nothing some Tylenol and a nap couldn’t cure.”
I listened to her with half an ear, my gaze scanning the room as I took in the crowd. I didn’t know what I was looking for until I saw it - sawher. But there she was, stumbling out of the bathroom in a dress that hugged her like a second skin. It wasn’t a cocktail dress, not by any means, but then I was starting to believe that everything this girl did was deliberate.
The bright pink dress fumbled across the room, her feet unsteady as if she had had too much to drink.
“Looks like your date may need some assistance.” Aria’s voice brought me back to the present, reminding me that I wasn’t the only person watching the girl in question. Aria probably assumed she was my date because she had seen us together at orientation, when the truth was far more laughable because I was pretty sure the girl in the pink dress was my enemy.
“Oh yeah.” It was the only agreement that I could give that didn’t tip off my confusion. The girl could throw a knife better than some of my cousins, but couldn’t hold her liquor? Something didn’t add up. I pushed away from Aria, muttering a quick, “Shit, I’ll see you later,” before I was on top of her, my hand sliding beneath her arm in support.
