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“Shut up.” I punch his arm, knocking him back a step as I pass him. I walk to where my shopping bags are laid out on the bed and pull out the matching necklace. “Will you help me?”
He nods with a warm, cheeky smile, and I can tell he wants to say something. “You look incredible, Scar. So grown up.”
“I’m twenty-eight years old. When will you and Dad stop treating me like a kid?”
“You’ll always be the baby. This dress is very… hmm…”
“I’m twenty-eight years old, Mason.”
He lifts the necklace over my head and works at fastening the clasp. “The slit is a bit high, and the bust is busty. I once read something about women showing ass or tits but never both.”
“Likely written by a penis-wielding, sexist pig. But I am proud you’re able to read full sentences now. Also, what part of my ass is out?”
“It’s not, but that slit is very high.”
I turn and give him a look.
“You look beautiful, Scarlet.”
“Thank you, Mason.” I smile sweetly, happy that the look conveyed what I intended.
Who are you to tell me what to do, brother?
“The guys are here; thought you might want a drink before we leave. If you’re not still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you, Mase.”
He nods and lifts his hand. “Shall we?”
I grab my bag and slide my hand into his. We leave the room and take the stairs to the ground floor. As I reach the bottom step, Elliot’s voice floats from the entertainment room.
“There she is!”
I smile as I duck down to look through the double doors which are pulled wide open. Charlie is standing at the bar with a drink in his hand, and Elliot is leaning against the pool table, the look on his face one of knowing yet proud. It makes me feel good.
“Fuck, Scar,” Charlie says, much to my surprise. He’s the politest of my brother’s friends and probably the one I trust most to look after me tonight.
“Right,” Elliot agrees, still watching me. “If you weren’t like a little sister to me, I’d totally admit to looking at your tits right now.”
I chuckle and go to him, pulling him in for a hug which he welcomes. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey.” I pull back and look at him. His blond hair, blue eyes and wicked smile that I’ve missed. It reminds me. “Your mum misses you.”
“Don’t I fucking know it.”
He lets me go, and I turn to say hello to Charlie. But then I catch something shifting out of the corner of my eye, and I spin around again to see Lance sitting in the corner of the room.
Everything becomes a little bit more. My heart rate, the sharpness in my spine, the quietness in the room, the music—as if it’s a part of me and this moment and not just a speaker fixed into the ceiling above me. His eyes dance over me, unforgiving and unafraid.
I swallow. “Hi.”
Lance dips his head as if it’s greeting enough before lifting his drink and taking a sip. His eyes remain on me.
It’s a hungry “I want to rip that dress off you” look.
Conflicted between turning away from the green-eyed gaze in the corner of the room and potentially revealing the scarlet flush that’s burning its way up my chest, or staying facing the green-eyed gaze, revealing to him the power he seems to possess, I choose to do neither. I beeline for the small bar and lean over to kiss Charlie’s cheek. “Charles. Wanna make me a drink?”
I hear Mason and Elliot talking at my back and breathe a sigh of relief, my eyes moving back to Charlie. He’s smiling as he reaches for a glass. “Sure. But I’m privy to the knowledge that Sullivan makes a killer cocktail.”
