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His palm lands on the elevator button and obsidian doors open.
“Where are we going?” I bend to look up at him but the mirrored walls surrounding us sway beneath my feet. My hand flies out to keep me steady. “I’m not joking, War. I hate you. That part was too far.”
His chuckle rolls down my spine. “What was? The part where I’m—” The weight of his body forces me against the mirrored wall, as the warmth of his lips trace the line of my cheekbone, stopping at the corner of my mouth. “—not gonna worship the ground you walk on, because I know that the legs doing the walking, would much rather be spread open and fucked?” All the air leaves my lungs. He did not just say that. “Hmm? That part?”
He nips at where his lips rested against mine, using his palm to push off the wall. In the absence of his vehemence, I draw in a deep breath. The doors split open, allowing music to replace the vicious energy of his words.
Frozen in place, panic replaces all else when I realize he’s taken me down to the basement that was reconstructed to a showroom-style garage. Using the entire space from the foundation of the Castle, this is where every car is kept until our houses are built.
Using the first ever EKC private jet as the center piece of the setting, ivory lighting outlines the collection of cars that surround the satin black Learjet 23. People dance around them, almost swiping the paneling of Priest’s McLaren. Anxiety knocks me off my feet when I think of any of these idiots damaging War’s LaFerrari, Vaden’s Hennessey, or any of Priest’s collection of JDM cars, since they’re here until his monster of a garage is built.
Whose damn idea was it to allow this party to expand to down here? I can feel my anger wavering as the alcohol leaves my body. The fist of sobriety pounds against my head, hammering me back down to earth.
I hate him for real this time.I don’t care how horny he makes me. Regardless of how I’m following his steps as he leads me through the open space, or that my fingers are back to being intertwined with his.
“War. We need to talk.” My chest collides with his back when he stops walking. Clearly, one of War’s past conquests have found him out and about.
He releases my fingers, and that crippling anger is back because,excusethe fuck out of me.
Stepping around his mountain of a body, my mouth opens to cuss out whoever the fuck is on the other side, when I pause. Forget cussing, I’ll just straight swing.
“Katsia?” My arms cross in front of myself. For her own safety. “A little far away from Perdita, isn’t it?”
Her brows hit her hairline in surprise, her stare bouncing between us. She settles back on him. “Anyway, I need you.”
“Busy—” He moves her out of the way with his arm, and we hadn’t taken two steps before her next words stop him.
“Ineedyou, War…”
My chest hits his once more and I raise my arms around a loud huff, my annoyance obvious. What the fuck is he doing?
His head turns over his shoulder lazily, whacking a stray skull balloon that floats up between us and glaring at her over my head. Both muscles on each side of his jaw tense. “Fuck.”
He pushes me out of the way with that same arm he did to her, knocking my balance.
I follow his movements as he grabs her by her arm. “If you walk away from me right now, I’m fucking done with you and these games!” With blatant neglect, he ignores my words. Theystep into the elevator and right before the doors close, Katsia angles her head over her shoulder with a swift smile, shifting her copper hair over her skinny shoulder.
The humiliation of tonight weighs heavy, keeping my feet cemented in the spot. I can’t fucking believe he just did that.
My hand finds the latch of the collar around my neck. I force it off, before stumbling to where his blacked-out RX4 is parked. Guards flare over the cambered wheels, as I plant my ass on the hood, swiping up a stray bottle that’s sitting on the ground.
My fingers tangle through my hair, moving the mass of waves over to the side. My eyes wander before my mind does. Groups recording videos, dancing, and yelling. A big part of me hates that they extended the area to somewhere so sacred like the garage, but another part of me—the bigger part right now—wants one thing.
Revenge.
War so publicly used me like I’m one of his lapdogs that fawn over him. No. I’ve clearly misread the situation for too long. My mistake. I won’t waver off track again.
“Penny for your thoughts?” A deep voice startles me from my heat of rage.
I jerk up to see Billy the Puppet watching me with eager eyes.
My head tilts. “No pennies here. Just hundred-dollar bills.”
He chuckles, closing the distance between us while burying his hands in his pockets. Tailored slacks hang off his hips, leaving his chest bare. He saddles up against the wall directly opposite, flashing a rolled bill.
“Like this?”
My eyes bounce between his. “Maybe.”
