AllFreeNovel
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“You’re going to have to lose the underwear for this dress.”
“I’m not going out without underwear.”
“Panty lines are a fashion faux pas,” Rose points out from the bed where she’s now lounging.
“Put the dress on,” Camille says pacifyingly, “then decide.”
She helps me into the dress, cool satin sliding like water against my skin. I turn to the mirror, but she stops me with an arm.
“Hold on,” she says. She pours three messy shots and hands them out. “Alright, girls. Shots for good luck on three. One, two, three.”
I drink my shot, more to soothe my nerves than anything, and wince at the burn of alcohol and the taste of tequila. Ihatetequila.
“Alright, you can look.”
I turn to the mirror. The dress is a simple A-line shape, but the laced back is low, almost to my hips, and the skirt is so short it stops right at the top of my thighs.
“See?” Camille says, propping her chin on my shoulder. “I told you red could be your colour.”
Camille can be a liar sometimes, but not this time.
The colour of the dress—the deep, lush red of garnets—perfectly offsets my skin. The laces make the dress hug my waist and hips, the short skirt lengthening my legs.
I turn, admiring myself, marvelling at how different I look. My first thought is of Zachary’s reaction, and I almost jump when Camille laughs and says, “I can’t wait to see Zachary Blackwood’s face when he sees you.”
Rose gives a wicked giggle. “It’s going to be the face crack of the century.”
Camille nods eagerly. “Bishop Blackwood is finally going to break.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. “Come on, Theo, lose the undies, girl. Don’t you want to drive him a little bit crazy?”
“You two are so immature,” I say.
But when we set off for the party later, I’m not wearing my underwear.
Whenhefinallyseesme, Zachary doesn’t give me the satisfaction of a face crack, let alone the face crack of the century. He simply lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head as if in a silent question.
I raise my glass to him across the crowd. This time, the party is in the chapel—one of the Young Kings must have coughed up a substantial bribe to get their hands on the key.
It feels a little sacrilegious to be getting drunk and dancing to loud, pulsing music under the blank eyes of the candlelit statues of saints, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping anyone.
Camille pulls me along with her, and I lose sight of Zachary.
“Forget him!” she yells in my ear over the music. “He’s got a stick shoved up his arse anyway. Let’s find some cute boys to dance with.”
I follow her reluctantly and take my opportunity to escape when I spot the drinks piled on the altar. There, I bump into a hulking shape and look up into a pair of narrow dark eyes.
“Hey,” Iakov Kavinski says.
“Hi, Iakov.” I glance down. “What are you having?”
“Vodka,” he says. He hands me the bottle. “Want some?”
“What are you mixing it with?”
He laughs but doesn’t answer as if I’ve just told a joke.
“Ugh, you’re just chugging it?”
He shrugs. “You don’t want some?”
