by KT Strange
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he says, words soft. “Everyone has a price. Some are written in blood. It’s just a matter of finding yours.” His smile turns menacing and I grab for the doorknob to my suite, shoving the door open.
“Fuck off, creep,” I snap, and slam it behind me, throwing the bolt. I can feel him. Out there, waiting, breathing, thinking, plotting. I lean against the door, my nerves shattering as I slide down it to collapse on the floor.
I can’t even cry.
Mrrrrrow?
Toby trots toward me down the hall, and immediately begins to purr, curling in my lap. I curve my arms around him and cradle him against my chest. Warmth and comfort spreads through me, and I close my eyes.
Twelve
Olivia
Everything about this is a mistake. The black lace fits me like a second skin, and I feel naked in it, exposed, the heels tight over my toes and pinching my heels.
I'm not sure if it's the right choice for tonight… but the clock has run down and and I nervously exit my apartment when a crisp knock rings out in the near-empty rooms.
And there he stands. Tall, handsome, and frown-y. I swallow, my lips parting as he eyes me up and down, his expression not changing from what looks like Ultimate Disappointment.
Everett says nothing. His jaw is tense, and I can see the subtle tic-tic-tic of his cheek muscles flickering just under the surface of his freshly shaved skin. My heart dips. He turns and starts walking. With a startled meep, I yank my front door shut and scramble after him in my heels.
He continues to say nothing to me in the limo. He’s on his phone, talking quietly under his breath, barely audible over the soft classical music that’s playing.
Did I fuck up already?
I look down at the dress and wonder if it’s all wrong and he’s pissed he brought me. Then part of me gets mad that he’s mad. He’s the one who didn’t tell me anything about tonight. He wanted me here, and it’s tough tits if he doesn’t like what I picked out.
We sit in quiet resentment, my nerves already frayed.
It's only when we get to the venue, that I’m distracted enough to stop sulking and fuming.
We turn onto a long drive, towering palm trees rising above us, wrapped in lights with more globe lights blossoming along their fronds. It’s stunning, and I press my fingers up against the glass. It looks like a fairy tale come to life.
I spend most of the slow drive up the long quiet road with my nose nearly press the window, my jaw dropping as we pull into a circular drive, a romanesque building erupting from the ground in front of us.
Everything is white and glittery, and there’s a red carpet rolling down the stairs, dotted with women in expensive dresses. They drip with diamonds, their men in sharp suits beside them as they walk upward, making their way into the building.
I feel a flash of intimidation boiling in my gut. We stop. Everett looks over me, an assessing look on his face.
“This is an event with artists, so it’s fine if you’re a little eccentric,” he says with a smirk.
I know what he means by eccentric. He means unpolished. Jerk. I’ve never been to finishing school like some of the women obviously have. I swallow around the tightness in my throat.
“I have a Master’s,” I say to him, but it sounds weak coming out of my mouth. I'm not speaking with conviction, and he rolls his eyes.
“Don't embarrass me,” he replies with an elegant sneer, leaving me wondering, if he thinks that I would, why he'd even invite me in the first place.
He gets out first and offers me his hand. It's warm to the touch, and the unexpected heat makes me look up at him. He smiling now, but I can tell it’s plastered on for the audience of other rich and fabulous people, because his eyes are cool. He grips me steadily, and I wobble to my feet. His smile briefly flickers into a smirk.
“You don’t look like you can manage this without help,” he murmurs, as I glance around. More limos are arriving, and there is an array of silk and lace and velvet on display, women and their rail-thin bodies gliding over the cobblestone courtyard like they were born in Louboutins. My face burns. My high heels don't exactly approve.
“I’ll deal,” I mutter, trying not to sound grumpy. Everett disguises a laugh under a low cough, and turns away as someone calls his name.
Another man approaches, and I ignore them both to instead stare at this surreal building in front of me. It’s even more beautiful now that I’m outside the limo. The white plaster has been painted over with something that reflects the light in a billion little sparkles, mica probably.
I try to stand there and just take it all in. A laugh, Everett’s, distracts me and I glance over at him. The new man is in a suit every penny as expensive as Everett’s, and a woman glides up behind him, her blonde hair swept up into a tousle of artful curls.
“You haven’t met Melissa,” he says, gesturing to the woman, “my new fiancée.” She smiles and dips her head neatly at Everett, before her gaze lands on me.
Should I curtsey? Do people do that? She towers over me, and even with my heel on I’m barely coming up to Everett’s shoulder. She has a smile on her face, but it looks insincere and unpleasant.
“Where did you find this sweet little thing?” She asks, but there’s nothing nice in her voice. Instead she looks at me like I’m a viper. Unconsciously, I shift closer to Everett, and he wraps an arm around my waist, tugging me in.
“Business,” he says with a wink. His friend, handsome but with a blunted nose that looks like it’s seen the hard edge of a skateboard, laughs.
“We’ll see you inside,” he says, guiding Melissa away. “That’s code for the strip club,” his words float back to me and I grit my teeth. I glare up at Everett. He shrugs.
“What? It’s not like you’ll ever see either of them again,” he says, sounding bored. “It makes me look good.”
“You said not to embarrass you. And then you go saying you’re here with a stripper?” I ask. He laughs and starts walking. I chase after him for no goddamn good reason.
“Anyone can get a society woman,” he says, “they’re boring and do a ton of blow and talk your fucking ear off half the night.” He looks me up and down as I catch up to him. “Strippers shut the fuck up and look pretty. They know their place.”
I seethe quietly and do my best not to hunch my shoulders. I need good posture if I’m not going to fall ass over teakettle on these stairs as we approach them. Somebody, curse them, put an extremely padded under layer beneath the red carpet, and my heels are sinking in and threatening to topple me, Jenga style.
Everett is looking at me, amused expression on his face.
“What? Are you seriously enjoying this?” I snip. He laughs, quietly, politely.
“These are the kinds of things you need to do when you're a person like me,” he says, offering me his arm. I take it gingerly, because it’s that or fall on my face, putting my hand on the inside of his forearm.
He raises an eyebrow and I give him a look right back.
“I studied Regency history,” I say. “I know where it's polite to touch you.” Something about the way I say it, or maybe it was my word choice, makes his pupils flare. His eyes. Those intense, calculating eyes, shadow dark.
“Some men don't want polite touches,” he says, making a dangerous thrill of electricity run through me, and he guides us towards the entryway. The steps, polished white marble, smooth and shiny, make me grateful for the red carpet, that spills over them.
There's other couples ahead of us, and other couples arriving behind us even still, although no sight of Everett’s friend and his bitchy fiancée. Looking around, I'm grateful that Kai took me to Rodeo Drive to shop.
Living in L.A., you can't help but know the big brands, and I can see a lot exclusive designers from Dolce and Gabbana all the way to Chloé. And that girl is carrying a vintage Chanel. I've seen no less than three mini-Kelly's dangling from the fingers of women who look like they should be on a catwalk somew
here or vamping in a music video.
And then there's me. I curled my own hair in loose waves. And I did my own makeup. My cat eyes a little bit over the top. But maybe I'm in luck since tonight is all about artists. I can be eccentric, including with my makeup choices.
“All you need to do is look pretty. Hang on my every word, and don't get drunk,” he says, “that should be pretty simple for you right. Since you have a master's and everything.” The mocking tone in his voice makes me pinch the inner part of his arm and he lets out a curse.
“Don't fucking pinch me,” he says, giving an elegant sort of snort as we get to the top of the stairs. There are two large double doors open, and the carpet leads us inside. Immediately my senses are assaulted by a bright, visual display as huge canvases hang from the walls down a long hallway. Other glittering couples stopping to admire artwork.
A gentleman in a trim black suit and black suit-shirt greets us. He smiles warmly when he sees the two of us, but his gaze is focused on Everett, and not me.
“Mr Layton, what a pleasure,” he says.
“Of course I wouldn't miss it. The event of the season,” Everett says, sounding so unlike himself that I almost do a double take. But that wouldn't be classy, quote unquote.
That's when I notice that the way this man looks at Everett is like he wants to devour him.
Everett almost maneuvers me in front of his body.
“Have you met Miss Copper,” he asks, and his hand wraps around my wrist tightly. The gentleman in the suit and black shirt looks intrigued and almost slightly disappointed. His gaze drops to me.
“Miss Copper? No I don't believe I have.”
“What a fortunate chance that I brought her with me tonight then,” Everett says, “Miss Copper, please meet Mr Wolden. He is our host tonight.”
“That's a little obvious, Ev,” I say, using a playful little new nickname for him that he doesn't deserve. But there's something off about his relationship with this other man. I know a predator when I see one and Wolden is a predator.
Especially because he's looking at me like I'm a poison snake that he's found in his bed.
That's cute I haven't heard that one before. Everett shrugs and gives an easy lazy smile. We're still in the honeymoon phase, He says, and I have to hold back. A snort of laughter. There was no honeymoon phase if anything we skipped right on to hell.
So we're all these works of art yours I ask, Are you the artist, changing the subject and needs a name laughs. I can see why Everett likes you are F, he says, heavy on the quotations around the nickname. Has the ego. And it needs someone special who can help him with upkeep.
Are you saying I need a cheerleader ever and asks, and the other man just smokes. Enjoy the show he says, I love to know what you think afterwards. If you have a few minutes.
He holds ABS gaze Everett's gaze with his own for seconds longer than his natural. Ooh, that one of you were saying that you wanted something for the
front hall. I say, causing a distraction and pointing at a painting. Everett laughs, and I tug on his arm. Come on. Ever gives needs a name a look and shrugs as if to say, women. Right. And we go. He follows me. Once we're inside. It is very overwhelming, the towering ceiling pillars everywhere. Smart looking servers with platters of food. Navigating the crowd. There must be at least 1000 people here. That's what it feels like anyway.
I need a snack after that, I say. I glance over at Everett, and unlike him. You're not my idea of a snack.
Haha, he says sarcastically. And then looks at the painting guide pointed out, it's ugly and tacky Why would you think that would suit my apartment.
I roll my eyes and grab a passing crab puff stuffing it into my mouth. I'm not worried about looking in elegant right now. I just need to eat. Hello, look, it was an escape parachute and it worked so just appreciate it, instead of being a little bitch about it. I say he sighs, and as a waiter passes by he grabs another crab puff offering it to me. Thank you. He says, My princess in shining armor. He talks an eyebrow. And it's almost like I'm seeing a real human underneath the steel facade.
Hello, I'm so glad to see you. A woman dripping diamonds says, as she greets him with an air kiss on either side of her of his face. She barely glances at me and passes on before he can say much to her. There's at least 20 other Greetings, much like those. And I realized I'm just cotton candy.
Fluffy no substance, totally normal. Which I guess is fine, but I'm also really fucking bored.
I need to find the bathroom, I say quietly in his ear, as he's talking to some other man in a suit this one more interested in staring at the waitresses asses than at Everett himself. I figure he's probably safe.
He nods to me. It's. You need to excuse yourself. He cracks me under his breath. I resist the urge to roll my eyes again because I don't want to strain my act sprain my octave nerve and go off in hunting, the bathroom. There's a lineup. About 40 women long, and I groan when I see it before an ingenious idea fills me. The men's is always empty, and I sneak up on it like a ninja hiding behind a pillar and slipping inside. I check up under the stalls but it's empty the whole place. And with a breath of relief.
Only washing my hands. After that I hear hiccups footsteps. So tell me, Miss Olivia copper. That's smooth veiled voice sounds off behind me, and I look up seeing him in the mirror.
He smiles. Oh, don't worry, I think it was very smart of you to use the men's bathroom. You'd have been out. You'd have been away from your precious Everett for at least an hour. If you'd waited for the women's. When I opened my mouth he shakes his head. No need to apologize. Why don't I walk you back to him. He offers me his arm. And I take it.
We leave the bathroom together. And it doesn't look like anyone seen us ever did tell me not to embarrass him. I'm worried I've already done that. By getting caught in the men's. So tell me about how you two met, He says, and my brain stumbles over it. Oh, work, I say, what do you do he asks, I was a barista. I blurred out. I see he says you're one of those. Honestly, it's embarrassing that he even brought you. He looks down at me with a sneer. It's so like Everett's but even worse, darker. It's like he looks right inside of me and knows all my secrets.
I knew he was having trouble coming out of the closet but bringing a beard along. That's embarrassing. And a coffee jockey on top of it. I can see the back of Everett's head from here. We're almost there.
I should really get going, I say. He laughs What is he paying you by the minute. His voice drops down. Are you sucking his cock. Does it help him pretend that he doesn't want me.
His eyes half lid and a righteous indignant fury swells up in my chest. It spreads out to my arm and before I realized that I'm cracking him right across the face. The sound echoes in the tall room off the walls and the pillars. And as I exhale everyone turns to look at us. The room stills movement stops. Everyone is watching. And then the crowd I see his face. Furious bright red with anger. Everett. Oh god. The one thing he said, Don't embarrass me too late.
Thirteen
Olivia
Everett drags me out of the party like an unruly child by the wrist. The only difference is I'm not kicking and screaming I'm happy to leave
black dress is too tight around me and I feel like I can't breathe. You're lucky you got out of there without an assault charge.
He growls at me, as we wait for the limo. Life was easier before. When I mostly got around on my two feet. Now I'm always waiting for cars to pick me up.
I'm not sure why expect a private vehicle to be on time instantly. It's not like they disappear, and then went back into existence as soon as I need them. There are people too.
Well he figured out your little charade. I say acidly. Maybe if you'd prepared me more for tonight, or would have had information.
Like, what you do for business or how you started your company. If you even started it. He makes an annoying noise. What's that supposed to mean
I can't help it, it comes out of me like verbal vomit. Well it's obvious you've never had to struggle
for it. The company was built before you were even around. Not like Kai, he built his career on his own. That gets a really hysterical noise out of him and he looks
amused as well as angry at the same time. Is that what you think, is that what he told you
he made it on his own. Everett asks, looking smug. Oh, you have no idea at all, do you little girl
shakes his head. I glared at him. What are you talking about, I say.
He got signed to a sweetheart deal on a record label. Everett says, Who do you think owns that record label. a silent investment partner. He smirks IV equity. His career was bought and paid for by the very company. He pretends to hate that he walked away from
and left more responsible people to deal with while he went off and played Rockstar. My lips part. That's not true. I say, of course it is. He replies but don't ask him he doesn't even fucking now, he looks up the sky. A smile curving his lips. It would destroy him if he knew that he didn't get where he was on merit. But on nepotism. He thinks I'm the one who was spoiled, and raised the silver spoon. He thinks exactly like you that I never had to work extra hard for what I have. It's gonna be funny when I finally tell him. He laughs quietly to himself. You're such an asshole I say, and I want to change the subject. Because I'm horrified. Does Kai really not know is ever planning on telling him just to destroy his whole self image. You know, if you had given me some more information about yourself, or told me what was said when I met your parents, that kind of thing. I would have been ready and said you just threw me to the wolf. And he saw through it.
He knows that. We're not dating effort shrugs. It doesn't matter now. I don't really fucking care. Let me store it. What happened when you met my parents he asks sounding condescending. That's a little rich, thinking that you would ever be allowed to meet my parents,
my cheeks burn red hot and painful shows what you know I say Kai's offered me to meet his parents. Oh, he has ever asks his voice going dangerous, the limo arrives. And I fall quiet. As I get inside smoothing my dress down over my knees. Everett sets at the other end of the limo pouring himself a glass of whiskey. From the minibar. And he drinks it slowly looking out the window at the lights of LA. He's silhouetted in Golden and yellow light. What would you do to keep me from telling him. He comments softly. What I ask, what would you do if I told you,