Page 64 of A Devious Arrangement
It wouldn’t have bothered me if they weren’t right. My family is broke. I have no business with a Lord. Our relationship is fake, and it was doomed from the beginning. Bash doesn’t let me fall behind him, instead keeping me a step ahead as he maneuvers us easily between two columns. Even though it’s still open in the ballroom, it feels separate, as if he’s found a hidden corner amongst the sea of people. They still watch us, but at least I don’t have to rub elbows with them.
Bash leans in close and drops his forehead to my shoulder. “I fucking hate it here.”
Goosebumps rise as his hot breath fans over me. I tap my elbow into him and shove him off. “Come on. You’re the prince of the ball. You’d think you’d love it here.”
“If I’m the prince, then you’re the princess.”
I huff out a breath. “No matter how many times you call me that, it doesn’t make it true. Maybe when I was little.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself. You have this entire place in a tizzy, staring at you in that dress.”
“More like judging me for my audacity,” I grumble under my breath. No use complaining to him. He needs me to be his fake girlfriend, and that’s easy enough.
“Are you good here while I grab us some drinks? This spot’s great, but the waitstaff doesn’t come here.” By the tone in his voice, it’s a genuine question. If I asked him to stay, he wouldn’t leave my side. A part of me really wants him not to leave. He’slike a solid wall between me and everyone else. No one dared to look directly at us in case they catch his eye.
It’s hard to believe this notorious playboy holds so much respect, but it’s clear from the other men in the room that he’s above them. Which, I guess, is to be expected since he’s a Lord and they’re just Saints.
I snap myself out of it. I’m more than capable of standing my ground. I don’t need his protection, no matter how tempting it is. I’ve been telling myself I can take care of myself, so I’m not sure why I keep leaning on him so much. He just makes it so easy. But that’s enough of that.
“I’m good. Go run along.” My hands make the shooing gesture, and he just laughs.
“As you wish, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
“You like it.”
“Never.”
“We’ll see.”
This man is absolutely impossible to deal with. He’s smart enough to flee before I can hit him. My skin prickles as eyes fall on me, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, I look blankly over the crowd, plastering on a bored face. It’s not hard—this place sucks. The fact that I can’t take out my phone is killing me. I could really use some mindless scrolling right now.
“Miss Volkov.” A shudder rolls through me at the familiar thick Boston accent.
I spin around, and my gut hollows as I’m met with the Salvatore man who came to my house the other night. My eyes dash around the room. There are still a few people glancing our way.
Which is why I take the hand he holds out to me, even as a shudder crawls down my spine at the feel of his lips on myknuckles. He lingers a moment too long, and I snap my hand back.
“What are you doing here?Howare you here?” I hiss under my breath. It would be very bad for anyone to recognize him. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together that our family is somehow involved with the Salvatores.
“I have my ways.” He rolls back on his heels. “I told you I’d be checking in. We haven’t heard from you in a while. You wouldn’t be planning anything stupid, would you?”
“Listen, you can’t be here. I’m with someone. I said I’d get the money, and I will.”
He smirks. “Sebastian Everette, right? I saw you come in. Why don’t you introduce us after a dance.”
Shit. I shake my head, but he reaches out and grabs my wrist, his fingers tightening. I wince as the sensation of the small bones grinding together, and a quiet whimper escapes my lips.
“You’re hurting me.” Tears prickle the corner of my eyes as I try to pull away, and he refuses to let go. He knows I won’t draw a scene. In a place like this, we keep our problems secret, showing the world only our perfection, or they’ll act like wolves ready to pounce.
“That’s the point, sweetheart. Now, tell me why I can find you and not your brother?” He tugs on my wrist, causing me to stumble forward. “He didn’t abandon you, did he?”
If I struggle anymore, I’m about to draw everyone’s attention.
“Let her go.” It’s a low growl of warning. Relief floods me as Bash approaches us.
Bash’s attention is on where the man still holds my wrist. He clenches his jaw, making a muscle tick in his cheek. “I’m not going to tell you again.”
