Page 67 of The Faking Game
“Now I finally have the full set.” Her glittering attention shifts to West. “Do you like the location I chose for tonight’s party? I had to pull some strings, but once I had the theme, it had to be at Thorn Hall. And it couldn’t be closer to you.”
“Distasteful,” he says.
The woman laughs again, and I look up at West in surprise. His face is carved in stone. I’ve rarely seen him look like this; his expression is angry, resigned.
“Oh, but that’s the fun!” she says. “It fit the theme so well, don’t you think?”
“You’re right about that. Is he here tonight?”
“I had to invite him, of course,” Vivienne says. “He’s been clawing his way back. Slowly building another fortune.”
“I’ve seen,” West says tightly.
“Maybe we’ll get a little show out of you two, hmm?”
“I think not.” His hand falls to my low back. “I don’t like performing for crowds.”
“That’s a shame, because I so love it.” She reaches into her pocket. She pulls out a large brass key with a red ribbon on it and hands it directly to me. It’s heavy in my palm. “Don’t forget to pay the downstairs a little visit.”
Vivienne walks away, her hips moving through the crowd. “Who,” I ask, “was that? And you’re not allowed to answer withno one.”
West takes the key from me and puts it in his pocket. “She hosts these parties a few times a year. She’s… very well connected. And she’s not someone to be angered.”
“I think you did just that when you told her that her party was distasteful.”
“I said the location was. Not the party.”
“You’re arguing semantics.” I take another sip of my champagne. “And why is the location distasteful?”
His jaw tightens. “Not something we’re going to discuss right now.”
I push. Like he told me to. “You told me to make you angry. To practice it. So maybe I won’t let it go.”
His eyes flash down to me, and then his lips curve. Just a hint. “I did, didn’t I? Are you going to make me regret those words?”
“Maybe I’ll try.”
He lets his hand lie flat against my low back, then his eyes sharpen. Like he just realized my dress is open and his hand is against my bare skin. It’s warm, too, and a shiver runs through me at the touch. “Good,” he says. “You’re doing very well.”
“By annoying you.”
“Yes. And you’re doing a damn good job of distracting me, too.”
“Do you need distractions tonight?”
“It wouldn’t hurt. We need a few people here to see us together.” He guides me through the crowd, into another room. This one is large. An old stone fireplace is in the center, but no ordinary furniture. Like the hallway, the place looks mostly abandoned.
There’s a bartender in one corner and a large poker table in the center.
“Who are we pretending for?” I ask. “Your mother isn’t here. The stalker isn’t here.”
He looks out over the space. “Some of the world’s most powerful people come to Vivienne’s parties. Whispers always spread. And I want them to.”
I look out over the poker table, the hazy room. More than a few people glance our way. Just like the polo game. “People are watching us.”
“Want to put on a show?”
“You’re not carrying me again.”
