by L V Chase
“You don’t get much private space in these rooms, do you?” he asks, standing up and striding across the span of the room. He avoids Diana’s side like I do. “Do you need a better coffeemaker? I could get an espresso machine in here.”
“I only need that machine for caffeine,” I say. I take another sip from my mug. “So. Damian.”
“Why haven’t they removed Diana’s things?” he asks. “If they took out the bed and all of the furniture, you could have more room.”
“Considering this is the scholarship building, I’m just happy they removed my blood,” I say. “Grayson. Come on. I’m not getting drunk enough to forget that you got in through the door by telling me you have to talk about Damian. Talk.”
He steps up in front of me. While he’s standing and I’m sitting, it’s hard to ignore his belt buckle, reflecting the room’s ceiling light, and the bulge underneath it, which kindles a soft sensitivity throughout my whole body. I force myself to look up at his face.
“Damian found out a lot about my father’s business deals,” he says. “One of the men who’d been involved in them flipped on my father. And this man has been…loitering around you.”
“Loitering? You mean stalking?” I ask. “Who—"
The police station. The pizzeria. The art room.
“Brady,” I say, slowly. “He’s talked to me a few times now.”
“When?” Grayson asks sharply.
“The first time was at the police station. It was a couple of days after you were arrested. The police questioned me, and he pulled me out of it. He told them I was a confidential informant. Then, I saw him at a pizzeria—the one across from campus. John or Joe’s Pizza. You must know about that one because Eric saw him. And I just saw him in the art room earlier today.”
His jaw is clenched. “Don’t interact with him anymore. I’ll have my dad’s security team watch over you.”
“Grayson, the man is creepy and the fact that he’s connected to Damian is worse, but he’s not any more creepy than Eric.”
“I have control over Eric,” Grayson says. “And Brady…”
He trails off. My eyes narrow and I grip my mug tighter.
“What?” I ask. “You’re leaving out a huge chunk of information. Post-Damian, you should know how I feel about that.”
He grimaces. “Brady is the one who had Diana. He’s the one who you were supposed to go to.”
I hide my face behind my mug. Holy shit. Fuck.
“He wanted a girl he could break,” Grayson continues. “He wanted someone with your…tenacity. Before I knew you, when you were just a thorn in my side, I…suggested you.”
I close my eyes. “Motherfucker.”
“But I realized I couldn’t let him have you. So, I trained Diana—"
“While training me,” I interject.
“It was an excuse to be close to you,” he says. “Yes, at first, it was training, but only the first time. I trained Diana and told my father that you were too much of a wild card. That I’d already put too much time in Diana to not offer her to Brady. So, he got her.”
I don’t say anything. I sip from my cup. He takes large gulps from his mug. I stare at my painting instead of at Grayson. Maybe it doesn’t need any more bright colors. It needs shades of gray. It needs sharper edges.
“She wasn’t something to be offered,” I say.
“I know,” he says. “I was selfish, cruel, and short-sighted. All I knew is that I didn’t want him to have you. I didn’t realize how far he’d push her. A lot of these men just want a young woman to fawn over them and stroke their ego. He’s…worse.”
I stare down at the wine. It doesn’t taste so sweet now.
“I have to tell you something else, too,” he says.
I glance up at him. “Are you about to tell me that Jay is a secret agent?” I ask. “Or that Ollie is a supervillain? Who else in my life is secretly evil?”
“I have no idea about either of them,” he says. “But I have to take Aurora to the dance.”
I nearly throw my mug at him. “Why…the fuck. Why the fuck would you need to take your sister to the dance?”
“She’s not my sister” he says. “And my father has a whole plan around it.”
“Your father can eat a dick.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “But I’d already…I meant to ask you if we could get together after the dance. I know as a scholarship student, you’ll be forced to be there, so I thought I could bring you some dinner and some wine to make it better afterwards. I could still send Aurora home in a taxi, and I’d drive you back here. I’d understand if you don’t want to, but I’d make it worth it.”
I tip my mug, surprised to find the last drops of wine hitting my lips. “Well, we’re already going to be at a hotel. We could just get a room.”
“Oh?” His eyebrow shoots up and he smiles at me. He sets his mug down beside me. It’s empty too. His knees thud down on both sides of me. He kisses me. It’s soft, warm, and filled with the same citrus taste as the wine. His fingertips press on the nape of my neck. I wrap my arms around him and spread my legs, pulling him closer to me. He moves between my thighs, his hands sliding into my hair as his mouth coaxes and acquiesces against mine.
This is a physical manifestation of emotion. This is art.
14
Grayson
I'm sitting in my car behind the steering wheel. The sun's already down but the parking lot's lights cover the area in a bright, sterile hue. It's warm with the tux inside the car, so I have both front windows rolled down. I check my watched. It's five past seven.
She's late.
"I'm here!" The voice carries over the quiet parking lot.
I look over to the passenger's side. Aurora approaches in a red dress that shimmers with each step she takes. She has a small white bag under one arm. Aurora stops at the side of the car and bends over slightly to peek inside. Her pale hair falls past her face.
"Well?" She bites her lip. "Aren't you going to get out and open the door for me?"
I just wave my hand at her. "Hurry up. We're late."
Aurora huffs, but she's smiling as she opens the door and slides into her seat. Her dress rides up her thighs, but she doesn't smooth it back down. Instead, she shifts her position so that her knees, along with her light-colored heels, are all angled towards me.
"This is going to be so much fun," Aurora practically squeals as she lays one hand on my arm.
I drop my arm down, away from Aurora, to take hold of the stick shift. "Yeah, fun," I mutter. I focus on my plans with Cin later tonight. I smile to myself. "Real fun."
I can sense Aurora glancing at me curiously, but I pull out of the parking lot and accelerate down the road.
We don't talk much during the twenty-minute drive to get to the Peninsula Hotel. There's a steady stream of cars pulling up to the front loop, but it ends up taking less than a minute to reach the entrance and hand the car over to a valet.
Aurora's pouting, making no move to get out of the car, so I open her door. She immediately latches onto my arm as we head up the staircase to the front doors. The doormen nod as they open the pair of wide glass doors.
The entire hotel's front lobby's been decorated with the usual lights, wreaths, and other pieces of holiday bullshit. More hotel staff in uniforms usher us into the ballroom down the hall. Aurora waves at other couples we pass.
We step into the main ballroom. The overall light is dimmer here despite all the Christmas lights strung about the pillars and walls. One side of the ballroom is empty, presumably for dancing, while the other has round tables with white tablecloths, along with the food and drink off to the side.
I spot Cin immediately. She looks kind of cute in her elf outfit. In any other situation, I'd tease her about the sexy cut of the form-fitting green dress and sheer red stockings, but she's looking uncomfortable and annoyed. She's standing with crossed arms over by the drinks and snacks.
I pull my arm out of Aurora's. "That's enough of that."
Aurora reaches for me. "But—"
I wave a hand over my shoulder as I walk ahead. "I need something to drink."
The dance lights pulse a kaleidoscope of red, green, and yellow as an upbeat song starts. I maneuver around the writhing mass of bodies to reach Cin. Her back's turned to me. I grab an empty clean glass.
"Hey, you work here?" I call out to Cin. I nudge her lightly in her bare shoulder with the glass.
She whirls, a scowl on her face. When she sees me, she stares at the glass I'm holding out with a frown. I shake the glass.
"Aren't you supposed to be helping?" I ask. "Where's my drink?"
Cin rolls her eyes and snatches the glass out of my hand. She turns around and ladles out a light pink drink from the punch bowl. I reach for the glass, but Cin takes a long sip before handing it back.
"Here," she says.
I take the glass from her and take a sip. It's slightly bitter, more like grapefruit juice than alcohol, and a little too sweet for my liking. I set the glass down on the side table.
"So, what's it like being an elf?" I ask.
Cin picks at her red stockings. "Tacky. Tasteless. But overall, not too terrible."
I eye her up and down, my eyes tracing the outlines of the sleek dress that forms the upper part of her costume. "No, not terrible at all. And I don't know about tasteless. I think I'm getting hungry." I step closer to her, my hand brush against the small of her back.
Cin bites her lip, then slips away to grab a small plate, places two round cookies on it, then comes back and hands it to me. "Well, you'll have to settle for a snack. The main course isn't until later."
It's hard to say with the flashing dance lights, but her cheeks look like they're flushed red as she says that. I take the plate from her and bite one of the cookies. I scan the crowd as I do.
In the back of the ballroom, opposite the main entrance, I spot Damian hanging out at the side with the other scholarship girls in their green and red elf costumes. I put the cookie back on the plate.
"What is it?" Cin asks. "You're frowning."
"Nothing," I reply as I look away, but Cin's already looking over shoulder to check what caught my gaze.
I step closer to Cin and put one arm around her to turn her away from the others. Fucks those bitches. All four of them. I don't know if they have anything planned for tonight, but I won't be taking any chances. I'm not letting Cin out of my sight.
"Careful," I whisper to Cin. "Don't let your guard down around them."
Cin glances sideways at me. "They seem more interested in you these days than me." She nods in the other direction. "Her, too."
Aurora's slinking through the crowd towards me. I grimace. I don't want her anywhere near Cin, either.
"Stay safe. Meet me at the room in an hour." I pull away from Cin and move towards Aurora, intercepting her a good distance away from the snack tables.
"Were you talking to Cinnamon?" Aurora asks, her tone curt and her eyes flashing.
I shrug. "She's a fucking elf. She got me a drink, like she's supposed to."
Aurora's still staring past me, frowning. I don't like the way she's looking at Cin.
I put an arm around Aurora's waist and guide her towards the middle of the ballroom. "Did we come to dance, or waste time bitching about the hired help?"
Aurora purses her lips for a second, then smiles as places her hands on my shoulders. "You're right, as usual."
We spend what feels like an eternity on the dance floor. I try not to scowl, but I refuse to smile for Aurora, no matter how hard she tries to make me. And does she try. If it hadn't been so fucking weird, I would have thought she was flirting with me the entire time, giving me small smiles, her hands caressing my shoulders and neck, her attempts to lean closer and lay her head on me.
It's a delicate, exhausting balance, keeping her off me, but not abruptly enough to piss her off. When I see Damian approaching from behind her, it's practically a welcome sight.
I let go of Aurora.
"What?" Aurora asks, confused.
I stare at Damian. Aurora glances backward, shrinking visibly when she spots him. She reaches for my arm, but I pull away from her. Damian leers at her.
"I…I'll be in the bathroom," Aurora says before quickly disappearing into the crowd.
"She's skittish, isn't she?" Damian says with a stupid grin. "No spine. Not like Cin."
"What the fuck do you want?" I reply.
Damian's stops grinning. "I heard that you paid for a room."
I don't say anything.
"One of the staff here told me," he says.
"So?"
"Well, seeing as I doubt that you booked the room for your sister—" Damian tilts his head. "Step-sister. Ex-sister. Whatever. I doubt that room's for Aurora. Which means I assume it's for Cin."
I take half a step closer and lean forwards. "How about you mind your own damn business? Or you can assume this here is for you." I raise my hand and curl it into a fist.
Damian's eyes narrow, and he moves slightly away from me. "No, you don't get it Voss, do you? You have a choice. Ditch Cin, or I release the testimonies from the other girls."
I laugh. "That bullshit you and those bitches came up with? Anyone with half a brain could tell you made those stupid stories up."
"You and I both know that's not what matters. I'll destroy you and your father. He won't be able to save you the storm of shit that this will stir up. Not when his own companies going to be drowning in it."
It's basically the same threat as before. Stay away from Cin, or he goes after my family's name. Except this time's different. I'm different.
I know now that only one thing matters. Cin. I'm not letting go of her. Fuck the rest of the noise. Dad, the company. Fuck it all.
I check my watch. It's been an hour. Cin will be waiting for me. I butt past Damian, knocking him hard in the shoulder.
15
Cin
The penthouse bedroom has an aurora borealis theme. The carpet swirls with shades of teal and turquoise, streaks of fern green, wisps of orchid and lavender purple. The comforter on the bed is an arctic blue with darker blues creating an imprint of mountains. The massive windows are covered by sheer curtains, so that the lights of the city shine through them, creating faint echoes of blue on the white walls. The massive size of the room with the soaring ceilings makes it easy to forget I’m inside. As soon as I step into the rest of the penthouse, I’ll be surrounded by white and cream colors, which makes everything feel more luxurious, but this room is formidable and captivating in a way that reminds me of Grayson himself.
Chimes harmonize as the penthouse door opens. I peek out the doorway, fear rippling down my spine as I imagine Brady sneaking in, desperate to break me like he broke Diana.
But I see Grayson and his easy stride. The fear smooths into exhilaration. Despite everything, I feel myself grinning and bursting out of the room, ending up right in front of him.
“Hey, stranger,” I say.
“Hey, little spice,” he teases.
We embrace. He lifts me a couple of inches and kisses me, nipping at my bottom lip. I nip back at him and feel his smile against my lips.
I’ve felt off-kilter for all of my life. I didn’t fit my mother’s idea of a glamorous daughter, who could grow up to be useful enough to earn her a place with the upper-class. I grew the same hard-shell as my peers in public school, but I could never grow enough callouses to value my survival over other people’s. I don’t fit in with the diamond-filled lives of my peers here, or the diamond-starved lives of the DDD girls.
Yet around Grayson, the need to fit in with other people’s expectations seem ridiculous. I fit in my own skin, and my skin feels sensual and safe with him.
“Take off your shoes,” he says.
“Because you have a secret foot fetish?”
“Because the elf shoes make it slightly weird with how much I want to fuck you.”
I pull away, slipping him a mischievous s
mile before dashing back into the bedroom. I plop down on the bed. The elf shoes are an ugly green, curving up at the toes to a curl with a bell at the end. I’d tried not to move much behind the beverage and dessert table, because every time I did, I jingled. I might as well have been a cat with a bell on its collar.
I pull off the left shoe and pry the other one off with my toes. My crimson stockings contrast brightly against the floor. When I look up, Grayson is gazing at me with a quiet appreciation. I reach for him. His hands are warm. I pull them to my waist. We kiss, his lips tasting faintly like punch and sugar cookies.
“Should I take anything else off?” I breathe, trying to sound funny, but it comes out more earnest than I expect.
“I can manage it.”
He unzips the back of the outfit. His hand slides over my spine. I shiver. He helps me pull my arms out of it. Outside of the tight material, it’s freeing as I wrap my arms around his neck, holding myself up as he pulls the rest of the outfit over my ass and down to my feet.
I sit back down, in my red stockings, my black underwear, and my threadbare bra, but I’m not self-conscious. It would be impossible to feel inadequate with the way Grayson is looking at me.
His hands slide over my waist, circling around me. We kiss. This time feels so soft and intimate. It’s the intimacy that unfurls in my painting, and the softer colors that should be in it.
I unbutton his shirt. He shrugs it off. It flutters down, a white flag. I work on his belt buckle next. As I whip it off, his kisses become more insistent.
I slide off the bed to pull down his pants, kneeling in front of him. His erection brushes against the curve of my bra and the top of my shoulder. I kiss the side of his cock, a quick peck before cupping his balls and giving it a deeper kiss.
“That’s unfair,” he groans.
I smirk at him.
“I know,” I say. I stroke my knuckles under his cock, resting them under the head as I kiss it. A small noise grumbles out of the back of his throat.
