Chapter 44 #2
“Lex,” she says softly, like she knows I’m two seconds from snapping. “It’s all an act. What The Trifecta does. The dancing, the flirting, the games, it’s just a show. Just art. None of it is real, so don’t take it personal. Okay?”
“You keep calling it art, baby. But the real fucking masterpiece?” My hand slides up her waist, fingers curling into her ribs just enough to make her bite her lip. “Was the way you moaned my name when I had my fingers curled inside you last night.”
Her breath stutters, just like I fucking knew it would.
“Lex, I mean it. I know how you are. I know how you get with me.” She leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth. “Please. Behave. Don’t make me regret bringing you here.”
“I’ll behave. But only because you asked. However, don’t expect me to be normal about this shit. I don’t do calm when it comes to you.”
She kisses me again and then she slides off my lap and starts to walk toward the prep tent.
“Just remember,” she calls over her shoulder, “you’re the one who gets to take me home.”
And fuck, if that isn’t the most dangerous thing I’ve heard all day.
???
Ok… this party is unhinged. Glowing shot syringes are floating in the pool like neon mines.
There’s a beer pong table made entirely out of black obsidian.
Somebody’s already cannon-balled off the second-floor balcony into the deep end, and I’m pretty sure one of the cheer girls is giving tequila-fueled lap dances in the shallow end to every guy named Hunter or Beckett.
Carrington Row is heat, music, sweat, and wealth. It’s completely drunk off itself. Loud and fucking messy. Beautiful people doing ugly shit under the illusion of power.
I’m sitting in a chair by the pool, trying my best not to start a fucking riot because she’s over there now.
With Callum. Red bikini top. Unbuttoned denim shorts riding way too high up those dancer thighs.
Red heels that should be illegal on wet concrete.
Hair in a fishtail braid. Yeah, Ellie informed me on what that is.
Red lips. Smoky eyes locked on him as they talk across the pool by the DJ booth.
She’s smiling. Laughing. Even tosses her braid over one shoulder and I swear to God if she touches his—
“Chill, dude.” Knox’s voice hits my ear. “I can see your spiraling jealousy from here.”
Right. The comm. Apparently, being a Trifecta boyfriend now comes with a communication system.
The girls. Me. Knox. Javi. Rico, love that guy ever since he gave me a shirt with my girl’s face on it.
Even fucking Callum and August get one tonight.
We’re all linked up. One shared, invisible web stretched across The Row.
Not constantly. Not fully. Just enough for Knox to play God with the comms and pull whatever strings he needs. He runs it like a goddamn air traffic controller. Three beeps and our mics are on. Two beeps, our walkie talkie is on. One beep and your mic or walkie just got turned off.
Says it’s to keep the chaos flowing smoothly.
We can talk to him. If he wants someone else to hear us, he can route it through. If he wants us to shut the hell up, he kills our mic. My bestie’s a genius but also a real pain in my ass.
“I’m not spiraling,” I mutter under my breath.
“Oh yeah?” Knox comes back, amused. “You’ve been staring at her for exactly three minutes without blinking, and I just watched you grip your glass so hard I’m surprised it’s not sand.”
Across the pool, Bella tosses her head back and laughs at something Callum says.
“Motherfucker is not that funny,” I mumble. “Knox, if you let him touch her, I’m swimming across this pool like Poseidon and ending his quarterback career tonight.”
Knox sighs. “Lex, you’re on comm. I can play that audio back for her later.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
Knox’s voice shifts from private to public. No longer in my ear and now booming across The Row through the main speakers.
“Yo, Wexley!” His voice slides through, slick with energy. “It’s officially time to get this party started.”
The crowd erupts. Girls scream. Guys howl. Phones light up everywhere.
I glance across the pool again just in time to see it. Callum. Sliding his arm along the back of Bella’s waist like he owns the air she’s breathing. He leans in, says something I can’t hear, and then guides her behind the stage setup like it’s just part of the plan.
My grip tightens on my glass. The comm crackles in my ear, but it’s background noise now. My blood’s already humming. She’s walking with him. In those fucking heels. In that red bikini.
It’s all an act, dude. Calm the fuck down.
“Wexley Wolves, alumni, degenerates, and everyone watching on live stream…” Knox’s voice rolls over like smoke. “You’ve been waiting for this all week. And tonight, we kick things off the way we always do here at The Row…”
I stand up. I can’t sit still anymore.
“…with the sexiest girls on the East fucking Coast..” The bass drops behind Knox’s voice like a countdown. “Nah. Fuck that.” Knox laughs into the mic. “Sexiest girls in the whole damn world.”
I already know what’s coming next. “Make some noise for the one, the only TRIFECTA!”
Lights cut. Music slams into the first beat. And I swear to God, if Callum so much as brushes her thigh during this performance.
Spotlights hit the stage. Smoke machines kick in like we’re about to launch a goddamn concert.
Knox’s voice booms through the mic, full hype mode, “First up… she’s sweet, she’s savage, and she’s smarter than all of you fuckers… Wexley’s golden girl, make some noise for Ellie Whitmore!”
Ellie steps out through the curtain, high ponytail bouncing, bright yellow and pink two-piece clinging like it’s stitched to her body. She does a perfect spin and gives a little pageant wave.
“Hi babes! Thanks for coming. We’ve got a lot of heat for you tonight, hope you’re ready to melt.”
“Next up… she’s the fire you wish you could handle, and the reason your boyfriend’s been hitting the gym. Give it up for my girl, Haley Rosethorne!”
Haley steps through the curtain in an emerald green one piece with a plunging neckline so deep you can see her fucking navel. Her long legs and red hair a damn weapon under the lights. When she stops center stage, she flips her hair and blows a kiss right at Knox.
“Save me a drink, baby,” she purrs, voice low and hot. “I’ll be back to blow your… let’s just say mind after I blow theirs.” She winks at him.
Knox fumbles the mic for a second, then lets out a choked laugh over the speakers. “Damn, baby.”
Everyone’s howling now, guys pounding the air, girls screaming her name. Even I have to admit it, that was pretty hot.
Good for you, Bestie.
“And last but absolutely not least,” he turns the dial to switch the lighting to red. “The center of the storm and the reason The Row hasn’t slept in weeks. Make some noise for my Bestie’s girl, Bella Blackwood!”
Red heels. Red lips. That fucking red bikini top that’s one string away from driving me insane. Her unbuttoned denim shorts ride low and tight.
My cock twitches.
I glare at the guy next to me holding his phone way too steady, way too long, way too angled right at her ass.
I will break your fingers, fucker.
“Thank you, Knox.” She smiles confident and lethal. “Like he said, I’m Bella. This is Ellie. That’s Haley. And we are The Trifecta.”
The crowd roars so loud I swear the fucking foundation shakes.
“And here at The Row?” She paces slowly. Voice smooth. “We don’t just throw parties. We make memories. We make legends. We make history.”
She points at the crowd, then up to the balcony where more Wolves are leaning over the rails with drinks in hand.
“So whether you’re a Wexley Wolf, an Order God, a Hollow King…” she looks at me and blows me a kiss.
Fucker with the phone pointed at her ass looks at me and I swear he pisses his pants.
“That’s right,” I say loud enough for him and everyone else to hear. “She’s fucking mine, man.”
“…or just someone lucky enough to get in, welcome to the most elite, most dangerous, most unforgettable night of your goddamn summer!” she finishes with a smile.
I shake my head, half-laughing, half-hard. “Damn, baby,” I mutter under my breath. “You better hype up my fight night next week like that.”
“Okay, Wolves, ladies, gentlemen.” A pause. Knox’s grin is audible. “I think we should kick this off in style.”
The lights flicker, dim. A pulse of bass hums through the pool.
“How about we start this night off with a few chairs?”
The crowd erupts. Behind the stage curtain, three tall black chairs are carried into place by a few Wexley boys, including Callum, who’s grinning like he’s about to die happy.
“Thank you, boys…” Bella says stepping toward the chairs. “Hmm… Knox. Who do you think we should get to sit in these lovely little chairs?”
Three chairs.
Three girls.
And three very lucky bastards about to risk their lives for my view.
The crowd starts chanting names. Drunk, sloppy, and desperate. Callum slides right up beside her, wraps an arm around her waist, and pulls her in. Too close. Too smug. Too fucking comfortable. My jaw ticks.
It’s part of the act, Lex.
Bella’s still smiling. Dangerous. Teasing.
“Well, Bells,” Callum says cocky as ever, “I can think of someone who could at least sit in your chair.”
Then he picks her up. Just fucking grabs her. She gasps as her legs wrap around his waist like it’s normal. Like it’s fine. Her braid swings behind her, red heels glinting under the lights like weapons I should be using on him. He slides his hands around her ass and the fucker squeezes.
Good God, Cal. I will fucking murder you in your sleep.
He carries her to the chair like she’s his. Sits down so she’s fucking straddling him and laughs.
Baby, you’re going to pay for this torture.
His hands are still on her. Her thighs are wrapped around him. I can’t breathe. The crowd explodes. Like this is cute. Like it’s fun. Like they’re just watching two people flirt.
What they are watching is my girlfriend signing the death warrant of yet another fucking man. Let’s just put Callum Whitmore on my hit list right under Mortal fucking Kombat.
Bella laughs into the mic.
Don’t you dare laugh, baby.
“Okay, okay, fine, Cal. You win.” Her voice is playful and teasing. She shifts in his lap and flips her hair. She flashes that smug little smile, like she’s not setting my entire bloodstream on fire.
Like she doesn’t know exactly who she fucking belongs to.
“You get a chair.”
The fuck he does.
She stands slowly. Legs long. Braid sliding down her shoulder. Callum leans back, too proud of himself. Sitting there like he just won the Super Bowl, the lottery, and my girlfriend’s fucking heart. Like she was ever his to begin with.
She’s not.
She’s mine.
I don’t care how slow she’s moving. I don’t care if she hasn’t said the words yet. I don’t even care that Cade’s dragging his goddamn feet.
Isabella Marie Blackwood belongs to me.
I don’t even register who the other two idiots are, some Wexley linebacker and a Wall Street trust fund rat. Doesn’t matter. All I see is Bella. My girl. Giving a slow, filthy, teasing-as-fuck lap dance… to my sworn fucking enemy.
I swear to God, if I don’t get a chair tonight someone’s leaving in a body bag.
She slides a hand down his chest and arches her back. The crowd screams. He grins like a king, and I swear if this fucking complex had weapons, there’d already be blood in the pool.
“Hey there, Lex.”
Fuck me, can this night get any worse?
I turn to see Madison Fucking Rae and her two carbon copies flanking her like backup dancers in a perfume ad. All three in matching black bikinis and heels like they rehearsed this in hell.
“Looks like your girlfriend is quite into Callum Whitmore tonight,” her tone drips with fake concern. “That’s Cade’s brother, right?”
She pouts. “Oooooh. Wonder what he thinks. Where is Cade anyway? I heard he moved out. Trouble in paradise Lex, baby?”
“What the fuck are you doing here, Maddie?”
She leans in, eyes gleaming as she tries wrap her arms around my waist. I shove her off with zero grace.
“Don’t even fucking try it.”
She gasps, like she wasn’t expecting it. “Still such a brute,” she laughs, brushing imaginary dust off her thigh. “No wonder you and Bella get along. You’re both so…” her eyes flick to the stage, “…dirty.”
I glance back just in time to see Bella roll her hips in Callum’s lap.
Maddie leans in closer, her voice like a blade. “Oh honey, relax. We’re not here for you.” She grins, sharp and wicked. “We’re here to ruin your girlfriend’s night.”
I turn slowly, eyes locked on her, “What the fuck did you just say?”
“She took our Fight Night, Lex.” She tilts her head like a smug little devil. “Now… we’re taking her party.”
Two beeps. “Is that who I fucking think it is?” Knox’s voice cuts into my ear like a bullet. Tense. Furious.
“Yeah, Knox,” I say into my comms, not blinking. “Looks like the dethroned drama club president and her little gremlins wanna play. You think we let ’em?”
Maddie’s brows pinch. “Who the hell are you talking to?”
I smile. Real slow. “Didn’t you hear?” I tug the comm cord into view. “I’m part of The Trifecta Boyfriend Squad now. Complete with headset and everything, Maddie.”
She scowls.
The crowd behind us explodes. The dance is over and the whole Row’s screaming. Drinks fly, phones flash, people chanting, “TRI-FEC-TA”.
“You’re not taking this party,” I say. “Because your surprise entrance just got fucking busted.”
I set my drink down on the chair handle beside me, not bothering to look at her again. “Maybe try a new strategy next time, Maddie.” I smirk, stepping past her like she’s nothing. “This one’s already dead.”