Chapter Twenty
Caius
R omy is a damn knockout in the pale blue dress she picked up earlier today. When she came out of the dressing room, I was seconds from following her back in to rip it off her. The woman assisting her, though, beat me to it.
Now that we’re at the venue, I’m not surprised that everyone else also notices how gorgeous she is. The dress fits her lean, muscled form and reveals a whole lot of her sexy leg. Every time she takes a step, she flashes the whole place her sleek skin. My hand twitches to cover the nakedness, hiding her from everyone.
The attention she’s getting is good for me, though. Men and women alike are distracted as she sashays through the ballroom, each gawking at her. Some people whisper, no doubt asking if she’s famous or someone they should know. I like that she’s the topic of conversation. It gives me ample time to survey the people around her.
I scan the area for a restroom. I’ll need to wash my hands before I get caught shaking hands. The last thing I want is to pass her scent to every horndog in this room.
“Keep an eye on her, yeah?” I say to Theo. “I need to make a pitstop at the restroom.”
He nods, unable to keep his eyes off her ass. Shouldn’t be too difficult for him. Grunting my thanks, I excuse myself to head for the restroom. Her phone in my pocket continues to buzz with incoming texts. I wonder what else Bastian is sending her.
There was a method to what he sent and it affected her.
I’m going to find out exactly what it was.
I slip into the bathroom and make my way over to the sink. After enjoying a sniff to remind me of just how sweet she smells, I scrub up with soap and water. Once I’ve dried off, I pluck her phone from my pocket. Since I set up this phone, I bypass her lock screen with a code of my own.
Thanks, Dad.
When I told him I wanted to learn computers, he taught me everything he knew but also hired world-renowned hackers and programmers. I soaked it all up like a sponge. What fifteen-year-old boy doesn’t have dreams of hacking into corporations, websites, and people’s phones for fun? I quite enjoyed that as a teen.
Her text messages are full of Bastian’s videos. When I’d set up her phone, I created spoof contacts of her family that redirected to my phone. The program I created allowed me to reply back to them as her. As for her, I didn’t bother replying as them or forwarding on their messages to her. It was better for making her compliant if she was completely cut off from them.
So how did she get access to him?
I’m a bit miffed that she pulled this maneuver while I was at breakfast today. I pull up the data log of her phone, a background application that tracks everything she does, and confirm that it was added this morning, probably around the time Bastian was getting ready to leave.
Their messages between each other are benign. Then he randomly starts sending her videos to watch. I don’t click on any of them. I’m well-aware of their media tactics. They’re not what I’d expect—something like stories about my family or the like—but are instead about climate change crap. It’s an odd thing to share with her.
It makes me wonder if there’s something in the videos meant to make her compliant again. Neither Langston man was pleased she’d landed in my lap. Her father was agitated that her little spell they’d put her under wore off. It could be a way to bring her back into their fold.
Despite everything I’ve personally done to Romy, the idea of other people doing it to her makes me vibrate with anger.
I shove her phone back into my pocket and head out of the bathroom. Another man is coming inside as I leave. His eyes remain fixed ahead and he walks with purpose. Something about his demeanor makes my skin crawl. I turn my head to watch him as he disappears behind the door.
He was military.
Part of the president’s security detail?
Possible. He’s dressed like me in a tuxedo. There’s no doubt in my mind, though, that he could be lethal with just his hands.
But something was off.
I felt it.
It’s easy to find my group. Romy has gathered a crowd of admirers. I’m okay with letting them get their fill so long as she goes home with me at the end of the night. I watch the bathroom door so I can see when the man comes back out. Seconds later, he emerges and scans the crowd.
He’s looking for someone.
His eyes skate past me like I don’t even exist. When he stops his search, I follow his stare to Romy.
Not again.
I glance over at Dad to see if he is responsible for this. He speaks to an older man, laughing as though he doesn’t have a worry in the world. If he were the one to have sent this man after Romy, I believe he’d be watching the entertainment unfold.
It’s not Dad.
Since the guy is focused, I casually make my way near him. Sure enough, when I get close, I see the tiny star-shaped scar. It’s not the same guy from yesterday. It’s someone new. How many of them have been activated? To what end?
We’re at a heavily secured event. It took us way too long to get through the security at the doors. Whoever this guy is, he can’t do much without getting tackled by a horde of secret servicemen.
So what’s he doing?
Just watching my girl for fun?
I don’t buy that.
“Supernova,” I say to him, loud and firm.
The guy doesn’t even flinch.
Someone is fucking with our CUP Stars. To be able to do this, they’d have to have extensive knowledge of psychology, CIA mind control tactics, and the human brain on a physiological level. There’s not a lot of people out there who could pull something like this off. Either the threat comes from someone else well-versed on the subject or it comes from within. Like my father playing games in the background to fuck with me.
I’m making my way back over to Romy when my phone buzzes in my slacks’ pocket. I pull out my phone, heart in my throat, wondering if it’s Calista again. While it’s an unknown number, it’s not her.
Unknown Number: She’s beautiful.
A chill races through me. I glower at the Star soldier to see if he’s the person behind the text.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown Number: S. Miss me?
Me: What do you want?
Unknown Number: To warn you.
Me: This is a threat?
Unknown Number: No. It’s a warning. Look around, Caius. The wolves are out. Keep your belle of the ball on a leash.
I tear my stare from my phone to look at each and every face I can. These people are all in party mode, laughing and chatting while dressed to the nines. No one, aside from the Star soldier, sticks out.
Me: Where?
Unknown Number: Everywhere. Most don’t stand out so boldly. There are plenty in sheep’s clothing.
Me: Who are you really?
Unknown Number: Your friend.
Me: Show your face. I know you’re here.
Unknown Number: Master of the Obvious. How else would I have an eye on your girl? Who knows, maybe I’m next in line to say hello?
Me: You’re that bold? I’ve got an eye on her. You’ll out yourself. No more hiding behind an untraceable number.
Unknown Number: Honestly, with your prowess in the tech field, I’m shocked you haven’t tracked me down already. I must be getting better at playing the game.
I grit my teeth, aching to get my hands on S’s throat.
Unknown Number: You’re supposed to be Cold Caius Crowne. Where’d that man go? All I see right now is a man quickly losing his cool.
He’s right.
Romy has this effect on me.
Me: Duly noted. What’s your real name?
Unknown Number: In due time you’ll know.
Me: The point of these texts?
Unknown Number: I already told you. To warn you. The bad guys are all around you, lurking in plain sight. Your pretty blonde isn’t safe.
Me: No one will touch a hair on her head. I’ll make sure of it.
Unknown Number: I bet you’ll sure try. But don’t worry, Caius. I have your back. It’s in my interest to keep her safe as well.
My hackles rise at that text.
Me: Why?
I want to throw my phone when it comes back “undeliverable.”
Who is this S and why has he decided to infect my life, filling my head with questions and confusion?
Someone nudges me and I nearly drop my phone.
“Everything okay, Son?” Dad asks, frowning at me. “You don’t look too happy.”
I shove my phone back into my pocket and shrug. “Just dealing with something annoying.”
“Care to share?”
Turning, I nod toward the CUP Star. “Is that you?”
“Is what me?”
“Him. Just like the one at the diner.”
Dad narrows his eyes, studying him. “Perhaps he’s just a hot-blooded male who finds your girlfriend an irresistible piece of ass.” He smirks. “You know, like the rest of the guys practically salivating over her.”
We both know that’s not fucking it.
Not only do I have to worry about this rogue CUP Star, but S is around here somewhere as well. He’s toying with me, showing me he’s steps ahead of me at all times. To what end, though? What does he truly want? Not friendship, that’s for damn sure.
A man with jet-black hair and a chiseled jaw sidles up next to Romy. He says something that makes her blush. Then he points toward the bathroom. She shakes her head, laughs, and playfully pushes him away.
Is that S?
He slinks back into the crowd. I abandon Dad’s side to follow after him. Whoever the hell he is, he needs to know she’s taken, though she did a good job of sending him on his way.
The fucker is tall and has a long stride. I practically have to run to keep up with him. When he reaches a bar area, I stop him with a hand clamped on his shoulder. He startles at my iron grip and whirls around to face me.
“If you want my autograph, man, just ask. No need to accost me.” He huffs with impatience. “What do you want me to sign?”
“Who the fuck are you?” I growl.
The expression of utter horror is almost comical. I suppose he’s used to people falling at his feet.
“James Clayton.” He crosses his arms over his chest and levels me with a glare. “Ring any bells.”
“What did you say to my pregnant girlfriend?” I demand.
He scoffs. “First of all, asshole, I didn’t know she was taken. And her body is bangin’, so I couldn’t tell she was pregnant.”
“What did you say to her?”
“Furthermore,” he says, voice rising, because apparently he loves to talk. “If she were my woman, I’d never leave her side. She’s fucking hot.”
It takes everything in me not to clock this dickhead in the jaw.
“I asked if she was an actress,” he replies slowly like I’m dumb as fuck. “She looks like one. Then I asked her if she wanted to have a quickie in the bathroom. I was mostly joking.”
He’s lucky we’re surrounded by an obnoxious amount of security. If I were anywhere else, I’d let my tightly controlled temper loose and fuck up his pretty face for the fun of it.
This guy is clearly not S.
He’s just another wolf prowling around my girl.
Back to square one.