Chapter 3
Skulking like a desperate wallflower wasn’t really the first impression I’d been going for, yet here I was.
My mother had given me what she considered a pep talk last night, while we’d completed a rigorous sixteen-step skincare routine ahead of her bridal debut today. This new life was “a fresh start,” she informed me, and she expected me to adapt to this new world order without complaint because the respect of this community was very important to Byron, and so was their support, whatever that meant.
I didn’t ask questions, or even respond really, because it didn’t matter. I would be required to play the role of the perfect society daughter, because I owed my mother a debt. She’d given up everything for me, which meant now, I wasn’t to put a foot wrong. I couldn’t jeopardize this for her in any way or I’d book myself a one-way ticket back to the one place I never wanted to be again.
The fact that she held that threat over me, knowing what it would mean, proved just how little she cared about me and how much more she valued her new-found status as Byron Aston’s wife.
More than her only daughter.
It didn’t seem to occur to her that she’d come out happier and billions of dollars better off with Byron than she’d ever been in a loveless, controlling marriage to my father. She would have stayed with him and died in unconscious misery if it weren’t for me.
So, I didn’t bother pushing back. What would be the point? I’d be railroaded into the life she wanted for us the same way she’d been yanked and zipped and tucked into her wedding dress until it looked like she’d never indulged in more than a lettuce leaf her entire life.
A waiter appeared, brandishing a tray in front of me, and pulling me from my head. “Seared salmon puff with caviar?”
I stared down at the pastry with little black globs on top. I’d do just about anything for a taco right now.
Glancing back up at the waiter, I shook my head, eyes meeting cool brown ones and a friendly smile.
He was cute. And he could be fun to pass some time with at this hellish event.
Before I could offer up so much as a flirtatious smile, a guy slicker than an oil spill stepped into my line of sight, grinning like a squirrel with a nut stash.
“Act like the hired help you are and disappear,” he said, staring down the waiter until the guy backed away and disappeared into the crowd.
I stared at my new friend, a small part of me turned on by his obnoxious attitude, the other part appalled. How screwed up was I that part of me liked the display of dominance?
First I was lusting after my stepbrothers, and now this guy? I needed to see a therapist. My mother could afford the best now that she’d married Byron. Maybe I’d request a trip to space for my next birthday while I was at it.
Hell knows they could afford that, too.
“You know,” my new friend said, leaning in close. His body was angled so he blocked my view of the party. “If you flirt with the help, you’ll earn yourself a reputation around here.”
“Oh, yeah?” I countered, playing along as though his flirting impressed me. This guy was a typical trust fund baby, but he was easy on the eyes and his expensive cologne was getting me high, so I was at least willing to hear him out. “And what kind of reputation is that?”
He smiled in a way only the truly conceited could manage. “That you’re not wife material.”
I held back a snort. Like I cared. I wasn’t looking to become anyone’s wife, least of all to a guy who looked like he ironed his jeans and his mom still bought his underwear for him.
But given my only form of entertainment right now was standing alone against a wall, I was willing to play along.
“Not wife material? Then what kind of girl would I be?”
His eyes lit with a fire that fuelled my ego to unimaginable levels. He wanted me. He was probably already half hard just thinking about railing me in the garden. And right now, I was angry enough at my mother that I’d let him.
The idea of acting out against her was appealing. I didn’t need to maintain the perfect daughter routine where no one could see me and miss the opportunity for rebellion by boning this Chuck Bass wannabe behind the rose bushes purely because I could.
“You’d be the kind of girl that likes to have a good time. The kind that doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks of her. The kind who’s naughty and knows how to take what she wants.” He grinned again. “That’s mistress material, baby.”
I let a smile slip across my face.
Maybe this one was smarter than he looked. He was appealing to my ego. His lines were pure cringe, but I was bored and feeling problematic.
“Well, in that case, how about you get me a drink and we talk about all the ways we could get into trouble?”
He leaned in closer. “Just talk about them?”
I shrugged. “Get me a drink and we’ll see.”
He walked backwards a few steps, waggling his eyebrows at me like a frat bro about to get laid, then disappeared through the crowd towards the bar. He was nothing like my usual type, but right now I didn’t care. I was in a strange place, with people who couldn’t give less of a shit about me. I should at least get an orgasm for my efforts to play nice.
“You won’t get off by getting with him,” came a voice from behind me, a tall body appearing at my side. Presley towered over me, handing me a glass of perfectly chilled champagne.
I took it and downed a large gulp. “Excuse me?”
“Trenton. The loser who was just eye-fucking you.”
Trenton? Yeah, that tracks.
“You won’t get off by hooking up with him.”
So far Presley and I had a total of one conversation between us and he thought it was his place to dish out some protective brotherly advice?
“Are you speaking from experience? Did Trenton fail to show you a good time?”
He eyed me sideways, fighting a grin. “I’ve heard enough from the girls who boned him then came to me for a real fuck that he doesn’t know how to work the female anatomy.” He shrugged. “Or he’s too selfish to give a shit.”
I rounded on him. “Wow, you like your women to chat about their prior conquests while you nail them. Interesting insight.”
He shook his head, smiling from ear to ear. “The fucking sass on you. Sinclair is going to lose his shit.”
Trenton returned to us, two shots of tequila in his hands. He offered my stepbrother a curt nod. “Ah, the football star is here to save the day, like always.”
Presley played football?
I eyed him carefully, taking in the toned set of his shoulders, wondering if his legs had the muscles to match. Sports star would certainly explain the confidence.
Trenton handed a shot glass to me with a grin. “Bottoms up, baby.”
Presley quirked a brow at me that said ‘Really? This guy?’
I ignored him and knocked back the shot.
“Should we find somewhere a little more private?” Trenton levelled Presley with a look that spelled out what an inconvenience he was.
I nodded, downing the rest of my champagne, and Trenton took both glasses, stepping away for a moment to discard them on a nearby table.
Presley leaned in close, his muscled chest pressed against my bare arm. “Have fun with that three-pump chump.”
Then he moved away through the party.
I didn’t need any more people dictating how I could live my life. I’d tolerate it from my mother because I had no other choice, but my new step-brothers could take a long jump off a short dock if they thought telling me what to do was going to bond us.
Trenton took my hand and I let him lead me through the atrium, dodging increasingly drunken guests as we went. A man twirled a woman half his age on the edge of the dancefloor and she stumbled into me, my hand slipping from Trenton’s. The woman giggled an apology at me before jumping back onto the floor with a guy who looked old enough to be her grandfather.
God, I hate it here already.
As we made our way past the bar, Dacre and Sinclair were propped against it, their hard gazes scorching over my skin.
Dacre shook his head like he was disappointed in me. “Bad idea, Bambi.”
I didn’t need to understand the nickname to know that I instantly hated it.
“Seems like a great idea from where I’m standing,” I cut back.
Sinclair’s green eyes were hard. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
Ignoring them, I made my way to the back exit where Trenton was waiting, his hand brushing my lower back as he led me out to the garden.