Chapter 30
thirty
-Serena-
Right on the verge of a heart attack, I slip out of the bathroom while no one’s paying attention, and rejoin the party looking for Set.
Not that he’s so hard to miss. He’s already got the usual circle of businessmen buzzing around him, all fighting for his attention, along with their dates, who also seem to be drooling over him.
I push through the crowd and slip in beside him, only to realize he’s not talking to a businessman. He’s too relaxed, his tone too casual, like he’s not preparing to chop this man’s head off right the next second. That makes me believe he’s a friend.
Does Set even have friends?
And if he does, they’re ridiculously attractive.
The guy I’m looking at has to be at least six feet four, built like damn Hercules, hazel, almost honey eyes, black hair pulled back into a warrior knot with Viking style braids trailing down from the side, a square jaw and the perfect defined small beard…
he sure is competing with Set for the good looks award.
But my man’s got no real match in that department.
Which reminds me I should stop staring before he notices and kills everyone.
And did I just call him my man?
I’m seriously messed up. And since I haven't had nearly enough to drink tonight, I blame it on the lack of alcohol. I need to fix that—ASAP.
I’ve barely spend two seconds beside Set, when I’m just about to excuse myself to chase down a waiter carrying a tray full of booze. But Set grabs my hand before I can move, keeping me in place. “Serena, this is my brother, Ares,” he says, nodding toward the attractive guy he’d been talking to.
Well, that explains it. Damn, their family genes are something else.
I make a slight bow as the man kisses my hand.
Very good manners on this one.
“Ares. Oh, like the Greek God of War,” I say, surprised by his unusual name, but I can’t deny it suits him a little too well. He does look like a modern-day Ares. If Ares had access to designer tuxes and a six-figure skincare routine.
“You know your gods,” the man says with a smile, looking at me, like I just landed from the moon.
Did I say something stupid?
“Ahem,” Set cuts in through the awkward pause. “I’m pretty sure your sister is waving at you.”
My eyes slide over to where she’s standing. “Well, this feels like some kind of weird family reunion. I should probably go talk to her, especially after what I just found out earlier.”
“Don’t go too far,” Set warns, like he still doesn’t trust me.
Like, go where? I bet I have a GPS up my ass. Plus, there’s basically a hit sign taped to my forehead, so if he won’t kill me, someone else will.
I don’t answer, just shoot him a glare and head for my sister, who looks like she’s dying for some company.
Well, she’s not gonna like my company, that’s for sure.
“Where’d Gregory vanish to?” I ask, since I don’t see him around, and I don’t want to say something stupid, only to have him magically appear from nowhere behind me—as it usually happens to me.
“He’s upstairs with some colleagues, doctors, plastic surgeons, whatever. I was just going to the bar to get a drink when I saw you with Set, and since he seems to be involved in a conversation, I decided to steal you away from him for a couple of minutes.”
“Well, that drink sounds like a plan.” We walk to the bar while Christina seems to be scanning the room. Even after we order drinks, she’s still doing it—like she’s looking for someone. And I can’t pretend not to notice, especially after what Set told me about Gregory. “Chris, everything okay?”
“Yeah, why? Why? Why wouldn’t it be?” She tries to sound casual, but I can spot the lie from a mile away.
“Well, I mean, is everything okay between you and Gregory?”
“Why? Did you hear something? Or… see something?” The doubt in her voice confirms it—Set really can read minds.
The thought unsettles me because... what the actual fuck?
How is that even possible? And if that’s possible, then it means he was right about the other thing as well.
She wants to fuck him. Now, honestly—who in their right mind wouldn’t?
“No, what could I possibly hear?” I try to tune back into the conversation and ignore the parallel one still playing in my head. “Is everything okay between you two?” I push, arching an eyebrow, just enough to let her know I’m onto something, without spelling it out.
“Yeah, everything is… actually no. I don’t know where Gregory is. I haven’t seen him for half an hour. I don’t want to seem paranoid, but things aren’t as great between us as I might’ve made them seem. All this fame and beautiful women, it’s gone straight to his head.”
“You are a beautiful woman,” I point out before she lists all her husband's affairs because I can feel that’s where this is heading.
What I didn’t suspect is how much of a jerk he really is.
It takes her a few more drinks to talk about the number of times he cheated on her—right from the beginning.
And I could be a bitch and give her a hard time about always wanting to seem better than me.
As if I were the one who didn’t know what she was doing with her life.
She just always made me feel inferior to her.
Like I’m always screwing things up while she does everything right.
Now, I just feel sorry for her.
Of course, I tell her to leave him, even if I know she won’t.
The money and status he provides are much more important than her self-esteem, or her happiness.
And just when I’m about to launch into a speech I know she’ll ignore, Gregory cuts in, acting like everything is flawless in their perfect Hollywood life.
But I know better. And even if I let them keep up the charade for now, it’s only because I know that’s what my sister wants. I can’t sit here and watch him pretend to be Mr. Perfect while I know he’s probably just as bad as Nick was.
I excuse myself before I say something stupid, then go and look for Set. I saw him a while ago, still talking to his brother.
Still, as much as I look for him at the party, he seems to be gone. Well, that’s not possible, because I know for a fact he wouldn’t leave me here. But then I realize the blonde woman is also gone. And the thought of Gregory hits me, a cold chill running down my spine.
It couldn’t be. It can’t be.
Ugh, but the uncertainty sticks, and it’s only Set’s fault for putting such thoughts in my mind. I don’t want to be jealous, I’m just afraid I have every reason to be.
I’m not gonna let him keep me captive just so he can go fuck another woman.
This whole situation made me paranoid. And since I don’t know anyone else at the party except for my sister—who’d only make me more paranoid—I decide to take a little walk around the house.
Set told me earlier the whole place’s a rental.
Like a vacation house for celebrities, and since downstairs is the main area, upstairs are the bedrooms.
I have a bad feeling about this. Still, I can’t help myself, so I’m just going to have a look anyway. Plenty of people are heading upstairs to the terrace and roof, so it’s not like the place is off-limits.
I convince myself to go up the stairs, even if I hate being so on edge.
But that’s my reality, and I have to accept it.
I don’t think there’s a Paranoid Anonymous—like an AA version for people who can’t let shit go—and I’m not seeing a shrink because I’d probably drive him insane.
Thing is, I just can’t have another person on my conscience.
I don’t go all the way up to the rooftop like everyone else, I just pretend to look at the various pieces of art scattered through the long hallways while I’m also eavesdropping on every door to the point that I hear Jack having sex.
I have no clue who Jack is, nor do I want to know, but there’s a woman in that room calling his name, so he must’ve been doing something right in this world.
I don’t stick and listen in on them, though.
I’ve heard enough to last this lifetime. .. and probably the next.
What the hell am I even doing anyway? Have I lost it?
My sister’s problems affect me more than I like to admit. But just as I’m reflecting on that thought, I pass a room and hear a very familiar voice. “The artifacts are in my safe, so things should be calm for a while.”
Set’s in this room.
Well, he doesn’t seem to be having sex. That’s a relief, so I should go.
I want to walk away. I didn’t come here to spy on him. But just as I’m about to do that, another voice stops me cold.
“Calm?” It’s a woman. “Set darling, you don’t do calm,” she chuckles, and I swear, the urge to kick the door down hits me so hard I can barely hold back. He’s in there with a woman, and by the tone of her voice, it’s that Phro bitch.
Oh, now I’m listening. I don’t give a fuck about my conscience or whatever afterlife punishment is waiting for me. I’ve killed people. I’m already booked for a one-way trip to hell.
“Well, I’ve discovered a new kind of calm recently—been trying to convince myself to dial it down a notch,” Set says from behind the door. “Can’t say it’s working, though. But I was referring to our current situation.”
“Like saving these losers from the threat of an incoming apocalypse?” Phro goes on.
Apocalypse? Please let that be metaphorical.
“Watch it, Phro, his new girlfriend’s one of the losers,” another male voice cuts in, and I’m pretty sure I’ve heard it before.
But seriously though, why am I the loser in this conversation?
“Well, new isn’t exactly the right word when he’s never had one before,” Phro laughs, and I half expect Set to lose his patience with her.
Which he does, but not close enough for my liking. “Okay, that’s enough,” he snaps, more like trying to steer the conversation somewhere—anywhere—else, rather than getting ready to blow her brains out for mouthing off.
“She doesn’t know about us, does she?” The unknown male voice asks.