Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Reece
Islip past the main staircase just as Dahlia walks down, dressed in a beautiful purple floor-length gown. She smiles and nods at me as she passes before disappearing down the hall. I’m about to head to the parlor when Mari steps out of her room near the top of the steps and into my line of sight.
Words die in my throat.
Everything inside me comes alive at the vision she makes. Stunning doesn’t begin to cover how she looks.
She pauses when she spots me, one hand lightly touching the banister, as if she already knows the effect she will have on people, and maybe she does.
The dress she’s wearing is gorgeous, a soft and shimmering white that gives way to fiery oranges and yellows.
It hugs her body in a way that makes my brain briefly stop functioning altogether.
“Mari… You look…” I shake my head as she floats down to meet me in the foyer. “I don’t think I actually have words.”
Her expression turns teasing. “Because I look like an overstuffed turkey?”
“No,” I say, still strangled, “because you look…” My voice roughens. “Glamorous. Like what I imagine a true Luxe is supposed to look like.”
At first she just stares at me, then her cheeks turn pink.
God. She’s like a dream.
“It’s not too much?” she asks, running a hand down the tight bodice.
“No.” I clear my throat and force myself to look somewhere safer than the ample curves of her breasts. “Definitely not.”
Mari shifts her weight, and I make the mistake of looking at her again. Her hair falls in soft waves above her bare shoulders, and her scent floods my senses so intensely it’s hard to believe she’s wearing blocker at all, even though I know she is.
I can detect the muted chemical edge of the blocker, that strange dampening effect meant to keep an Omega’s scent under control, but it’s barely there to me. Breathing her in is like running through a field of spring wildflowers beneath warm sunlight, dizzying and sweet enough to make my head spin.
“Oh. You’re dressed up too,” she says suddenly.
I glance down at myself on instinct. I’d changed into the formal uniform all maids and servants were given for parties, mostly because Mrs. Gardener had asked the staff to look more presentable with guests constantly moving through the house now.
“Yeah, I am.”
“Well,” Mari says, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “you look good, Reece. And I’m just trying not to panic tonight.”
I huff out a laugh. “You? You could walk into a room full of strangers and have every single person obsessed with you in under five minutes.”
“You really think so?”
“I know so.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Silence stretches between us for one dangerous second too long. Then Mari looks down quickly, adjusting the sparkly evening purse hanging from her wrist. “Heath’s probably losing his mind. Is he already in the limo?”
“I believe he is.”
“I’d better get going then.” But as she tries to step around me, the purse slips from her fingers. “Oh—”
When it hits the hardwood floor with a soft thud, something silver and rectangular slides out.
I freeze on the spot.
It’s my box. My voice changer, the one meant to be an Omega heat suppressor.
Oh, no.
No, no, no.
Shit!
In what feels like slow motion, Mari gasps and reaches for the box at the exact same moment I do. She’s faster than I am, though, and manages to snatch the device first, quickly shoving it back into her purse and zippering it closed this time. Her face flames bright red.
“I—I, uh—I should go,” she blurts. “Good night!” Then she all but runs out the front door to where a very impatient Heath waits beside a black limousine.
I stare after her, still in shock. Even when I close the door, blocking out the sight of her completely, I can’t breathe.
She has it.
All this time, Mari has had my prototype. The one I thought I lost at the Ackerman estate, the one Xavier and Killian couldn’t find. No wonder.
And I can’t even ask for it back without exposing myself as the fake Alpha she calls No One.
Oh, man. I’m in such deep shit, and right now, there’s no good way out.
The ride to Highbridge Hall is long, almost an hour, since it’s in the countryside of Sabine.
Moonlight slides across the truck’s windows in a long silvery streak as Xavier drives with one hand resting loosely on the wheel. Every few seconds, I catch him glancing at me in the passenger seat like he wants to say something—or sign something—but already knows it won’t matter.
I still can’t believe I’m doing this again, wearing the white tux and mask to impersonate an Alpha, but I didn’t know what else to do. Calling Nightshade on the Gardeners’ house phone the moment the family all cleared out, asking Killian and Xavier for another favor, seemed like the only option.
I have to get that box back.
I thought I’d be able to recreate something for Stockton, but if the other day with that line of possible mates for Mari proved anything, it’s that time is not in my favor. Especially with Luca in the picture, the Alpha who gave her the sketching pencils during the earlier introductions.
Mari could get a mark tonight.
I’m not ready.
Just the thought makes nausea rock through me. I groan. “This is insane.”
Xavier huffs softly through his nose in agreement.
“I mean it,” I mutter. “If she recognizes me this time, I’m dead.”
One of his brows lifts.
“Okay, maybe not dead, but close enough to count,” I say. “I don’t know how I’m going to get the box out of her purse without her realizing it. I’ve never stolen anything before.”
He pulls the truck to a stop half a block away from Highbridge Hall, where the line of arriving guests already curls down the illuminated drive. Music drifts faintly through the night air.
My stomach twists.
Xavier turns toward me and signs smoothly with one hand.
“Easy for you to say,” I tell him. When Xavier hands me the bottle of cologne, I spray it all over my jacket and pants until I’m coughing from its overpowering pine scent.
A grin flashes across his face, then he signs again.
I pause. “Why?”
He points at my throat.
“Oh yeah, the box…” Without it, my voice won’t be disguised anymore. I’d give myself away with the first syllable.
This just got one thousand percent harder.
“That’s the goal.”
“Aren’t you and Killian supposed to be working the ball tonight?”
Xavier shakes his head.
“Oh.”
I open the door and climb out. The music from the ball swells louder the second I step into the cool night air. Above the trees, the estate glows gold and silver against the dark sky, massive and elegant and intimidating as hell.
I adjust the mask once more, heartbeat hammering beneath my ribs.
Xavier pulls away from the curb and disappears into the stream of passing cars, leaving me alone beneath the massive estate’s lights wearing a borrowed identity and chasing a girl carrying my secrets in her purse.
Drawing in a deep, unsteady breath, I start up the steep hill toward Highbridge Hall.
By the time I reach the top, the full force of the party crashes into me all at once—music swelling through the open doors, laughter echoing off marble and glass, hundreds of voices blending into one overwhelming roar. Instinct tells me to stick to the shadows, but there are barely any to hide in.
Two enormous chandeliers dominate the ballroom ceiling, flooding everything in golden light so bright it feels impossible to disappear beneath it.
And unlike the Ackermans’ party, where people danced in an oversized dining room pretending it was grander than it was, this is a true ballroom.
The mansion has clearly been built for nights like this, for spectacles and performances and crowds of wealthy strangers pretending they weren’t all there to judge one another.
And to make matters worse, hiding is impossible because I’m spotted the moment I walk inside. Within milliseconds, I’m bombarded by Omegas and a few rich Betas. I even recognize the two oldest Hyde daughters among them, clamoring to get my attention.
“You came back,” one Omega says, breathless. “We hoped you would.”
Remembering I shouldn’t talk, I nod and scan the ballroom for a fast exit.
She’s quickly shoved aside as Alicia Dell comes to the front, batting her eyelashes and wearing a slinky dress in white with a matching feather boa around her shoulders.
“You didn’t get to tell us your name last time,” she says. “We’ve all been dying to know.”
“Why all the mystery?” someone else adds. “Masks are so two Seasons ago.”
“Right? Tell us who you are,” another demands.
All I can do is shake my head vigorously and keep trying to push my way away from them. To my luck, the next song is struck up by the orchestra and it’s a popular one from the radio, just with a classical twist.
A few of the ladies squeal in delight and run to the dancefloor, while others walk off to meet their next dance partners according to their minis.
I manage to slip away when a shift in the crowd opens a narrow gap near the drinks table, and I take it, moving along the edge of the ballroom with my head down until I finally see her.
Everything in me locks up, alarm bells clanging in my head.
Mari stands near the edge of the dance floor, speaking with Luca.
Jealousy coils inside me at the sight of them together but it’s hard to focus on anything except her.
Her dress catches the chandelier light with every movement, as though gold and amber flames ripple across the fabric.
Feathers woven through her hair shimmer whenever she turns her head, and the entire effect is so breathtaking that the rest of the ballroom seems to fade into the background.
She looks unreal.
Too brilliant for this room.