Chapter 16
Scarlett
The engagement party might’ve sprung up out of nowhere, but no expense was spared.
The Borisovs are hosting it at one of their many wineries in the Willamette Valley.
The night is less about my romance with Alexei and more about mind games and fuckery.
Anyone who’s anyone is going to be there.
Members of the family who are in town or close enough to travel on short notice. Politicians. Business owners.
Chet and Jonas.
Still, it’s a little bit exciting.
I drive the Bugatti again. Widow is ‘nice enough’ to keep letting me use it, even though it’s in his name now.
Yep. We literally took time out of our day to do a title transfer on a three-million-dollar car.
But if that makes him feel secure, then so be it.
It’s a small gesture in the scope of things.
KMZI 66.6 is playing on the radio, hosted by Milicent. My soundtrack for the drive includes “Skin Cleared” by Ashnikko, “Medusa” by Princess Nokia, and “NG” by CHANMINA. Perfect vibes for this bitch tonight.
I whip the car onto a winding road that snakes through forested neighborhoods and farmland, emptying me out into wine country.
Hills of vineyards rise on both sides of the car, impossible to make out in the foggy winter night.
I’ve got my girls out in force, searching for spike strips or ambushes or suspicious police vehicles.
Nothing so far.
At the right turn to the restaurant/winery, I jerk the wheel sharp enough that the two left tires come up off the ground. They crash back down as I gun it up the narrow, twisting one-lane road that slices through the vineyard and empties out in a nearly full parking lot.
There are valets on-site, but I ignore their efforts to flag me down, parking my own car and climbing out with the keys in hand. The boys are driving their own vehicles, while Nisha and Bastian borrowed a red ‘61 Impala SS 409 from our garage.
My friends are just pulling into the lot, but the boys have already parked their own cars and climbed out.
Alexei, from the L88 coupe. Bohnes from the Chevelle. Ash—along with the frog plushie and the samurai sword—in Pavel’s Shelby Cobra. It’s not a ‘63 like the one we dismantled. It’s a ‘65, blue with a white stripe. Worth nearly as much as the Bugatti.
And why am I driving the Bugatti when I have the Devil?
Because Widow has my car.
We look at each other weird when he gets out, flirty and testy, like animals in a mating ritual. Swappin’ cars in Prescott is like sex. More intimate than sex, really. It’s a declaration of undying romance.
The boys’ feet crunch across the gravel as they follow me across the parking lot. In the dark like this, with only the haunting low-light from some Edison bulbs, they’re not human. Alexei, like a vampire. Bohnes is a ghoul. Widow is a werewolf. Ash, he’s a demon.
Handsome.
Distracting, distracting, distracting.
I need to get out of this twilight space and humble myself with the bright lights and the greed inside the restaurant. The menacing. The threats. I chose to drive here alone for a reason. You’re dick-drunk, Scarlett. Sick. Stop that.
I slap at my cheeks, adding color even though I don’t need it. My blush tonight is vibing hard. I had my best girls do my hair and makeup, so I look even better than usual. And let’s be honest: I always look good. So tonight? Yeah, I look my best.
I pause in the gold bloom of a decorative streetlight, turning to look at Bohnes and Widow, Alexei and Ash.
All four of them are right behind me, just out of the light and still in the shadows. I take a step back and gesture for them to move forward. Everyone but Bohnes accepts my invitation. He disappears into the gloom and somehow reappears behind me.
Future Prescott boys will aspire to be this man. He’s a Legend.
Widow in a suit? Well, me and Basti nearly choked to death when he walked into the room, aspirated our cherry sodas and died.
The glory of his haircut makes the entire ensemble unfair, almost cruel.
In a navy-blue suit jacket with black slacks and loafers etched with bones, he’s worth more than anyone at this fancy party could afford. Priceless.
Alexei is in a hunter green suit with a raised chin and an overpowering air of superiority.
Hot. Just enough cold insouciance to seem like he’s in charge without making Burt feel threatened.
He’s wearing a pair of his Papa’s favorite cuff links, a picture of Pavel hidden in his back pocket.
Slicking his pale yellow hair back with a black glove, he looks wicked.
Ash looks like Aspen. He’s in a solid black suit from head to toe.
Even his tie. It’s austere and it’ll look even more outlandish among all the fashionable aristocracy in that room.
The very same people I warned Lemon about.
The man standing in front of me looks like the man she was in love with (albeit with the addition of a katana on his back).
Bohnes slips around beside me, showing off his all-white ensemble. Even more austere and outlandish, especially with his hair. He doesn’t look human at all, not with that black and purple makeup around his eyes. He’s ghastly. Not that it matters. This is our party. We’ll wear whatever we want.
That’s why, like everyone else, I’m wearing a suit.
It’s cut for a feminine shape, nice tucked little jacket and flare-legged slacks.
It’s white with delicate gray pin stripes and a little hat with a veil.
Lacy black bra underneath and no shirt. I’m wearing the suit with obnoxious red heels and my hair in a complicated knot at the base of my neck.
I wanted to bring a tommy gun, but I already promised to be good.
Instead, I hid a semi-auto under my jacket. Very discreet.
A couple walks out the restaurant’s front doors, inadvertently starting tonight’s show.
They spot Ash immediately, stumbling to a stop beside us and gaping.
I wonder what sordid rumors are floating around inside this building.
Whatever they are, these people did not expect to see Aspen Kelly show up to the party.
Wanna bet they’ve seen the cocksucking video, just like Polina did?
“What the fuck are you looking at?” Ash snaps, shapeshifting into his twin right before my eyes. I forbade him from doing that, but I don’t think he’s acting on a conscious level. Just old habit and muscle memory.
He’s going to be Ash tonight, not Aspen.
“N-nothing.” The man doesn’t challenge Ash’s aggression, snatching his girlfriend’s hand and dragging her in the direction of the parking lot.
“You know them?” I whisper and Ash shrugs, eyes on the glass doors that lead into the restaurant.
“Garbage acquaintances of Aspen. Every single person at this party that isn’t with our crew or an unrelated employee should be burned alive.” Ash pushes ahead, storming off in the direction of the doors.
I go after him immediately, unwilling to let him out of my sight.
Bringing him here after Jonas said it’s mine and I want it back, is risky.
Bringing Widow here when the cops already showed up with a warrant, is risky.
Flaunting Bohnes in the light when he operates better under cover of darkness, is risky.
I’m convinced though that the very act of the mob hosting the party will neuter Chet and Jonas.
“Slow down,” I hiss at Ash, walking by his side.
He obliges me, throwing the front doors open and revealing a quiet little foyer space.
On the right, there are shelves with velvet cushions showcasing wine bottles.
Each one has its own spotlight. Fucking pretentious as fuck.
I force myself to smile as I step into the space, declining the employee’s offer to check my jacket.
“Nah, sweetheart, I came in here without a shirt on. Wouldn’t be appropriate to the occasion if I flashed the whole room my lacy tits.
” I wink at her and she blushes, having some sort of bi-awakening as I waltz past her and into a nest of snakes, all of them coiled together in designer clothes and expensive wine.
Everyone stops talking when we enter the space, pausing to clap politely.
Alexei makes sure to stay on my left, Ash moving just ahead of us and Bohnes and Widow behind.
People begin to move toward us, trying to slither around Ash to assess me and Alexei. They’re going to be wondering if I’m strong enough to stand amongst them or if I’ll only be around for a short while. I’ve been in this room for ten seconds and it’s suffocating.
“Breathe. No need to be so tense, my sweet little obelisk.” Bohnes has his hands on my waist and Ash has paused to look over his shoulder at Alexei.
“This is utterly insufferable, having to stand here and pretend like these people haven’t seen the video of me sucking your dick.
” Ash delivers this line without flinching, fully aware that when his father threatened to distribute this video if I didn’t comply—and I didn’t comply—that this was going to happen.
I’ll give it to Jonas Kelly: he knows how to uphold the threats he makes.
“Does it matter?” Alexei asks, sighing as he looks around the room like he’s frustrated by the sight of all these bloodsucking mosquitoes clouding around us.
We’re good at this kind of stuff, me and him, but fuck, we both hate it.
I’m serious: think about living like this forever?
Who would choose that? “There are people in this room whose deviancy would disgust the devil himself. Should I care what their opinions are?”
“You make a fair point,” Ash replies with a serpentine smile. “Those without sin should throw their stones.” He laughs again, even louder this time, and steps aside for the crowd.
People still approach us, feigning polite disinterest at the sight of Bohnes and Widow standing behind me.
Can they feel our energy? Is that it? Because we’re not afraid.
“Uncle Burt!” I call out, waving my hand above the crowd.