Chapter 37
thirty-seven
In a freshly pressed suit, I guide Scout through the doors of Omega House, my hand firm at her lower back. My Delta pin gleams against Scout’s white cable-knit sweater. Topping the plaid skirt that she grumbled about wearing. Not that I made her. No matter what she says.
“It’s just that if you’re constantly in a suit, then I can’t show up in jeans. You understand that, right?”
I shrug. “I think you look beautiful no matter what. So I don’t agree—”
“But it’s the principle. I can’t show up with the president and not look the part.” She almost stumbles over the threshold into the gathering room, but I grip her waist tighter. “These heels are going to be the death of me.”
She doesn’t know it, but tucked in my socks is a pair of flats I found in our closet. In case she wants to change.
“Good,” I murmur. “Then I’ll carry you out. And you didn’t have to wear—”
With a snap of her gaze at my face, she protests, “No, I had to wear them.” Something settles in her brain, and she relaxes her shoulders. “Besides, now I almost reach your neck.”
I smile as she raises onto her toes and smacks a rubied-lipstick kiss just above my white collar. If I have to get the shirt cleaned again? I don’t mind it. Not this time.
Maybe I won’t.
When we enter, the heat from the crowd blasts both of us. Loitering couples dressed in suits and sparkling dresses stuff the foyer. Hair piled up high. Perfume and cologne hang thick in the air, sweet and suffocating.
Scout scans the crowd. “I’m glad I thought to dress up.”
Refraining from laughing, I just tell her, “That was smart of you.” I let her think it was her brilliant idea. Even pat her head, stroking her long, chocolate locks.
She glances at me like she’s proud of herself. “Want to mingle?”
I grip her hand and place it on my bicep, then wander toward the parlor on the right. Glasses clink, conversations rise and fall, and the temperature rises ten degrees with the number of couples packed inside.
“Oh, Apollo. This is Olivia Cardell—”
I shove my hand toward my best friend’s fiancée. “Yes, we’ve met. Lovely to see you again. Where is the scoundrel?”
She smiles. “Of course Valen’s not here. Couldn’t come if I paid him. Though…” Olivia points to a camera in the corner of the room. “He’s always with us.”
I wave at the flashing red light and laugh. “Yeah, he is.”
I’d already met Evie Lynx and Amelia Joseph, two others who are important to Scout. They were in her wedding party, along with Olivia. And Ashlyn Donovan.
Aiden Cardell’s appointed. The president of Theta.
Ashlyn strides our way with him attached to her hand like he’s annoyed with the world. Clenched jaw. Serial killer eyes. And a whiskey shoved to his lips.
Scout smiles as she approaches. “Hey. You two having fun?”
“No,” Ashlyn huffs out, and Aiden greets me with a flat look.
I grant him one nod. Just the one.
It’s not that I hate him. He represents everything that’s wrong with this place. Privilege and prestige over hard work and merit.
Scout and Ashlyn babble about something with the same snark in their voices. Aiden finishes his drink and shoves it at some guy like he’s too good to hold an empty glass.
“But yeah…I’m pregnant!”
My attention is brought back to the room when Scout makes the exclamation to her friend.
Ashlyn smiles with genuine joy. “That’s amazing!”
Aiden leans in and wraps his arms around his woman, then peeks up at me. Seriously, yet softly, he says, “Congrats, man. Well done.”
I smirk. I don’t need his praise. But I’m polite. For my wife. “Thanks.”
“And they want us to procreate soon, too. Did you get a wellness bracelet?” Ashlyn’s asking Scout.
Scout nods and flashes hers. Aiden and I simultaneously glance at each other’s wrists. My Rolex is the only thing on mine. And his holds some custom-looking watch. He and I meet eyes for a second. Only a second.
And in that space, something shifts.
We hold a silent conversation.
He sees danger in what the girls are gabbing about. And so do I. He’d die for the girl in his arms. And I would for my wife.
Even if I thought that the fraternities were at war? It dawns on me.
This university? And its games?
It’s a trick.
They’ve kept us wide apart. But the truth settles in like a cold weight in my gut.
I think we’re on the same team.
But we can’t talk openly. Not here.
As if Aiden’s coming to the same realization, his blue eyes hold mine for another beat.
“Want to dance?” Ashlyn asks us, and we aim for the room across the foyer.
Lights are low here, with pink and purple lasers randomly flashing as the DJ booth bumps a deep bass. Anxiety makes my heart thud as hard as the beat. I don’t know how to dance. Never learned. Never cared.
But she does.
So I grab my wife and sort of sway with my hands on her hips, hoping she doesn’t expect me to do something different. Just our regular kitchen dance.
Scout takes over. And forces all the blood to rush from my brain…lower.
She spins around, pressing her ass against my dick, then shifts her hips in rhythm. When she adds a shake and bends over, I about lose it. I can’t be sporting a semi around this party. Especially in gray slacks.
I raise her up, lace my hand around her neck, and hold her tight to my chest. Dipping low, I find her ear and murmur, “You’re being a bad girl. Pregnant…and still acting like this?” I murmur. “You want to be punished?”
Her bottom lip quivers until she bites it. In reply, she grinds on me. Fuck… Walking out of this room is going to be a treat. I try to adjust myself while using her body as my shield.
“Do it.”
“Do what?” I ask.
She shoves her ass back and slithers against me. “Spank me.”
“Damn it, tulip.” I glance toward the bar where Lan is slumped against a seat. “How about a water? I’m miserably hot, and you’re making it worse,” I grit out.
She chuckles and swirls into Ashlyn as Aiden stands like a statue near them.
“With lemon, please!” Scout calls to me as I skirt through the partiers.
I order the waters from the bartender, shirking off my coat, loosening my tie, and undoing the top two buttons of my now soaked shirt. Relief settles across my skin as the cooler air hits me.
“And two scotches. Any Glen will do,” Lan slurs as he sits up. He snaps his fingers and points at me. “You’re drinking with me, brother.”
“Sure, bud. Looks like you need this water, though, more than the other drink.”
He takes a deep breath through his nose and runs his hands through his stringy blond hair. “I said brother, not father. If I need your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”
With a shove, he slides a glass toward me and holds his up. “Toast?”
“What do you want to toast to?”
His eyes take in the scene over my shoulder before giving me a sober look. “To family.”
There’s something sad about the way he says it. “To family,” I repeat, then hurry to clink my glass to his and sip a drink of the harsh liquid.
“You’re okay, Apollo Griffin. Not stellar. You don’t make waves. But you’re a solid, immovable person. I can sense it.” He cuts himself off with a spit curse under his breath. Then he mutters something low I can’t understand.
“Thanks?”
“Oh, shit.”
I blink as his eyes widen and search the room behind me. Turning around, my blood freezes in my arteries.
Ayan Dutta and Scout are having some type of shouting match in the middle of the floor. Aiden and Ashlyn crowd them, and I’m off my seat before I know what I’m doing. Landon staggers closely behind.
“First, you cheat. Then, you kill my father.” His hand reaches out to grab her chin, but Scout pulls back as I snag her away from him. “And you’ll pay. Forever—”
I slam both hands into his chest and send him flying. He falls to the floor in a heap of embarrassment and rage.
Straddling his legs, I ball my fists. “She’ll do what?”
Landon stumbles forward and grips his shirt, pulling him up. “What the fuck did you say about my sister?”
Scout grips my arm and pulls me back. Her eyes grow serious and her expression stern. “Don’t,” she pleads with me. With a nod toward the blinking camera in the corner of the room, I take a step back.
“Let him go.”
Lan freezes and glances back at me as if he’s confused. “Let him—”
“Go. Yes. Let him go. Before I kill him.”
Lan reluctantly drops Ayan, who scrambles away.
“Fuck you both.” Ayan pauses in the doorway as the crowd and music die to a chilly silence. “The second she’s alone? I’m ripping her away from you, Griffin.”
Aiden Cardell’s fingers point toward the doorway. That’s it. No fancy fanfare. Evaporating out of the atmosphere, four Thetas surround Ayan and escort him out the front door.
I toss him a look of gratitude while gripping my wife’s hand. With a hurry in my step, I lead us to the downstairs bathroom and lock the door.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, but we need to play it cool. Especially right now—”
I grab her and hold her to my chest. “I know. I know…”
But even as I take a breath of relief, my phone buzzes in my pocket. When I pull it out, it takes me a second to process what I’m reading.
My heart sinks.
The president wants to see me on Monday…