That’s not the reality.
Probably unsure what to do about my darkness when it’s not directed at her, Story gives me a slow nod. I jerk my chin in the kitchen's direction and she takes a hesitant step forward, giving me one last worried look before she slips through the crowd.
“Let’s go say hello,” Mother says, ignoring my obvious rage. “Doesn’t she look radiant?”
“Stop,” I tell her. “Go get father. We need to talk.”
She pauses, giving me a long look. “Tristian, we’re in the middle of a party. We can’t just walk off.”
“We can do it in private, or we can do it right here.” My voice is low, dangerous, full of threat. “Which do you prefer?”
She holds my eye for a long moment until understanding takes hold. Defiance isn’t my thing. Mostly because they let me do what I want. But things are changing. Rapidly. I’m not a little kid staying out late, drinking until I puke, and having threesomes with debutantes. I’m part of something bigger, and the stakes are higher. The little box they thought I’d grow up to live in will no longer hold me.
“I’ll get your father and meet you in the library.”
Good. That gives me time to get a drink.
She grabs my lapel, her perfectly manicured nails digging into the fabric. “But don’t think just because I’m giving you an opportunity to speak that it means I’m backing down on this,” she says quietly. “I’ve put up with a lot of your nonsense over the years, but coming in here and declaring your intentions with that,” her face twists, “trash, isn’t in the cards.”
She walks off, leaving me in the middle of the room, lines having been drawn. I came here tonight to make a point. To blow my life up a little, burn it down and see what survives in the midst of the ashes. Genevieve being here doesn’t change a thing.
If anything, it just makes the fire burn hotter.
15
Story
I don’t know what it is about Genevieve Carter that turns Tristian from a charming, handsome suitor to a callous, chilling man, but that’s what she does. I try not to be hurt by the abrupt way he dismissed me, or by how he reacted to his ex-girlfriend being at the party, but Tristian’s hang-ups when it comes to her make something inside me bristle and boil. She cheated on him, humiliated him, and slashed at his unwavering narcissism. And she still gets to him, even after all this time. Gen was the catalyst to him assaulting me that night in the laundry room. No matter what else changes in our life, Gen and that night—those ten minutes of complete cruelty and debasement—still stand between us.
I knew coming here was a bad idea. Everything about this party is above me. The successful people, the magnificent estate, the glitz and glam, the dresses and decoration… hell, the cost of catering alone could probably cover a semester’s tuition at Forsyth. Even Daniel’s lifestyle is a fraction of the Mercers’， and I’m not technically even a Payne. I’m the daughter of a sex worker who’s currently in a contract to serve three men. No wonder Tristian sent me to the kitchen with the staff. That’s the kind of place I belong.
The least I can do is make good on Tristian’s promise to the girls. If anyone deserves something sweet, it’s those two. But I don’t make it to the kitchen. Instead, I grab the arm of a waiter and tell him exactly what I need. “Chocolate. Cookies. Ice cream. Sweets. Whatever you’ve got. Please have Benedict send it up to the twins’ room.”
His eyes sweep over me, but I must look authoritative enough, because he nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Now that I’ve accomplished that, I do the exact thing I shouldn’t.
I go looking for Tristian.
Whatever is happening with his parents and Genevieve, it involves me, and I’m not about to get blindsided. I spot the top of his blond hair as he turns down a hallway. Due to the congestion in the room, and a woman stopping me to ask where I got my shoes, by the time I break free from the party and head down the hall, I barely see the dark wood door swing shut—not quite latching.
There’s no mistaking as I approach the door that I’ve found Tristian and his parents. His father’s voice carries into the hall.
“The simple fact that I understand what it’s like to be a Lord is why I’ve allowed this to go so far. The parties and excess—including exploits with the Lady—are part of this phase of your life, one I encourage, but bringing her here—”
“Her mother is a hooker, Tristian!” his mother cuts in, voice belligerent.