“Kind of.”
I blink away a sudden surge of tears, voice cracking when I say, “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Do you want to be there?” he asks. “Take away Ted and all the snobbery. Do you want to schmooze with Tris and do all that dumb ballroom dancing bullshit, ‘kissing under the mistletoe’ garbage?”
Easily, I answer, “Yes.”
“Then fuck him.” I can practically hear Killian’s dismissive shrug. “Seriously, fuck Ted and the horse he rode in on. If you want something, then you fucking take it.”
Sniffling, I add, “His parents hate me. They think I’m trash that’s going to tarnish his name.”
“Then fuck them, too.”
“Killian…” I groan, leaning against the counter. “They invited his ex to be his real date.”
This, at least, gets a rise out of him. “Ex-fucking-scuse me?”
“You should have seen the look on his mother’s face when he talked about dancing with me later. And his dad said…” I trail off, cringing at the memory of his words.
Killian’s voice is ominously low. “What did his dad say?”
I roll my eyes at my sensitivity. “He said the only thing I’m good for is located between my legs.”
“And he’s completely right.”
I freeze, phone pressed to my ear as I turn.
Genevieve stands in the open doorway, skinny and lithe in her beaded dress. She’s holding a flute of champagne, and I must have been completely caught up in my discussion with Killian to have missed the sound of the door opening.
“I’m going to call you back,” I tell Killian, ignoring his protest as I hang up, sliding the phone back into my purse. “Gen.” All those old feelings of inferiority come rushing back. Not just about Tristian, but of being that awkward girl in high school. Gen was the queen bee and I was never anything but the peasant class, barely worth even acknowledging. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”
“I’m sure Tristian didn’t either.” She stalks forward in that feline sort of way, steady and confident in her six-inch-heels. “I know you’ve been caught up in your Royal games, but Tristian is more than a Lord. You realize that, right?” She blinks at me with her big blue eyes. “He’s not the spoiled spawn of a crime boss, or some dirty street-urchin from South Side. He’s a Mercer. And Mercers have their own rules and traditions.” She reaches out to finger the leather cuff on my wrist, seeming unbothered when I yank my hand away. “Girls like you don’t stick around. At least not in public, and not for long.” She’s not saying anything I haven’t thought of myself, but I hate the way she’s looking at me, somehow both smug and sympathetic. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just think it wouldn’t be fair to you to sugarcoat it.”
“Tristian is different,” I say, knowing how weak that sounds, because even I don’t believe it. Not that I’d give her that satisfaction of admitting that. She doesn’t understand what we’ve been through. The bullets and bloodshed. Fire and ash. Jesus, I have this man’s initial is carved into my chest. “Whether his parents accept it or not, he’s a part of something bigger.”
She laughs, teeth white and straight. “Nothing is bigger than the Mercers. Truth is, you’re just a convenient pussy for him to dump his come into.” Head tilting, she gives me a long, narrow-eyed look. “I have been wondering, though. Does he still fuck like a robot? More interested in how he looks than how it feels?” She drops close, whispering in my ear, “He looks anywhere but at you when he comes, doesn’t he?”
My hand snaps up and clenches around her throat, my sharp nails pressing into her flesh.
“Ah!” she gasps, hands flying up. “Let go—”
“Not until you understand something, bitch.” Sneering, I slam her back into the wall, barely hearing her champagne flute shattering on the tile. “Just because you don’t know what to do with a man like Tristian Mercer doesn’t mean I don’t.” My fingers squeeze tighter and I enjoy it—the pained pinch of her brow, the bitter heat in her eyes. The rage takes me over, because the thing is, I’m remembering.
I’m remembering the chilling, lost look in his eyes that day at school when I got on my knees for him in the study room. He didn’t look anywhere else. Not once. I saw every bit of agonizing desperation in his eyes.
“I want to see your complete devotion. Show me.”