Page 67 of SNOB

Crash!

A commotion comes from the next room as my eyes scan the crowd around us. Moving through the foyer, my pace slows when I pass one of the easels. Ember Everett sits at the bottom of the soul-stirring drawing. What’s her sketchbook doing there?

“Ma’am, can you get down?” A stern voice comes from the drawing room.

“This place is so big!” Ember’s voice comes next, louder than usual. A lightness to it. Weird. “How do you ever find anyone in here?” Is she slurring?

As I move towards her voice, a familiar laugh follows. Gray’s. “I got her.”

My eyes narrow when I enter the room as Gray’s arms wrap around Ember’s legs. He swings her off the bar, the train of her dress flowing behind her. One strap of that dress hangs off her shoulder, her fiery hair wavier than before. Some guests stare, whispering.

I’m quick moving towards the bar. Ember points her finger at the bartender, slurring at him for being a “buzzkill.” She stumbles over her heels, her martini glass spilling over the rim.

“Easy girl,” Gray says, steadying her.

When I get to the bar, I grab her wrist with a hard tug. “I’ll take it from here.”

“Mac, chill.” Gray tries to talk to me like a dog ready to bite. Pushing him back with my free hand, he raises his arms like he’s caught stealing. “It’s not what you think.”

“Ma’am!” The bartender throws his towel down as Ember sticks her tongue out. Like a fucking child. “Security!”

Ignoring Gray, I pull Ember against my chest, bringing my lips to her ear. “Get it the fuck together. You’re embarrassing.” The tension inside me comes out in my voice.

“Fuck you, you asshole!” she spits. Right before the contents of her martini glass end up on my face.

Gray’s laugh doesn’t help the tightness in my jaw, my eyes on the butterfly hanging from Ember’s neck. Tugging it, she stumbles over her heels again but that’s her problem.

Pulling her towards the door for our staff, she pulls back. That only makes her choker tighten. “Real cute, Everett,” I mutter, tugging her through the staff kitchen. It’s different than the marble and polished chrome in the main, even with top-of-the-line equipment. The metal appliances and pots blur, my eyes set on the door as we maneuver around servers and chefs. “I leave you for five minutes and you’ve found Gray’s cock.”

“Don’t you dare throw shade at me when you’re banging Mrs. Robinson.” Ember tugs back, I pull harder.

“I stuck to the plan. You’re being a drunk whore.” Pushing on the back door, the cool night air slaps my heated face. Some staff stare, entertainment for their break time smoke.

“You’re a whore,” she spits as I grab the half-finished cigarette from a staff member. “Did you have fun fucking a dead boy’s mom?” Fuck. Now the staff are really staring.

Flicking the cig to the ground, I pick her up, ignoring the pounding on my back, the squirming on my shoulder. Her body’s as hot as mine, even underneath the fabric of her dress. Each pound only fuels that heat, as frantic as my heartbeat.

The moonlight shines on the pond in the middle of our garden as I round the building, heading to a place no one will look. At least not now.

The closer we get, the louder she gets. “Mac, what are you gonna do?” She pounds on my back harder and harder, each hit rumbling through me. “Mac!” The helipad sits at the far end of the lot, past the line of famous sculptures. Rodin, Michelangelo, Bernini. “Wait, are those real?”

“Shut the fuck up, Ember.” I’ve never heard her like this, my grip tightening around her as Gray’s stupid smile sticks to my brain. I’ll deal with him later.

Once at our chopper, I slide the door open, dumping Ember on one of the leather seats.

“Woah.” Ember’s glossy eyes gaze around the white and beige interior, wood paneling accenting golden buckles. “You own a helicopter?”

With one glance behind to ensure no one’s around, I slide the door closed. “Where’s the phone, Everett?” Sitting in front of her, I stare into those dazed eyes.

She glares back, reaching into her dress by her waist. When she reveals the phone, I grab it out of her hand as she hiccups. “You don’t—hic— have to treat—hic—me like a child.” A hand over her mouth, she giggles.

I’ve never heard her giggle and it makes my face warmer. I want to wrap this seatbelt around her neck and shut her the fuck up. “Don’t act like one.”

It takes her a couple tries to sit forward before those bloodstones burn into mine again. “Hic—You’re just mad—Hic.” She takes a deep breath before trying again. “You’re just mad I was hanging with another Crown. You’re not so special you know.”

“Don’t worry, once I let you go, you can head back to prostituting yourself to the rich.” The phone’s on when I tap the screen, the glass scratched and broken. “From Beau to me to Gray, you really know how to work a town, huh?”

“Did you have all the slutty fun fucking Beau’s mom?” As she moves closer, vodka reeks off her breath.

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