Page 39 of King of Justice

“Where did you disappear to last night, anyway?”

“Uh—I had another thing.”

“Chad’s having delusions that you’re not bringing Taya, because there’s someone else we don’t know about.”

“He’s crazy.”

“Is he?”

I poured the smoothie into a giant glass. “Isn’t he always?”

“You have a point.” He paused. “Are you really doing the costume thing?”

“That’s also crazy. I’m not playing his game. If anyone asks, I’m coming as James Bond.”

“That was gonna be mine.”

“You’re more of a Keanu; you can be John Wick.”

He laughed while I took a sip. “Good one, I’m gonna use it.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, any word from Dean?”

“I thought he was sailing?”

“That’s a ‘no’ then. Alright. I guess he’ll be the mystery guest, as always.”

“You can’t count on the man to remain on land for long. Anyway, see you tonight.”

“Bye.”

As known to everyone in my circle, my habit was to debut the latest Italian suit model on New Year’s Eve. That was why I took a deep breath as I approached my dresser, looking at the box with my initials on it before undoing the black velvet bow.

May you have an unforgettable night.

~ Marco

My good friend—the designer—had signed it with his own handwriting, as per usual. A part of me was glad that Sophie wasn’t here, or this would have driven her up the wall. On the other hand, I looked at my phone and picked it up, calling her number without much thought. It rang and rang, and she didn’t pick up. When I switched back to the chat, I saw that she had read my text and didn’t respond.

That was the last straw.

Determined to have a good time, I got dressed and went downstairs into the garage, heading toward my Mercedes GL. If Sophie couldn’t appreciate that I went to her myself after she had rejected me, there was nothing more I could do. And I wasn’t going to allow her to make me feel guilty—not for my wealth, nor for anything else that I had worked hard for.

At the party, I was greeted by the usual faces and unusual costumes dictated by Chad’s ‘Pajama Party’ theme. Naturally, he wanted to see all the attractive women in their boudoir states—something Abel and I joked about as we watched a train of famous underwear models walk in donning colorful, skimpy negligees.

But as they cleared my field of vision, they revealed a gorgeous brunette with bronze skin and deep brown eyes. She was standing in a corner, wearing modest, long-sleeved pajamas with cartoon characters on them. They were pink, which I thought was interesting. As I approached, I thought up a line with which I could use to rid her of her current conversation partner.

“I was actually never a fan of cartoons when I was little,” I heard her say. She held up the champagne flute to her lips and smiled at him.

He tilted his head. “Really? What were you into?”

“Damn if I can remember. But I know I appreciated them later in life.”

With my hands in my pockets, I looked down at the towel he had wrapped around his waist and cleared my throat. “Pardon my interruption, but Ray, I gotta ask… who sleeps in a towel?”

He smugly grinned. “I have, more than once.” Turning to her, he shrugged. “It always falls off.”

I hadn’t regarded her with any eye contact until that moment, so when I finally turned to look at her, her gaze was already studying my outfit. “And you… sleep in a suit?”

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