Page 94 of Underground Prince

“Did I walk in on something?” Kai asked me as soon as he shut the door behind us.

I waved him off. “Friend stuff.”

“Really?” he said as we trundled down the stairs. “Because it looked more like fight stuff to me.”

“We’re not arguing,” I said. At least I hoped we weren’t. “We just need to clear up a few things, and now wasn’t the time. I was stupid to bring it up.”

“Ah. It’s your fault, then.”

I reached back, elbowing him lightly in the stomach. Then: “Fine. Yes. It’s my fault. I’m no good at this stuff anymore.”

“Hey, a friendship isn’t made of candy and clouds. Sometimes you have to get down to the mulch of things.” He leaned around me to open the door out of the building.

I sighed. “We’ve been through a lot of shit.”

“Well,” he said, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me in. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me. But tonight, relax and enjoy—just like Vare said. This is an opportunity to mix with the elite. It’ll be exciting to toss hors d’oeuvres at them and then point at the person next to you as the culprit. Won’t it?”

I cracked a smile as he led me to a waiting town car. “I doubt we’ll ever be asked back again.”

“Exactly.” Kai let me slide in the back first before getting in. “Driver, onwards!”

I whistled. “Goodness, you’re treating me right tonight.”

“A vixen like you? In a dress like that? Absolutely. But mostly,” he said, leaning into my ear, “I’m here to watch Sax do his damnedest to resist you. And he will.”

I replied with a side-eyed squint. “I’ll win.”

“Lady, I’ve seen you at the tables. I know you will.”

21

WELCOME, SWEET GIRL

We pulled up to the Park Avenue entrance of a massive Art Deco building with two interconnecting towers spearing the sky. A doorman with white gloves opened the car door for us and Kai helped me out with a hand. He tucked mine into the crook of his elbow as we headed to the lavish entryway and entered into the huge expanse of the lobby, filled with black marble columns, a gilded ceiling and some sort of circular mosaic on the floor featuring thousands upon thousands of tiny tiles. Soon we were directed to the ballroom elevators that ascended to the third floor venues, and we stepped out into a wide, seemingly limitless hallway.

I counted at least four glittering chandeliers hanging miles above us, and my heels echoed as we walked. I hadn’t let go of Kai since he’d scooted me beside him.

“Here we are,” Kai said, and swept an arm out to guide me into the Grand Ballroom.

At least four stories high, the ballroom was one of the most ornate rooms—if one could even call it aroom—I’d ever seen. A chandelier atleastfifteen feet in diameter swooped from the center ceiling, with rows of circular balconies framing the ground floor, each with their own chandelier, too. A large stage draped in red velvet opened up in front of me, with circular tables amassed along the floor area, decorated with white linen, elaborate bouquets and gold-rimmed plates. No one had taken their seats yet; all were mingling and glittering and generally resembling beings not of this earth.

“How much did this cost you?” I asked Kai.

He patted my shoulder. “A gentleman never tells. Now quit dawdling and come with me.”

We wandered, Kai nodding at a few guests as we passed as if he knew who they were, scanning faces and pointing out known celebrities and controversial politicians.

“And here we have it,” Kai said, pointing to my two o’clock. “The Attorney General himself, Howard Hornsby, along with his newest protégé, Nathan Westcott. That’s his fiancée beside him. She was involved in quite the scandal not to long ag—”

“Huh,” I said, but became distracted by a woman strolling by with a massive headpiece made of gold leaf and silk.

“Ah ha. Just the face I’ve been looking for.” Kai motioned past a few tables and clusters of bejeweled groups, targeting a man I didn’t recognize. I was half hoping he spotted Theo.

“That is the infamous Gordon W. Saxon, father of your current heartthrob,” he said.

I went onto my tiptoes to get a better view through all the talking heads, and I picked him out immediately. He was tall, slim yet muscular, and impeccably dressed. Thick salt-and-pepper hair was combed back from his tanned, angular face, and from this distance of five or six tables away, his eyes were flawless blue gems.

He didn’t look like any mob boss I’d come to be familiar with in movies. He was handsome. Jovial. A host with his guests in mind as he greeted them with a toothy smile and a handshake.

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