Page 218 of Barbi and the Villain

I mask my features and plaster a polite smile on my face.

“I know what you’re thinking. Why would the bride-to-be get so drunk at her own engagement party?”

“I’m sure it’s none of my business…”

“I hate him. That wretched Armand. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate. Did I say I hate him? Because I do. He is a wimp and a half, and I’d rather die than marry him. But I don’t even have the luxury of dying,” she grits out, smashing her glass to the ground.

“Erm…”

Okay, so this is Nyk’s sister. They don’t look alike at all. She’s a petite blonde with blue eyes while he’s a giant and a half.

“If only Nykander were here.” She sighs. “He would put an end to this farce.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, not knowing what else to say to comfort her.

“He would have probably killed that wimpy Armand for even daring to look at me,” she continues. “But then again, it’s been a lifetime since I’ve seen him. I doubt he would even recognize me now.”

“Maybe I should leave.” I smile. “And you can have a moment to yourself away from the party.”

“I always thought I would have what he and Mo did,” she slurs out as she rests her head on the table. “He never looked at another. Even to my young eyes that was impressive. That dolt Armand has eleven mistresses. Eleven! When does he even have the time to be with them? It’s outrageous! Damn it! I hope his dick falls off,” she murmurs sleepily.

A moment later, her snores echo in my ears.

My lips purse.

Why do I have to be reminded of that goddamn Mo at every turn?

“Ugh,” I grit aloud as I stomp out of the balcony and back to the ballroom.

Making my way back to the refreshments table, I spot Nykander looking frantically for me. His eyes widen when he spots me, and without a word, he grabs my arm and leads me toward the exit.

“What’s going on?” I frown.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“But—”

“Later, Barbi. It is imperative we leave now.”

I go along with him. As we reach the hallway with the spoils of war, he stops in front of one of the skulls. Reaching behind it, he presses a button that opens a small doorway. He drags me inside and closes the door.

Loud footsteps echo outside the moment we’re inside.

“Come,” he says, pulling me farther down the small corridor. It’s almost pitch-black, but he appears to know where we’re going.

We walk for what feels like forever before we come to a wall. He pushes me behind him as he throws his entire body weight against the wall until it gives way. And when it does, we’re outside, far away from the city or the palace.

“Hold on to me. I’ll teleport us back to the lighthouse.”

He doesn’t give me time to speak as he wraps me in his arms. The next time I open my eyes, we’re back in our room.

He releases a harsh breath as he throws his mask to the bed and drags his fingers through his hair.

“What happened?”

“I must have triggered an alarm or something,” he says, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “But it is all right now. We made it out and they don’t know it was me who triggered the alarm.”

There’s something odd about him.

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