Page 115 of A Twisted Arrangement

Christopher stiffens, his wide eyes darting around the room. He looks like an animal that’s just been caught. Not the reaction I was expecting.

“You know the Saint ritual?” I remind him.

He turned eighteen last month, and as a member of the Laurent family, he has the ability to become a Saint in the Order. Everyone knows there’s some kind of ritual, but they keep that shit under lock and key. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just to freak us all out.

I could’ve asked Damon, my older brother, when he went through his earlier this year, but I’m honestly not that curious. As a son of the Everette family, we’ll all be Lords instead of Saints in the Order. It all sounds like bullshit to me.

“Nah, I have it all planned out. Nothing’s going wrong,” he says, his tone a little too rigid. There’s a sharpness to his smile when he looks at me, like it’s edged with something.

I’m about to question him on it. If he really is worried about the initiation, I can call Damon and ask him what the fuck happens in that room.

“Lord Everette, it’s good to see you.” Christopher’s eyes go over my shoulder, and every one of my muscles tense as the presence of my father approaches from behind me.

“Son.” My dad’s crisp tone serves as a warning. Whatever I’m doing, he doesn’t like it, and I better figure out what the fuck the problem is before he has to explain it.

I straighten to my full height and lower my chin, hoping this is enough to appease him. “Father, how are you tonight?”

“Take care of your little brothers,” he commands, not acknowledging my question.

Xander and Bash sit on a nearby sofa, watching the crowd around them while they whisper into each other’s ears. They’re definitely plotting something, and keeping them out of trouble is the last thing I want to do.

“But…” I protest.

My father turns to me, just enough to see his sharp glare, and the temperature plummets around me. “Are you questioning me?”

A chill runs down my spine. Whatever warmth he may have possessed as my father has been annihilated by the need for respect as the Lord of the Order of Saints.

“No, sir.” I stare at my feet, not daring to look up, remembering the sharp crack of Damon’s arm breaking the last time he dared to question our father.

I brace for impact, but thankfully, he walks off in the direction of the back staircase.

Air rushes from my lungs as relief washes over me. I’m such a fucking idiot. I learned young never to back talk to men like my father.

“I better go,” Christopher says, moving to follow him.

“Good luck.”

He smiles back at me. Something in the way he looks has the hair raising on my neck.

“I told you. I’ve got this all planned out.”

I down the rest of my champagne, trying to discard a lingering unease that’s clinging to me. Something feels off about this entire night, and I just want to get the fuck home.

“Miss Laurent. You look delicious this evening.” A booming voice catches my attention, and I’m just fast enough to seeScarlet’s smile falter before she smooths it back into place. The man can’t be younger than sixty, with bushy white eyebrows and a combover that accentuates his receding hairline.

Who the fuck says that kind of thing? I’m expecting her father to step in since he hasn’t left for his son’s initiation yet, but if anything, he looks even happier.

It’s odd that I don’t recognize the man. This isn’t an open party; every member is associated with the Order in some way. The fact that there’s someone here who’s not a member doesn’t make sense, even if Mr. Laurent personally invited him.

I watch as Scarlet holds her hand out for him like she’s supposed to, but she’s paler than she was a second ago, and she visibly tenses when the man brings her fingers to his lips and leaves them there for several moments too long. She just stands there, visibly uncomfortable but not pulling away, not breaking a single society rule that tells her to obey the men around her.

I fucking hate every second of it.

The growing tension in my body doesn’t start to ease until she pulls away from him, but just before she can get her hand free, he tugs her against his chest and reaches around to grab her ass.

The crystal glass shatters in my grip, and the group breaks apart with the loud crack. I shift so my back’s to them, and Scarlet doesn’t see I’ve been watching her. I’ve sliced a line across my palm, and if I’m not fast, I’ll be leaving a trail of blood behind me.

A quick glance over my shoulder shows Scarlet has escaped, and only her father and the pervert stand in my line of sight. Mr. Laurent should be raging, bringing down the full might of the Order. God knows I’d back him up, but instead, he’s smiling and shaking the geezer’s hand. A sickening realization descends on me. This can’t be the guy Christopher was talking about. Right?

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