Page 22 of A Twisted Arrangement

There’s a tentlike structure that reaches all the way to the car, made of a bloodred velvet-like fabric that makes it near impossible for the paparazzi to get a clear shot. The entire thing is designed to keep others out, to maintain the secrecy of the Order while simultaneously rubbing it in people’s faces.

I’ve spent my entire life coming to these events, and the starry-eyed response I had as a kid wore off a long time ago. It was at one of these events that I met the man my father sold me off to. It was a sham of an arranged marriage. One where my father was more than happy to sell his teenage daughter to get the funds he wanted.

This time, it’s different though. My heart kicks up as I make my way through the fabric tunnel lit by wide globes on either side.

The hall itself is decorated beautifully, as always. The theme is a midnight tryst. Whoever designed it used the opportunity to create divisions in the space, with low-hanging drapery giving it an enclosed, private feeling. Mixed with the masks, it’s as if, even in a crowd of people, no one will be looking. Which is a thousand percent untrue.

Nothing happens here without everyone knowing.

I make my way through the throng of people, careful not to be pulled into a conversation. I’m barely tolerated at events like this. I’m not naive enough to think these men believe I deserve to remain here. Not after what my family did.

I let my gaze skim the crowd, not even bothering to lie to myself about who I’m looking for.

I still haven’t decided if that’s to seek Matthias out or hide from him. He left me completely confused and more than a little overwhelmed after our last meeting.

The fact that he bought the company I work for both impresses me and pisses me off.

He wants more access to me, but I can’t for the life of me sort out why. Why now?

Taking a sip of champagne a server generously brought me, I slowly circle the room. I’ve been doing this for ages, slowly watching everyone, learning their secrets while keeping my own.

Secrets are power, after all, and I’ve used them to maintain my position more than once. Not that I truly care about being a member of the Order. Women don’t participate anyway, but there’s always been something I can’t quite place tying me to this world.

“Fancy seeing you here.” A voice comes from directly beside me, startling me out of my thoughts.

“Bash!” I stumble back, and he catches me easily with one arm, then lets me go.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses my gloved knuckles. “You look ravishing, Miss Laurent.”

“You look all grown up.” I smirk, because he does. Gone is the little boy stuck in the room with his brother. He’s dashing in his black-on-black tux, standing at least half a foot taller than me. He’s not wearing his mask, leaving the devious gleam in his eyes on full display.

“Does that mean you’ll hide away with me tonight?”

He’s got this whole roguish charm going for him, and I’m starting to feel bad for all the hearts he’s broken.

Damon approaches and shakes his head. “You know I can’t stop him.”

At first, I think it’s directed at me, but Bash yanks his hand away and gives a cheeky grin.

“Right. I don’t want to die tonight.”

“Why do people keep saying that?” It’s not like I’d kill him for touching my hand.

He grins. “Because it’s likely, and I want to live. I’m too pretty to die this young.”

I huff out a laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I though? I better go before I get into any more trouble.” He bows low and looks at Damon. “Save me?”

The eldest Everette raises a brow but turns to me. “I have to get back to my wife. If you find time, come say hi. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”

There’s so much love in his eyes it makes me go all gooey. “Of course. I’d love to.”

He grips Bash around the back of his neck and drags him through the crowd while whispering to his now very pale younger brother.

Alone again, I slowly weave my way around the dance floor, where couples move in choreographed dances that could be found in the nineteenth century. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the tail of a brilliant pink dress. Misty’s grinning up at Damon as they move together as one, standing out in the crowded room.

“May I have this dance?” the younger Volkov asks, bowing low in front of me. His silver mask reflects his red hair. He wears it longer and ties it low in the back. I don’t really want to dance, preferring to stay on the periphery. Unable to fight the polite etiquette that was ingrained into me from a young age, I let him take my hand.

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