Page 138 of Brutal Prince

I stare at my reflection,frowning critically at the fit of my black tuxedo. It’s a bit tighter in the arms than I’d like — I last wore this a year ago, and I’ve been bulking up my biceps since then — but I doubt I’ll be keeping my jacket on for long. One thing about Dylan’s parties? They might all start out as black-tie events, but by the end of the night they usually devolve into wet t-shirt competitions.

I’ve combed my hair back, but I’m not sure I like the city-slicker look it gives me. I tilt up my chin and adjust my bow tie.

My phone rings, and I answer it with a terse, “Hello?” without checking who’s calling.

“Hey, man, you wanna take one car to Dylan’s?”

I open my mouth to accept, but then I hesitate. I plan on bringing Indi home with me, and it’s gonna be hella awkward if Marcus is hitching a ride.

“Actually, go on ahead. I have a few things to do before I pull through.”

“Sure? I don’t mind making some stops.”

“Yeah, I’ll just meet you there.”

Marcus is quiet for a second. “Okay, sure.”

I bite the inside of my cheek. He doesn’t sound happy. He also sounds as if he started the party early. It’s an unspoken agreement — at these types of parties, only one of us drinks. Since the thing with Jess, it’s almost always been him doing the drinking. I’d have thought common sense…

“Hey, you’ll be keeping an eye on me, right?” I say through a laugh. “Make sure I don’t get too wasted?”

Marcus laughs too, and I realize I was imagining things when he says, “Dude, of course. This is my last drink for the night.”

I end the call with a smile, and turn back to the mirror. I guess it’s good for Indi to see me all cleaned up and shit. Maybe she’ll start to realize she’s not dealing with some high school kid anymore, but a man.

Because fuck, I definitely don’t look like a kid tonight.

* * *

There’sa parking spot open beside Marcus’s SUV — my usual spot. I guide my Mustang into the bay and turn off the ignition, taking a few seconds to soak everything in. Dylan’s glass and limestone mansion is almost a mile away from Addy’s house. It sits on a small rise looking out on most of the eighteen-hole golf course in the middle of the estate.

There are a ton of cars parked out here. I know Dylan has to jump through hoops every time he has one these shindigs just to get the golf course to accept this amount of strangers inside its boomed-off premises, but he gets it right every time.

I adjust my tie, run my hands through my combed-back hair, and head for the front door. One of the guys from our football team stands nearby, a clipboard in his hand. There’s a line of kids waiting to get in, but I ignore them as I head straight for the door,

“Hey, man,” I say, walking right up to Jeremiah. “Indi Virgo check in yet?”

Jeremiah consults his clipboard, and then shakes his head. I pat his shoulder. “Let me know when she gets here.”

He nods and steps aside, unhitching the red rope so I can pass. I hear murmured complaints from the queue behind me, but none loud enough for me to make out actual words.

The bottom level of the house has a few separate lounge areas, mostly intimate, all crammed with girls in whorish cocktail dresses and uncomfortable guys in suits. There are already some loose ties and rolled-up sleeves — and the party hasn’t even begun yet.

I find Dylan in the game room, playing pool with Zak and a few other guys from our team. The music thumping from the dance floor beneath makes it almost impossible to hear anything over the bass track.

I check my watch. Ten minutes to eleven. Did Indi honestly chicken out?

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I’m grinning before I even turn around. “My man,” I say, chest-bumping Marcus. He’s also wearing a tuxedo, but where mine is a little tight, his seems to be hanging looser than it did last year.

All the drinking, I guess. That, and I barely see him eat anymore.

“Let’s get a drink,” he mouths, cocking his head back the way I just came in. I slip my phone out, checking the screen to make sure I haven’t received any notifications. Jeremiah has my number, so he’s bound to call or text when Indi shows up.

“She not here yet?” Marcus says, raising his voice above the music as we head into one of the hallways leading to the smaller kitchen where Dylan keeps his alcohol.

“Not yet.” I grin at him. “But she’ll come.”

Marcus doesn’t look convinced, but I ignore him.

She will be my date tonight. Even if I have to go to her house, throw her over my shoulder, and bring her back here myself.

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