Page 9 of Something Blue

“Well - I cried about it - because that’s the normal thing to do, but when I was talking to your brother and something he said made me realize -I was relieved.”

“Huh?” She splutters, rolling onto her stomach as well, kicking her legs up behind herself.

“What did my brother say? What do you mean?”

“Pfft. I can’t remember what he said - but I wasrelieved,Dalila. And now evenmoreso since I’ve got over the shock of it all. I didn’t want to marry Damion. He’s an amazing person, a good guy, but like - boring.”

I shrug.

“Most arranged marriages are like that. A marriage of convenience.”

“Not yours.” I tilt my head to the side and the room spins.

“I got lucky.”

“I want to get lucky.”

A knock on the door makes us both jump and laugh, Dalila spills champagne on the carpet and brushes her hand across it to hide it, still giggling.

The door pushes open and in walks Mas and Celso.

Mas looks angry as he stares down at the two drunkest girls I think he’s seen in a while.

“What are you doing?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. “Dalila, people have been asking where the bride is.”

“Well—” She huffs indignantly. “Theyshouldbe asking where thegroomis.”

Celso laughs, a deep sexy sound that rumbles through me and I grin at him in my rather un-sober state.

Fuck. He’s even hotter than before. When did that happen?

I shift myself and sit up, my legs getting tangled in the dress, so I hitch it up higher giving myself more space to move.

Celso’s eyes take me in hungrily and I smirk. He thinks I’m hot. I can see it all over his face.

He’s always wanted me. He’s told me more than once.

But I promised my friend I’d never date her brothers. And besides -it’s Celso. He’s not the kind of guy you date. Dark, moody, dangerous and - he takes the term bad boy to a whole different level.

No.

Stop looking at him like that, Neve.

I sigh and try to stand up. But I stumble and fall hard onto my ass again.

Dalila laughs and flops onto her side.

“Don’t laugh at me. You try stand up.” I giggle.

“I can stand up.” She says boldly. “I have no legs.” her laughter slurs her words into a mumble.

The two men are staring at us as though we’ve lost our minds.

Dalila rolls onto her stomach again and pulls her legs beneath herself and braces her body by leaning onto her hands. It doesn’t work.

And we are rolling with laughter again.

“We have to get them into bed.” Mas says, unamused.

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