Page 15 of Psyop Kings

Ew.

Pass.

I need someone who isn’t distracted by the female species. Someone who’s more interested in themselves than those around them.

Seconds later, I find my target. The woman is in her late thirties, and by the way she sways slightly, I’d say at least a whole bottle of wine in this evening. Her audience are two other women, who keep exchanging annoyed expressions. I’ll give them their out and isolate her.

“Love your earrings,” I say as I join the group. “Where’d you get them, hon? I’ll need to tell my dad.”

The other two ladies slink away as the one woman fixes her unfocused eyes on me.

“Oh, these old things,” she purrs. “My husband got them while on a work trip in Milan. I’m sure they’re nothing more than costume jewelry.”

I know expensive diamonds when I see them. There’s nothing costume about them, but I play along anyway.

“Guys are clueless sometimes,” I say, sidling up closer to her as though we’re besties. “My high school boyfriend once went to Jared’s for a necklace. Dad made me break up with him shortly after.”

“Smart father,” she responds. “I’m Isla Porter. You’re…”

No sense in lying. “Romy. Just Romy tonight.”

Isla’s glazed brown eyes warm. “You’re a young one, Just Romy.” She smirks conspiratorially at me. “Are you here to see the famous Cazey Tee?”

The way she says the singer’s name with barely held contempt tells me all I need to know on how to proceed.

“Oh God,” I say with a groan. “She’s not singing tonight, is she?” I curl my lip up. “She’s the most overrated pop singer of my lifetime.”

Isla’s shoulders relax. “I think she slept her way to the top. I mean, she came from Oakland.”

I make a scrunched face as though I’m just as disgusted as she is.

“I’m honestly skeptical of her collaboration with the Crownes,” Isla continues. “They’re usually a lot more selective with whom they associate with.” She points a delicate finger past a group of people. “Orion is old-school and loyal to those who’ve been around for decades. She’s probably one of their little project moths. If I had to bet, I’d say she’s also sleeping with one of his boys.”

I want to ask her about what project moths are, but I’m suddenly curious about his boys. When I follow where she’s pointing, I see the famed Orion with three other men.Surrounding them are tuxedo-wearing security detail meant to blend in. They’re obvious if you know what you’re looking for.

“Which one?” I ask, voice low. “The one with his back to us?”

“Theo? I’m sure he’s stuck his dick in half the women at this party.” She chuckles softly. “Except for me. If I ever strayed from Ryan, it’d be with Gareth. He’s the one about to burst out of his tux like the Hulk.”

One of the men, indeed, is incredibly fit. His muscles bulge beneath his tux, threatening to tear the fabric in two. A hint of a tattoo peeks up above his collar. The sides of his head are shaved, and icy-blond hair is slicked back on top. He wears a perpetual smirk that makes you wonder if he’s playful or cruel. Either way, he’s definitely good-looking.

“Where’s the other brother?” I ask, scanning the group, discreetly looking past people who keep stepping in my way.

“He’s around here somewhere. Just look for the creepy one.”

She cackles at her own joke and then waves down a waiter. I’m still searching when she plucks my empty champagne flute out of my hand and replaces it with another one. I sip the cool liquid while continuing to hunt down the creepy one.

As though a draft enters the room, a chill slithers through my veins, spreading quickly throughout my body. I suppress a shiver and wonder why the alcohol isn’t warming me. As Isla babbles about Orion being handsome for his old age, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. My first thought is to look for the beefy guy. He’s huddled with the younger brother, not paying me any attention.

It’s then I lock eyes on a man standing a few feet away from them.

Cold dark eyes bore into me, cutting through me like a knife. My confidence from earlier has evaporated. I feel exposed to the man who has his crosshairs on me. Unable to move, I meet his gaze and attempt not to shudder.

“Caius Crowne,” Isla mutters under her breath. “Like I said. Creepy. Ryan calls him Lurch. Do you know who Lurch is? Lord, you’re just a baby. The answer is no. I’m so old.”

I ignore her rambling to pick apart why she thinks Caius is creepy aside from his menacing stare. He’s at least a decade older than me—and incredibly tall, which allows him to see over those around him. Unlike his brother Gareth, he’s not bursting out of his tuxedo, though he’s broad-shouldered like him. But there’s a quiet strength about Caius. A dangerous aura that emanates from him. Rather than a philanthropist, he gives assassin vibes with his serious, calculated, emotionless stare.

“Come on,” Isla says, nudging me. “I want you to meet Ryan. He’s going to want to eat you up, sugar.”

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