Page 4 of Double Dare

Clearly, he isn’t thinking, I answer myself.

If he was, he wouldn’t have done this, but what’s done is done, and now I’m left to clean it up as usual.

I’ll give Adrian the night and hope like hell I can make him love me because I refuse to lose what I know is coming my way in a matter of years.

CHAPTER THREE

DANICA

Ishouldn’t have agreed to play—that’s a given at this point, knowing what I have to do, but there is no backing down now.

I look down on myself as I stand at the bottom of the steps of the Youngblood mansion. I’m wearing the only red dress I own. It’s tight, hugging every curve of my body snugly, with a low dip in the front and a slit in the side that goes from my knee, all the way to my hip. Delicate lace lines the plunging v and travels all the way to my collarbone and up my shoulders, still giving people a peek of my flesh underneath. I paired it with a pair of red bottom Louboutins, giving my small five-foot-three frame an extra six inches, and felt pretty confident leaving my home, but now, I feel I stick out like a sore thumb. I looktoosexy.

Every person I’ve seen walk inside is dressed nicely too, but modestly in dresses made of silk and sequins, but all very gray or very black, while the men adorn basic black tuxedos. It’s like they took “black-tie affair” very seriously, or I didn’t get the memo on the theme. Either way, it has me wanting to turn around and leave, but I know I can’t do that.

Hauling myself up the steps, I stop in front of a man with a clipboard. “Good evening,” he starts. “May I have your name?”

I panic slightly as he looks down to his clipboard. I may have an invitation, but what if my name isn’t on the list? “Danica. Danica Smith.”

He nods, then scans the names on his sheet again. “There you are. Enjoy the evening.” He steps to the side with a smile and sweeps his arm in front of him, motioning me inside.

I dip my head and follow his instruction. As soon as my feet break the threshold, I have to take a moment to admire my surroundings.

Crystal chandeliers hang above me, sending colorful rays of light bouncing around me and the polished floors. A double staircase is just beyond the entrance, with a very open ballroom to my left and a formal dining room to my right. Under the mouth of the staircase is a hall that leads to what I assume is a kitchen along with other small rooms tucked off to the sides.

I’m not sure where to go, so I just follow the other guests entering behind me. I head for the ballroom, where men and women in button-ups and white gloves carry silver platters of hors d’oeuvres and champagne. I stop one and grab a glass and slowly sip it as I look around.

Unfortunately, I don’t know many people in Howe. We never socialized or got out much, so this makes being here more than awkward. I feel out of place and unimportant, especially since my outfit doesn’t mesh well, until I scan the back corner and see him.

He’s hard to miss with what he’s wearing along with his looks in general. He’s in black slacks with a red blazer and matching loafers. His square jaw tics as he stares at me, his dark eyes burning a hole in my soul. I try to turn away, but his gaze is too strong. I can’t bring myself to break it.

He takes a swig from the tumbler in his hand, never letting his eyes leave mine, then places it on the tray of a waiter walking by. He moves, stalking forward, parting the sea of people as he goes without a word. It’s like they can feel his presence and don’t need a command—that’s what he exudes. My heartbeat picks up with every step he takes. His walk is more powerful than his gaze, if that’s possible, and that terrifies me.

Once he’s in front of me, he stops and stares at me down the bridge of his nose. I could look at him all night from across the room, but with him in front of me—in my personal space—I don’t know how I’ll keep it together.

He looms over me, standing at least six foot five. “Danica?” His voice is low. Gravelly.Sexy.

“Yes.”

“Your brother said you would be here.”

I nod with a smile as more questions swirl in my mind. Of course, Dario had to have some sort of contact to get the invitation, but it still doesn’t make sense to me. Like I’m missing an important piece to the fucked-up puzzle.

“Oh? Is he a friend of yours?” I try to pry while making conversation.

He scoffs with a small smile of his own before leaning down to whisper in my ear. “Right now, your brother isn’t what I want to talk about.”

I shift on my feet, brushing my body against his. “Then what is it you want to talk about?”

He pushes my hair behind my shoulder, and I can feel his warm breath hit my skin as he talks, sending a chill down my spine. “I don’t want to talk. I want to see you out of that dress.” He snakes one hand behind me, letting it rest on the small of my back, then leads me out of the ballroom and up the stairs.

Maybe this will be easier than I thought.

But then the reality hits me again. This is Adrian Youngblood. Mafia fucking prince. Do I really want to follow him to an empty, dark floor of his mansion?

Give him one night. Dario’s words swim around my head.

One dare. One night. I can do this. Ihaveto do this.

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