Page 53 of Savannah Royals
Without looking up from his bowl, Abe triumphantly flicks his spoon.
“His parents host an annual Hallows’ Eve party at their cottage on Jekyll Island to open the club’s season. It’s on Saturday, and yes, he invited me. To Jekyll Island.”
Paul studies my face, but I keep it blank. It doesn’t matter what he says. I’ve already made up my mind to go, but I don’t want him to know that. The mark of a good queen is letting her king think he’s the one holding the cards.
“He invited you…” Paul repeats slowly. “To the Jekyll Island Club?”
“Yes.”
Nothing else needs to be said. The promise of opportunity hanging in the air is more than enough bait.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “We’ll go out Friday instead. And you’re gonna look around that house very closely while you’re there. Every nook, every cranny. The whole damn club if you can manage it. Get your little boyfriend to give you a grand tour.”
I nod.
“And Friday night, when we’re together,” he continues, “I’m going to screw your brains out. So you don’t forget who you actually belong to.”
Abe snorts into his bowl.
“Hey, peanut gallery,” Paul warns, “I’ve heard just about enough outta you.”
“I know who I belong to, Paul.” I sidle over and press my lips to his.
His kiss is as fierce and powerful as ever; it feels good and achingly familiar. The usual fire ignites. I let him pull me into the bedroom and kick the door closed.
I stay with him for two hours, being enjoyed by him and enjoying being his. Because it’s true: I am his, and he is mine.
But deep down, I know that I don’t belong to anyone but myself.
I choose who I give myself to. And tonight, I choose him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mellie’seyesarefullof longing as I get ready for the party on Saturday.
“I wish I was invited.” She sighs wistfully from a stretched-out position on her bed.
I don’t deign to reply. I finish fastening a pair of square, French-cut diamond studs in my ears—a little gift from Raymond. One he doesn’t realize he’s lending me for the party. I wonder, faintly, if I should consider a matching pair of emerald and obsidian earrings to complement the Cleopatra collar and ring…but I’ve barely had any time to work on my pet project. Best finish what I’ve started before adding more to my plate.
I dig through my closet until I find my black high heels, then reach for the final touch—a black-velvet cat-ear headband. I slip it on and turn to face Mellie. “Well, what do you think?”
“Do you want my honest opinion? Or the sugarcoated one?”
“Oh, Mellie.” I laugh softly. “I think you’ll give me the honest one whether I want to hear it or not.”
“It’s a lot, Kat,” she says, eyeing me from head to toe. “I mean, you look quite hotsy-totsy, and it’s certainly…progressive.”
“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment.”
“Matthew will like it.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because I can see your gams,” she points out.
I spin around to the mirror, checking myself. I fluff the tulle around my waist speculatively.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, if my legs looked like that”—she gestures at me—“maybe I’d wear an outfit like that too. But probably not.”
