Page 89 of Spearcrest Prince

She is the picture-perfect representation of everything I want. When we arrive at the party, me in black trousers and a loose silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down my waist and her in pink with all that golden hair down her back, we’re going to catch everyone’s eyes.

This is what I want.

This is what I want, right?

I try not to think about Anaïs. It would do me no good. I need to be calm, collected, careless. Besides, it would be rude to Mellie to have her on my arm while I’m thinking of another girl—even if that girl is my pain-in-the-ass fiancée.

As soon as I arrive at the party in the old building behind the arboretum, I realise coming here was a mistake. I’m too tired, too on edge. My nerves are shot, my skin is electric.

To dull the edge, I grab two glasses of champagne and give Mellie one. We tap our glasses together. She takes a sip of her drink; I down mine.

I head over to where Zachary is standing, shoulder against a pillar, with Iakov. Although they’re talking, Zachary’s eyes are searching the crowd.

I follow his gaze and am completely unsurprised when it ends on Theodora, looking breathtaking in sage-green silk, surrounded by hopeless admirers. I’m sure this must be torture for Zach; I’m almost cheered up by his pain.

It’s proof Evan and I aren’t the only ones suffering. It’s proof that even someone as smart and self-possessed as Zachary isn’t above heartache.

Both Zach and Iakov give me unconvinced looks when I introduce them to Mellie, but they greet her politely. I’m glad Luca isn’t here because I’m certain he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make a cutting comment, or worse yet, make a move on Mellie.

We stand for a while, just talking and drinking. The music becomes louder, faster. Mellie tugs on my hand with growing insistence. Suppressing a sigh, I follow her to the dancefloor where couples are already writhing.

And that’s when I spot her.

Kayana Kilburn is standing between two old stone pillars, flushed from alcohol. She’s in caramel silk and diamonds, and her mouth is open in a wide smile. She’s holding another girl’s hand, and they’re dancing together.

The other girl, of course—inevitably—is Anaïs.

Tonight, she’s in gigantic flowy trousers in ochre silk. Instead of a top, she just wears a Calvin Klein bralette in royal blue. Her plain hair hangs down the same way it always does, tucked behind her ears, unadorned.

She’s wearing dramatic flicks of blue eyeliner but no other make-up. Her only jewellery is the slim gold chain around her neck, the antique Montcroix ring hanging against her sternum.

Where it belongs.

Now that I’ve seen her, I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away.

But I force myself to, turning Mellie in my arms so my back is to Anaïs. Her presence burns against my back like warm rays of sunlight. I place my arms around Mellie’s waist, pulling her closer, hoping—wishing—that her proximity, her sweet perfume, her soft curves will elicit a reaction from me.

Even a flutter in my stomach—even a semi—would be a godsend at this point. A rope for me to hold on to, a hint that I’m not completely lost.

Then the song changes, the music shifts, and the crowd moves. Mellie moulds closer to me, arching into me. I look down to smile encouragingly at her.

When I look up, I see Kay moving in the crowd, caught in some boy’s arm. My gaze searches the room against my will and finds what it’s looking for: Anaïs.

She’s standing against a pillar, a bottle of beer in her hand. She sips slowly, her gaze moving lazily over the crowd. Her eyes brush over mine, at first not seeing. Then the full force of her gaze settles on mine.

My heart catches in my throat. She raises her bottle at me, saluting me over the crowd with a slight smirk.

Holding her gaze, I pull Mellie closer to me. I let my hands curve over her ass, her waist. I pull her flush against me and cup her cheek. Anaïs raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of her beer.

She doesn’t think I’m going to do this. And because she’s looking at me, I can’tnotdo this.

I tilt Mellie’s face and kiss her full on the mouth. She lets out a little moan, and her mouth falls open under mine. My eyes still on Anaïs, I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue into Mellie’s mouth.

Anaïs never breaks the gaze.

I’m so hard my legs feel unsteady for a second. I grip Mellie closer, but I’m not stupid. My cock isn’t hard because I’m holding her, kissing her. My cock is hard because of the way Anaïs is watching me, because of the way I can see the dull flush in her cheeks even from here.

Mellie pulls away to breathe. I glance down to smile at her. Her eyes are bright and glittery, and I’m struck with sudden guilt.

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