Page 14 of Wreckin' Amethyst

“Don’t hurt him,” Sebby’s breath fans my back. “He suffers enough. Forcing himself to crave the Elites, just to keep the peace. They’re Carter’s idea of perfect, not his.” A hint of desperation and longing twinges Sebby’s tone. As I turn, I slink my arm through the crook of his.

“It isn’t my intention to do anything with Myles, especially being craved by him.” Sebby visibly relaxes, his chest puffing out in a crisp, white shirt. Despite being the shortest of the guys, he still rivals my height in heels. His suit fits snuggly, tailored to sculpt his muscled body. Black tie knotted high into his collar, I’m briefly curious about the hint of ink pushing against the cotton on his arms.

Charley returns from the bathroom, having raided the duffle bag we’ve hidden in the hollow compartment beneath a bath panel and donned her own full set of diamonds. Clusters of gems hang from her ears on thin chains; her neck, wrist and fingers all shining like a beacon of wealth. Firmly nodding her head, I gesture for Sebby to lead us to the party, keeping my arm in his the entire way.

Stepping off the bottom stairs, onto the lower level of the manor, streams of guests enter through the double doors. A butler either side offers champagne flutes from silver trays. I divert, tugging Sebby along to grab a glass for Charley and then myself. She smiles, although I note the spike of jealousy in her rigid posture. Not for the handsome man on my arm, because anyone with eyes can see he’s no threat, but for the fact I always seem to flourish without trying. No matter how many manifestation journals or podcasts she endures, I keep telling her – it’s all in the confidence.

Following the crowd along a hallway I’ve only briefly explored with Myles hovering over my shoulder, we glide slowly towards the open ballroom entrance. I’m yet to see the main man since his outburst earlier this afternoon. Only to myself, I’ll admit – I was impressed.

After what I’d read in the magazine about his convictions, I had to test Myles’ restraint myself. Set a baseline for how far I could push him before he caved. He was able to take my taunting, even through a haze of sexual frustration. Guilty of previous crimes or not, he’s doing well to control his urges now, and that puts a damper on my fun. Had I been in the company of a wealthy rapist, I would have taken pleasure in pulling out my dagger for another play. Instead, I’ll have to settle for toying with his psyche.

The ballroom displayed before us is nothing short of castle worthy. Crystal chandeliers spiral downward from an arching sky-blue ceiling, illuminating the glimmering golden walls and a floor so polished, it should come with a ‘slippery surface’ sign. A full orchestra claims the gold steps on the far left behind red ropes, playing a delightful mix of pop songs in the gentle harmony of woodwind and brass. Guests are drawn towards the huge windows, displaying the expansive estate beneath an ombre sunset.

“I have a question,” I spin on Sebby, downing the champagne and handing him the empty glass. “Does Myles know you’re in love with him?” His arm tenses in mine, his whole body stiffening as I’m clicking my tongue around my mouth. The bubbles continue to fizzle, a crisp tingle fresh in my throat.

“What?! That’s ridiculous,” Sebby rushes out in one breath. Charley and I share a knowing look.

“So, the sexual tension between the two of you-” Sebby yanks me away from those piling through the entrance, his eyes darkening with malice.

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” he growls this time, caging me into an unnecessary velvet curtain which lines the wide doorway. I laugh, easing him back a step.

“Consider the topic dropped.” Sebby watches me clearly, hunting for…something. Ridicule, perhaps? Easing the deep frown from his brows with my thumb, I brush a loose tendril of his hair into place and slide my arm back into his. I’m many things, but I only blackmail those who have wronged me. Not some guy who’s in love with his best friend and is apparently still ashamed about it.

The outside of the dance floor is framed by rounded tables, eight chairs to each, dressed in white covers with gold sashes. Cutlery gleams, crystal flutes sparkle and the napkins resemble swans in the center of giant dinner plates. I only now notice the table plan at the top of the room, directs guests toward name plates dotting around abundant lily centerpieces.

A flash of brown hair announces Owen’s arrival. Unlike the effort Sebby has made, Owen had no such inclination. Forgoing a tie, leaving the top button popped and rolling the shirt sleeves up to the elbow, he pulls off the classic badboy look with an air of ease. Tattoos travel from his jawline to collar bone, blending into the colorful artwork covering his shoulders and arms.

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Owen thrusts Miss Piggy into my face. Her tongue hangs lazily from the wide smile on her wrinkled face. An oversized pink bow has been fixed between her ears, matching the pink dress with a tutu she has adorned. Owen couldn’t look happier with himself, roughing up Pig’s flank and placing kisses to her neck.

“Owen loves dogs,” Sebby drawls.

“Like you love-” I begin, until he reaches behind and punches me in the kidney. A chuckle is drawn from my lips but I remain at his side, having far too much fun to distance myself just yet. Sebby may leak wealth like the others, but his absence of arrogance makes him my best bet for company around here. I’m going to need someone to talk to when Charley joins the Elite’s, because you can bet your ass, whatever my girl wants – she gets. I’ll see to that personally.

The current song comes to a gentle end as the lights brighten enough to make me squint. In the doorway, like a pair of suited soldiers entering a battlefield, Carter and Myles appear. No announcement required. The crowd beams fake smiles, a wave of applause echoing around the ballroom.

Carter pushes his hands into the pockets of his fine slacks, charcoal gray like the rest of the three-piece designer suit, quietly confident. Striking green eyes scan his adoring fans, the sharpness of his solid jaw at odds with the slackness of his slanted lips. I lose myself in the thought of what Carter’s jaw is capable of, as Myles instantly seeks me out.

All-encompassing amber eyes spearing the space between us, uncaring of anyone else present. His golden waves have been tamed into a ponytail at his nape. Thick fingers twitch at his side, toying with the veins disappearing into his cuff. In a matching suit to his comrade, the sky-blue tie pushed high into his collar fails to hide the evidence of bruising lingering underneath. Upon receiving my attention, Myles’ face relaxes into a smirk. Even as his gaze drops to the connection between mine and Sebby’s arms, who I refuse to let retract, and his brow jerks in surprise, that smile doesn’t falter. As practiced as my own mask, I see.

“Please, find your seats. Dinner shall be served shortly.” The orchestra begins to play again, softer this time as Carter spreads his arm in a wide arc and directs his guests to the seating plan. I move against the flock, allowing Charley, Pig and Owen to follow in the pathway I create, and head directly for the top table. One which is set apart from the rest with extra care being taken to ensure each large bow on the chairs are perfectly symmetrical. Instead of champagne flutes, a range of wine, whiskey and beer glasses surround the lilies, all in full bloom. The Elites took extra care of this table for a reason, which means it’s exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Carter meets me there, a glare contorting his handsome face. Shuffling aside, I pick up the name card between Sebby and Owen’s, admiring the hand drawn calligraphy.Joy. A wide flourish on the ‘y’ leaves enough room for a heart, and I stuff it into the central vase.

“Excuse me,” a woman rushes up behind. I barely recognised her from the kitchen earlier, the redhead having swapped her maids outfit for an elegant green gown which allows her hair to pop. Vibrant red curls sit on her delicate shoulders, her band of bitches close behind. The Elite’s eye twitches as she forces a sweet smile. Her tone betrays her though, laced with irritation. “Can you please put the card back where it was?” A frown pulls at my lips.

“Why? You spelt my name wrong.” Pulling out the chair, I sit and tweak the cutlery. Carter’s growl of annoyance is drowned out by Owen’s laughter, as he grabs a heightened cushion from the abandoned orchestra area and uses it to prop Pig up on my neighboring chair. He sits on her other side, his hand never leaving her flank as he finds her special spot. Sebby takes the seat on my right, Charley joining next, while all of us keep our backs to the Elites quietly arguing with Carter.

“Just…keep the fucking peace, okay? Find somewhere else to sit,” he mutters. The heat of his anger licks my exposed back like a caress, this game we’ve begun to play becoming quickly addictive.

“There is nowhere else,” another Elite whines. I can practically taste Carter’s fury, and I savor the victory dancing across my tongue.

“Then eat in the kitchen. Just stop causing a scene,” he growls low. Another hushed round of arguing is quickly cut short and the Cling Quartet storm away on clicking heels.

“Wait,” Myles barks. Many others nearby still, as well as the hopeful Elites. The redhead catches my eye, half smirking and snarling as she turns back to her master. Myles reaches over me, his warmth lingering long enough for his cologne to invade my senses, and removes the large vase from the table. “Take this.” Shoving the flowers into Joy’s hands with enough force for the water to slosh over the rim and mar her gown, Myles strides to sit opposite me. Directly in my uninterrupted eyeline, where I’m sure he’ll place himself for the rest of the night.

At some point during our staring contest, drinks are supplied and the napkin swan is flicked free to be spread across my lap. Myles pushes his tongue into his cheek, bristling for every second the unimportant figure lingers over me. Carter paces a while longer, making small talk, ensuring the guests are happily seated before he finally takes his.

Pulling the lapels of his jacket sharply, he wears his suit like amour. As a reminder to all nearby that he is the most important person in the room. I mimic Pig’s wide smile, sharing the same thought. The most important person in the room means the biggest target in our books. Roughing up Pig’s neck, she grunts in response, her tongue hanging out to drip all over the tablecloth.

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