Page 17 of 3 Stolen Kisses

Loves me.

I dare to reach out and pat Saxon on the shoulder. He’s sculpted under there, sturdier than granite, and is it my imagination, or does he lean into my touch?

“It’s okay. I’ve already decided: I’ll go to the pool party tonight, and then that’s it. I’m done. Even if Dad hates me for it… I can’t do this anymore.”

Our head of security gusts out a long sigh, and when he glances over at me, his eyes are warm. “Can’t pretend I’m not relieved, Ali. If one more asshole tries to corner you, I’ll wind up with blood on my hands.”

Shouldnotfind his bloodthirstiness so sexy, but here I am. I bite my lip, practically wriggling on the sofa cushions. “Oh, yeah? You’d rough up a man just for me?”

“I’d flatten him.”

And we’re grinning at each other like goofballs, drawn toward each other across the sofa cushions, when Saxon’s earpiece crackles, then a tinny voice starts talking in his ear. I sink back, disappointed, as Saxon stands up and strides out.

One day.

I pick at a loose thread on my sleeve, stewing and cranky.

One day, I’ll be able to talk to that man endlessly, without interruption. I’ll be able to smile at him freely, without worrying how it looks to other people, and I’ll kiss him as many times as I like.

I sure hope so, anyway.

Else I’ll go mad.

* * *

The pool party is decadent and wild. Stars pulse high overhead, music throbs through the mansion grounds, and all around is the sound of splashing and laughter. It’s nearly midnight, and already the barely-clothed bodies wandering from hot tub to pool and back again are stumbling, weaving their merry way, slurring as they call out to each other.

Nearly midnight.

Nearly Christmas.

Sinking down to my shoulders in the terrace pool, I try to ignore the sadness pressing on my chest.

You know, my father wasn’t always like this. Wasn’t always such a party animal, more concerned with wild experiences and notoriety than with spending time with his daughter. Watching him now, with a woman half his age balanced on his shoulders at the other end of the pool as he pretends to buck her off… I barely recognize him.

Did he ever love my mother?

Was he heartbroken when she left? Isthatwhy I’ll greet Christmas day in a candy striper bikini, lonely and bored in our terrace pool, trying not to catch anyone’s eye?

Because everywhere I look, there are crushes of people.Hordesof people, all grinning and jubilant, some of their faces familiar from blockbuster movies or the ten o’clock news. All singing off-key Christmas carols and pressing close to each other in the pool, their slippery limbs sometimes brushing mine and making me shudder.

Jeez. Don’t these people have families to go home too? Aren’t they tired of all this yet? What’s the point of being rich and famous if your life is this shallow?

“Hey, Wainwright girl,” a nearby man calls, sloshing toward me through the chest-high water. I blink, sinking down to my neck.

This guy’s famous—a musician, I think. A rock star, with long dark hair dragging in the pool behind him as he stumbles forward with that wide, bright grin.

He’s broad-shouldered and tattooed and technically handsome, but you know what? That all only works for me with one man.

“How long have you been hiding in here, huh, Wainwright girl? We’ve all been looking for you,” the rock star says through his grin, talking too loud and waving an arm behind him, showering the party-goers with errant spray. Someone curses him out; someone else laughs like a hyena.

And all around, pairs of eyes turn on me, suddenly curious.

Some eyes are narrowed; others have pin-prick pupils. Some are nosy and some are glassy with drink. But theyallfeel like needles, prickling at my skin, making my heart pound, and suddenly… I can’t do this anymore. I can’t play the polite host to make my father happy. Not for another single second.

I thought I could make it through one last party, but you know what? I can’t.

I won’t stand around half dressed, smiling at men who call me ‘Wainwright girl’, letting them stare. Won’t act like this whole party doesn’t make me feel jaded and heart-sore.

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