“And how did you find me, if I may ask? Did you see me and figure it out?”
I’m prepared for this question. “Actually, one of your friends did. Callum Noble? He told me he thought we might be related in July.” All of that is entirely true. “I asked him to give me some time to tell you myself.”
“Cal?” She's shocked. “Oh. I wouldn’t have thought he knew what I looked like.”
She chuckles, cheeks flushing.
Oh, goodie. My sister has a crush on the fucking psycho.
I absolutely don’t expect the sudden rush of protectiveness, but well, she’sme, except younger, adorable, sheltered, and so not ready to deal with bloody Callum Noble.
“Oh, no, sis.Don’tgo there.” Rather than explaining all the reasons why she shouldn’t, I say, “I liked it. It’s mine.”
She gasps, then leans forward with a giggle. “You did? Do tell!”
“Nope.”
The manipulative little thing pouts. “But I must live vicariously through you. Everyone thinks he’s droolworthy, but he hardly ever dates…"
“Well…” I need a second to think about what I can say to satisfy her curiosity without shocking her. “We had dinner. He’s an interesting mixture of a gentleman and a crass-as-fuck motherfucker.”
“Isn’t he just?” she says with a snort. “I mean, I don’t hang out with him much, of course, but my…stepbrother’s friends with his cousins. We’ve attended the same parties for a while. How can one be so eloquent yet so veryrude?”
“Right?”
“But I wasn’t asking about the extent of his vocabulary, Olivia.”
“Liv,” I correct. “And that’s all you're getting. Facts on his very largevocabulary.”
She practically chokes on her drink.
Grace makes me think about Jinx a little; quiet and easy to blush, but so very sweet and fun when she opens up. By the time our cups are empty, I don’t want to let her go. And she might think the same, because she offers to let me tag along with her. She’s seeing some friends at a fancy gallery opening.
The gallery, it happens, belongs to the Forts. Mr. Fort saved a princess a decade ago, and his daughters ended up engaged to princes as a result. The youngest sister, Belladona, is one of the most beloved girls in the entire kingdom, adored by the media and public alike. As it turns out, she’s a friend of Grace’s.
If someone had told me before summer that I would be attending events in the company of the highest of the peers of the realm, I would have laughed hard enough to crack my ribs, but here I am. It’s not even that weird. Grace introduces me proudly, and people marvel over our looks. I meet fellow students, none of whom stop to ask why there are holes in my Converse.
“Love your hair!” a gorgeous Asian chick says. “Youhaveto tell me who dyes it.”
“No one. It actually grows like this, believe it or not. It’s a little lighter at the end of the summer.”
“Gosh! That explains why you don’t have roots. She’s justso pretty.”
“And I adore the look,” Bella announces. “A little edgy, not quite emo.”
“Give me your number!”
I get everyone’s numbers.
I don’t know why I expected all of them to be stuck-up as fuck—and maybe they are to complete outsiders, but they’re used to Grace, and I share her face.
I’m having the best of times, completely relaxed, though my social meter is about to hit empty. I’ll have to recharge over the next few days.
And then, I look up at a particularly gorgeous painting across the modern white hall, and I see him, leaning on the opposite wall, surrounded by friends in sharp suits.
And his gray eyes are set on me.
CHAPTER 9