Page 114 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Scowling, I start to type back a reply, telling him to fuck off…

Then hear the elevator.

Violet lifts her head. “Meow?”

The doors slide open just as I make it to my feet.

Violet’s ahead of me, sprinting over and then skidding to a stop in obvious disappointment that the intruder isn’t River.

Instead, it’s Pascal.

Who’s standing there holding a garment bag.

For a moment neither of us speaks.

Then I find my voice. “No,” I growl.

He sidesteps me, walks down the hall, and disappears into my bedroom.

“What the fuck?” I whisper.

“Meow?” Violet asks, trailing him.

By the time I follow, he’s tossed the bag on my bed. “No what?” he asks innocently.

I glare at the garment bag. “No that.”

“If you’re going to the ball, you need something to wear.” He brushes his hands together. “So consider me your fairy godfather.” A shrug. “Well, me with help from Rory, Marie, Tiff, Chrissy, and Briar, of course. The guys couldn’t give two fucks about your”—he makes air quotes—“outfit. Though Jean-Michel told me to tell you he’s still the best fairy godfather around.”

I close my eyes.

An outfit?

And fairy godfathers?

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I am not going.”

Pascal just smirks. “Yeah, you are,” he announces.

I open my mouth to protest.

“You know how important this is to her. You know you love her. You know that if you don’t step the fuck up right now, that you’ll lose her forever. So yeah,” he says, turning for the hall, “you’re absolutely fucking going.”

“I—”

He gestures toward the garment bag. “Get dressed.”

Then he’s gone.

I stand in my bedroom, staring at the garment bag like it’s a rattlesnake poised to strike, trying to will myself to go to the living room and forget Pascal was here at all.

But I can’t make my feet move.

And, eventually, curiosity wins out.

I walk to the bed, unzip the garment bag.