Page 79 of Unwritten Rules

She glances at V standing in shocked silence beside me.

“Congrats and all that. He’s a lying twat. You’re welcome!”

The sound of gravel crunching greets my ears, and I realise she’s inching backwards toward Valentine’s, so I step forward, raising my hands in a gentling motion.

“It’s not what you—”

“I thought we’d decided to be honest with one another, Hawthorne?”

I wince openly. “You know I prefer when you call me Nathaniel.”

She snorts, slipping further away. “And forget about Hellcat, Hawthorne. How about you just call me Never!”

Spinning on her heel, she moves with surprising agility, considering the height of those shoes, taking off into the darkness leading to the front of the house.

“Well, go after her, idiot. Don’t say I didn’t warn you; this whole sorry situation was going to fall like a house of fucking cards.”

V’s parting shot echoes through my brain as I sprint after Mila, my racing heart pounding in my ears. Seconds later, I reach the entryway, recognising the security guards, Jonas and Elton, at the door.

“Did a girl in a white dress pass here, boys?”

“Yeah,” Jonas answers, pointing in the direction of the throng. “Best of luck finding her in that mess.”

Fuck!

Valentine’s is positively heaving, the mass of bodies even greater than a standard Saturday, as I move into the fray.

My height makes scanning the space less frantic than I feel on the inside, and it takes no length before I’ve spotted her on the other side of the reception area, heading past the stairs and toward the Voyeurism Chamber.

My forehead puckers as I cross the space, realising too late that I’m maskless, but in my rush, I push on, ignoring all and sundry who are attempting to get my attention.

Once I’ve reached the staircase, I stop for a moment, narrowing my eyes in thought. It’s been a while since I’ve ventured in here, and I’m at a loss as to which room she’ll have chosen to enter – Christ, this place has some kinks that would make even the kinkiest person question their limits.

Slowly walking down the corridor, I first try the restroom, coming up empty-handed.

That would have been too easy, though, Hawthorne. Our girl likes to make it hard – in more ways than one, apparently.

I’m blown away to find that I’m wrong in my estimations when I round the next corner to find Mila sat on the floor outside a room labelled Rimming, her skirt tucked under her ass with her knees drawn up, her forehead resting on them.

“Hellcat…”

She raises accusing eyes to me, distrust dripping from each perfect feature.

“I thought I told you to call me Never. Now, let’s play a game of fuck off, yeah? You go first.”

I drop down to my haunches, my elbows resting on my knees as I soak in the radiance of this woman, who – even in her fury – is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever witnessed.

“Hellcat – if you’d let me explain…”

She tilts her head to one side as I trail off. “And why should you explain anything to me? You’d do better to explain to your baby mama what—”

“Enough, Mila.”

My words are louder than necessary, more forceful than I’ve ever spoken to her, and they stop her in her tracks as she looks at me with wide eyes.

“Vivienne’s not my ‘baby mama.’ I swear you’ve got it all—”

“Don’t you dare say I’ve got it wrong, asshole. You said, ‘How’s my little one?’ which makes it pretty damn obvious what she is to you!”