Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1182(@200wpm)___ 946(@250wpm)___ 788(@300wpm)
Just as I think it, one of the ballet dancers from Beckett’s company thrusts out of the sweaty throngs and jogs up to the bar so abruptly, I have to break my clutch from Donnelly. He physically barrels through our chained hands like we’re playing Red Rover.
“Sorry,” he barely apologizes, bowed halfway over the bar. He yells out, “Kevin!”
“One sec, LV!” Kevin calls back, sounding friendly. He’s pouring espresso martinis for a gaggle of girls at the other end.
This dancer is too familiar—his dirty-blond hair nearly brown with the sweat. He greets me with a blinding smile for point-two seconds, as if feeling the heat of my stare. “Leo Valavanis. Your cousin so rudely forgot to introduce me.” He snaps a wiseass look at Beckett, who’s very, very close. Right on the other side of Donnelly.
Beckett narrows his yellow-green eyes. “Purposefully.”
“Which was rude,” Leo says. “But it’s okay, you have a laundry list of flaws, and you do like to keep it clean.”
My eyes pop out.
Eliot and Tom are too far away and can’t hear this over the music, or else I think they would’ve shot forward.
Donnelly has the faintest grin, and he shakes his head subtly to me, like saying, it’s okay. Weird. But Donnelly knows the ballet dancers better than most. When we were backstage, they all shouted, “Hey, Don! Hey, Don!” and “Welcome back, Don!” like one big inside joke.
I often forget he spent years inside Beckett’s daily New York routine.
Beckett’s jaw twitches. “Why are you still here?”
“I ask the same thing about you every day, Cobalt,” Leo says. “Why is he still around? You’re all technique. No passion. And then I realize…” Leo grips the bar casually. “You are nothing without me, and I’m nothing without you.” They share this deep, fiery look—like an aggravation is burning a hole through both of them from their unceasing rivalry, stoked by their ballet company.
“LV!” Kevin motions him down the bar.
“Bye, Don,” Leo says to my boyfriend. To me, “The cousin.” Then to Eliot and Tom, “The brother and the brother.” He winks at Tom.
Beckett bristles and stares him down, and Leo grins wider at Beckett. “What? You love it, Cobalt. Do you hear that? It’s the water roaring.”
Beckett is often referred to as being calm like idle water among the Cobalt Empire.
Donnelly laughs only when Leo has gone. “That was clever. Just sayin’.”
“He’s infuriating,” Beckett refutes and glares down at the end of the bar where Leo is speaking to Kevin. I sense a spark of hate, but it’s not like me hating Jeffra. Or Donnelly hating O’Malley. It’s a lingering hate, a gripping hate…an attraction.
Which makes sense why Donnelly knew Beckett wouldn’t be offended by Leo’s insult. Not if he’s kinda into it.
What throws me off though—I always thought Beckett was straight.
In the next minute, Beckett asks Donnelly if he wants to step outside for a smoke. Donnelly kisses my cheek, saying he’ll be back in a few minutes. Frog and Quinn have been hanging ten or so feet away, pretending to dance, but they’re mostly watching me at the bar.
Likewise, Eliot and Tom’s bodyguards hover close, and I notice O’Malley trailing after Beckett, protecting my cousin during this nighttime extravaganza.
“The archrival,” Eliot muses while Leo carries his mixed drink back onto the dance floor.
“He winked at me. You see that?” Tom slurs a little, sipping more tequila.
“I saw his eye twitch funny,” Eliot insults.
Tom clears a lump in his throat and watches Leo rotate his head to the music like the melody is coursing through him. “He’s…sort of hot.”
What? My eyes widen again.
Eliot goes still. “Come again?”
Tom mumbles out something, then sips his tequila.
Eliot snaps his gaze to me. “Did he just say, I’d let him fuck me?”
I nod. “I think I heard a garbled version of that, yep.”
“I have vies,” Tom slurs. “Okay, I can see.” He gestures dramatically at the crowds. “And you know what…I know it’s wrong. Because Beckett Joyce wouldn’t want him”—he flings an arm backwards, then points to his chest—“with me.”
I nod robustly, nervous for this messy scenario. Since I have a hunch Beckett is kinda into Leo. “Yep.”
“But I’ve got vies.” He puts a palm to his chest.
I stroke the back of his head, and Tom relaxes at the touch. And I say, “He has vies, Eliot.”
“If he likes his vies, he’d keep them off our brother’s adversary.”
“But he’s so hot,” Tom groans like it’s a struggle. “And he winked at me.”
“Eye twitch,” Eliot shoots me a look to say the same.
“Coulda been a dust particle itch.” I sing-song, “Possibilities.”
“You know…” Tom stares sadly at the tequila. “He’s my secret…the crush.” His secret crush.
My mouth falls. “Holy…wow, Batman.” This is getting worse.
Eliot shuts his eyes like he’d prefer to teleport out of the club. “Wake me up when this nightmare ends.”