Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
When I see a waiter walking by with a tray of champagne flutes, I make my way over to him. He doesn’t balk at my young features and offers me a drink. No one cares if you’re under the legal drinking age at parties like this.
It takes everything in me not to chug the chilled, sparkly beverage. Daintily, I sip the drink and casually scan the space.
I need answers.
Why would a girl like Megan have a brochure for the Crowne Unity Project? She follows them on social media and clearly is connected in some way. I just need to find out how.
I look around for easy pickings—one of those partygoers who likes to hear the sound of their own voice. They’re usually surrounded by unsuspecting guests who are caught in their snare. A brown-haired man with a sharklike grin has several too-polite young men in his orbit, holding court over them as he tells an elaborate story with excessive hand gesturing. He abandons his story long enough to look at my cleavage and lick his lips.
Ew.
Pass.
I need someone who isn’t distracted by the female species. Someone who’s more interested in themselves than those around them.
Seconds later, I find my target. The woman is in her late thirties, and by the way she sways slightly, I’d say at least a whole bottle of wine in this evening. Her audience are two other women, who keep exchanging annoyed expressions. I’ll give them their out and isolate her.
“Love your earrings,” I say as I join the group. “Where’d you get them, hon? I’ll need to tell my dad.”
The other two ladies slink away as the one woman fixes her unfocused eyes on me.
“Oh, these old things,” she purrs. “My husband got them while on a work trip in Milan. I’m sure they’re nothing more than costume jewelry.”
I know expensive diamonds when I see them. There’s nothing costume about them, but I play along anyway.
“Guys are clueless sometimes,” I say, sidling up closer to her as though we’re besties. “My high school boyfriend once went to Jared’s for a necklace. Dad made me break up with him shortly after.”
“Smart father,” she responds. “I’m Isla Porter. You’re…”
No sense in lying. “Romy. Just Romy tonight.”
Isla’s glazed brown eyes warm. “You’re a young one, Just Romy.” She smirks conspiratorially at me. “Are you here to see the famous Cazey Tee?”
The way she says the singer’s name with barely held contempt tells me all I need to know on how to proceed.
“Oh God,” I say with a groan. “She’s not singing tonight, is she?” I curl my lip up. “She’s the most overrated pop singer of my lifetime.”
Isla’s shoulders relax. “I think she slept her way to the top. I mean, she came from Oakland.”
I make a scrunched face as though I’m just as disgusted as she is.
“I’m honestly skeptical of her collaboration with the Crownes,” Isla continues. “They’re usually a lot more selective with whom they associate with.” She points a delicate finger past a group of people. “Orion is old-school and loyal to those who’ve been around for decades. She’s probably one of their little project moths. If I had to bet, I’d say she’s also sleeping with one of his boys.”
I want to ask her about what project moths are, but I’m suddenly curious about his boys. When I follow where she’s pointing, I see the famed Orion with three other men. Surrounding them are tuxedo-wearing security detail meant to blend in. They’re obvious if you know what you’re looking for.
“Which one?” I ask, voice low. “The one with his back to us?”
“Theo? I’m sure he’s stuck his dick in half the women at this party.” She chuckles softly. “Except for me. If I ever strayed from Ryan, it’d be with Gareth. He’s the one about to burst out of his tux like the Hulk.”
One of the men, indeed, is incredibly fit. His muscles bulge beneath his tux, threatening to tear the fabric in two. A hint of a tattoo peeks up above his collar. The sides of his head are shaved, and icy-blond hair is slicked back on top. He wears a perpetual smirk that makes you wonder if he’s playful or cruel. Either way, he’s definitely good-looking.
“Where’s the other brother?” I ask, scanning the group, discreetly looking past people who keep stepping in my way.
“He’s around here somewhere. Just look for the creepy one.”
She cackles at her own joke and then waves down a waiter. I’m still searching when she plucks my empty champagne flute out of my hand and replaces it with another one. I sip the cool liquid while continuing to hunt down the creepy one.
As though a draft enters the room, a chill slithers through my veins, spreading quickly throughout my body. I suppress a shiver and wonder why the alcohol isn’t warming me. As Isla babbles about Orion being handsome for his old age, I can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. My first thought is to look for the beefy guy. He’s huddled with the younger brother, not paying me any attention.