Zayde opened the doors.
Showtime.
TEN
It was amazing, the change that came over the Four. Their faces became blank masks, their postures straightened, and they strode into the room like they owned the place. Heads turned, women openly admiring them, the men ranging from admiration, to envy, to something akin to hatred.
As their attention turned to me, I saw curiosity and disdain, and from some of the men…looks that I really didn’t want them to be giving me, making my skin crawl. Maybe this dress had been a bad idea. I stumbled once but recovered and adopted my own blank expression to match the boys, trying to channel their confident stance. Even though I’d felt confident earlier, being the focus of all this attention now…I won’t lie, it shook me. Still, fake it till you make it, right? I wouldn’t let anyone see that I was freaking out inside.
“You’re okay,” Caiden murmured in my ear, proving that I wasn’t so good at faking the confidence, after all. Then he added, “Stop digging your fucking fingers into my arm.”
Oh yeah. I did have a bit of a death grip going on. I loosened my fingers as Caiden, Weston, and I headed over to where our parents were standing, while Cassius and Zayde worked the room, turning on the charm in a way I’d never seen before.
“Winter, darling.” A huge, fake smile spread across my mother’s face as she pulled me away from Caiden and into a hug, kissing my cheek. I stood stiffly, surprised, but at Weston’s throat clearing, I reciprocated the hug, pasting an equally fake smile on my face as she held me at arm’s length to look me over critically. “Couldn’t you have chosen a longer dress?” she tutted, frowning in displeasure.
“You didn’t specify. I’ve never been to one of these parties before, so I didn’t know,” I shrugged, playing innocent.
Her face smoothed. “Of course. John was never one for parties. I’m surprised you’ve turned out so well mannered, all things considered.”
I tried so, so hard to keep my control, speaking through gritted teeth while I dug my nails into the palms of my hands to take my mind off the sting of her insulting words towards my dad.
“Please don’t talk about him that way.”
She gave a light, tinkling laugh. “It’s the truth, dear. That man was completely hopeless.”
That was it. I couldn’t stop myself. I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Caiden slid his arm around my waist and turned me away from my mother.
“Keep it together,” he hissed in my ear. I looked up at him in shock. He stared down at me, his stormy eyes swirling with a mix of frustration and—was that sympathy? No, I must be mistaken.
I took a deep breath, blinking back the angry tears that had formed, and forced myself to focus on Arlo Cavendish, who stood in front of us. Caiden kept his arm around me, and whatever his reasons were for doing so, I was glad of his presence.
“I’m glad to see you and my son are getting on better, now.” Arlo smiled at me. His smile actually seemed genuine, which was unexpected but not entirely unwelcome.
Some of the tension left me, and I unclenched my fists, wincing slightly at the sting left from digging my nails so tightly into my palms. “Oh, we’re great friends now. Aren’t we, Cade?” I smirked at him, and he rolled his eyes.
“The best of friends,” he drawled.
“Me too,” Weston interjected.
I grinned at him, my body easing as the remaining tension drained out of me. “We are most definitely friends. I wouldn’t let just anyone beat me at pool.”
“I was taking it easy on you last time we played. Just you wait till we have a rematch.”
“I hate to interrupt this fascinating conversation, but you remember what you’re here to do?” My mother spoke, and Caiden’s arm tightened around my waist in warning as he answered her.
“Yes. We’re here to show everyone what a happy little family we are, and how we just love spending time with each other, blah fucking blah.”
Weston snorted as my mother’s eyes shot icy daggers at Caiden. “Enough of the rudeness. Go and mingle, and don’t do anything to show us up.”
Clearly not trusting himself, or any of us, not to say anything insulting, Caiden steered me away from them, keeping his hold on me, Weston at my side. “I need a strong fucking drink for this shit,” he muttered as we headed to the bar that had been set up in the corner of the room. He moved away from me once we reached it, and as we stood, waiting for a drink, I took the opportunity to look around the room.
You could feel the power and influence radiating from all angles. And the money. Women and men of all ages worked the room, expensively dressed, looking down their noses at one another, their sense of entitlement obvious. It was no wonder the Four acted the way they did on campus, growing up around these people. And now I had to play nice with them, too. I groaned internally. I had to keep my end goal in mind. Stay focused, stay on my mother’s good side, and remember I was doing this for my dad.
“You want a drink?”
I turned to Weston. “Just water, please, or a Coke if they have it.” My plan was to stick to non-alcoholic drinks so I could do some investigating later once everyone was either too drunk to notice, or failing that, asleep.
“Are you sure?”