She quietly slipped out and made her way to the other part of the apartment, heading to the patio – a place so expansive that it easily accommodated the hundred or so guests that would attend the parties that Dylan liked to throw.
The patio, spectacular with its frameless glass walls and ceilings, was also littered with unconscious guests, and they slept next to empty wine bottles, beer cans, and glasses. Bree was tempted to hold her breath as she made her way further out, the smell of puke overpowering.
She almost gave up searching for Dylan when she heard sucking sounds from behind the ten-foot-tall walls of the giant custom-made Jacuzzi.
Bree followed the sound even as she became nauseous with fear of what she would see. Please let it not be—-
A blond woman was on her knees, her purple bikini top untied and hanging loosely over her breasts while her bikini bottom lay discarded on the floor.
The woman was giving Dylan a hand job. He was clearly sleeping, but his...his...was not.
When the woman looked up, Bree realized she recognized her. When their eyes met, she was again stunned to realize that the other woman recognized her, too.
“Henrietta.” Bree couldn’t keep the revulsion from her voice. This woman was only two years older than her, but it didn’t feel that way. Henrietta was a woman – she was not. Henrietta knew how to please a man – she did not. Henrietta had experienced pleasure in Dylan’s arms – Bree had not – and she feared Dylan was determined she would never do so.
“And you,” Henrietta drawled mockingly as she rose to her feet, uncaring of her semi-naked state, “are no doubt the famous Bree.”
What had Dylan told Henrietta about her?
Henrietta’s taunting laugh drew Bree’s gaze back to her. “Are you wondering why I know about you?”
Before Bree could lie, Henrietta was already speaking again. “Don’t bother lying. Dylan tells me everything.”
Bree sucked her breath in, the painfulness of those words surprising even her.
“I know all about you, how you two met in a school concert, how you totally had him smitten because, you know, you’ve become his little sister – a replacement for the family he’s lost.”
Henrietta’s slim shoulders shrugged. “I don’t really give a shit if you want to be his sister.” Her eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening as she added curtly, “As long, of course, you don’t have any ideas about becoming anything more than his sister.”
Chapter Six
“Oh my God.” The shocked gasp snatched Bree out of her reverie. Bree let out a little gasp herself, not realizing the memories had become so painful it made even breathing unbearable for her.
“Are you all right?” The voice sounded closer.
Bree turned blindly towards the voice. A second or two crawled by before she could see past the tears. A younger girl was talking to her, a petite blue-eyed blonde in a strapless dress so shiny it was like a disco ball.
Farica de Koningh.
The girl came from one of Europe’s oldest and most illustrious families. As far as Bree knew, Farica often made headlines in Europe but was rarely seen in this part of the world.
She stiffened, struck by the realization that Farica might be here because of—-
“Hey.” The girl’s voice was even gentler this time. “I’m not after your rock star if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Bree inhaled. Somehow, the fact that a stranger knew about her and her fixation with Dylan was almost as bad.
The girl’s groan made Bree look at her. Farica looked abashed. “I’m sorry. My cousins always tell me I have a big mouth. Please don’t take it the wrong way. I’m just always updated about...gossip.” Farica gave her a worried look. “Are you looking for Dylan Charbonneau?”
“Yes and no,” she replied honestly after a beat. “I know he’s here, but not where exactly...”
Farica’s answering wince didn’t give her any comfort.
Easily guessing why Farica appeared so uneasy, Bree said quietly, “It’s okay. You can tell me anything. I’m not the type to kill the messenger.”
“I didn’t think you were, but...”
“I’d really rather know everything.” She watched Farica chew on her lip, the other girl visibly debating what to say next.
Finally, the other girl said, “A friend of a friend got a message about Dylan being in a party. I read the news online about Dylan being in your prom so I thought you were an item already and this would be some sort of official celebration or whatever. When I came here, I didn’t even know this was Henrietta’s house—-”
Seeing Bree flinch, Farica said quickly, “No! It’s not what you think. They didn’t kiss, didn’t do anything, I swear. I promise. Cross my heart. It’s just that she was so clingy with him and he was so flirty with her, it didn’t seem...” Her voice trailed off uneasily once more.