Micah’s eyes skimmed over me from where he sat on the massive sectional sofa, and he grinned. “Hey, new girl.”
There was a girl in between Grayson and Micah. Grayson sneered when his cognac eyes landed on me, disdain shining in them. “Since when do you pick up stray dogs?” he asked Brock.
I stiffened beside Brock, two seconds away from bolting. My foot shifted as a hand lightly pressed to my back. The warmth of his solid body flooded into mine.
“I took you in,” he retorted gruffly, moving into the room and setting the case of beer onto the floor. He grabbed himself one before dropping into an oversized chair.
Micah and Fynn snickered. Fynn had a girl on his lap who had her fingers in his chestnut hair. They looked cozy and comfortable with each other, and if I hadn’t known better, I would have thought she was his girlfriend, but the Elite didn’t date exclusively.
Grayson continued to frown at me. “Seriously. What is she doing here?” he demanded.
There weren’t any seats open, so I just stood awkwardly in the room, feeling so out of place and unsure of myself. The empty bottle of bourbon feeling light in my hand.
Brock slammed back a drink of his beer, eyeing me. “I don’t know yet.”
That made two of us. Just what the fuck was I doing here? In Brock’s house? Alone? With the Elite?
“Ohmygod. Is this a joke?Right?” Ava snapped as she twirled a strand of red hair around her finger. She glared at me like I’d just dumpster dived in a back alley.
I probably did look atrocious, but for good reason, and I really didn’t give a shit what I looked like. I glared back at the bitch, daring her to start shit with me. “You got a problem with me?” I was in a goddamn mood and would love nothing more than to take out my anger on her.
Brock leaned back in his chair, his expression unchanged as he said, “If you don’t like it, Ava, get the fuck out. My house. My booze. My rules.”
Ava glared at me, and I was pretty sure she was plotting the numerous ways she would make my life a living hell. Hostility and jealousy came off her in waves. I could all but taste the hate in the air.
I grinned back at her with equal contempt radiating from my eyes and triumph on my lips. Ava already claimed me as an enemy before even meeting me, just because I had slept with Brock.
Her smug smile slipped. “Your parties used to be fun.Youused to be fun,” she said to Brock, pouting.
He barely blinked. “Yeah, well, I’m not here for your entertainment. You’re here for ours.”
If I didn’t already despise Ava, I might have felt a shred of sympathy for her, but I was beginning to suspect there was something wrong with this chick. It was as if the crueler Brock was to her, the more desperate she became for his attention.
Undeterred, Ava got up from her seat, flashing everyone in the room a view of her ample breasts, and sauntered behind Brock’s chair. She leaned down, running her hands along his wide shoulders to his chest, whispering something in his ear.
“Clingy much?”
Multiple eyes swung in my direction, and there might have been a gasp or two. I realized I had done it again, spoken my thoughts out loud. I needed to get that shit under control.
Micah’s lopsided grin widened as he laughed. “I call dibs on the new girl.” He patted the vacated seat at the end of the couch beside him where Ava had been.
I rolled my eyes but wove around all the outstretched legs and feet to take a seat next to Micah who handed me a drink. He seemed harmless enough, and at least I was no longer subjected to Grayson’s glares. They were lethal.
Brock scowled at me as I glanced over at him. Our eyes locked. He knocked Ava’s hands off him and sighed heavily. “Ava, go do something else with your mouth other than complain.”
“I got something she can do with it,” Micah said, unbuttoning the front of his jeans.
I almost spat a mouthful of beer all over Micah. It would probably be wise to cut myself off, but I needed something to dull the throbbing ache for Brock that wouldn’t go away. Even his fucking frown turned me on. But it was the damn eyes that would be my downfall.
“What do you have here?” Micah asked, snatching the empty bottle from my hands. “Oh, shit. Bourbon. The good stuff. I approve, new girl. But next time, save me a swig.” He swung an arm around my shoulder.
I remembered what Mads said about Micah. He was the playboy of the group, but for reasons I didn’t understand, I felt safer with the platinum blond Elite than I did with any of the other three. I risked another glance in Brock’s direction and found his eyes still on me, his face unreadable. I got the sense he wasn’t thrilled about something.
Ava, having given up on gaining any attention from Brock, moved on to Grayson, who pulled her down into his lap. She seemed all too comfortable being passed from one Elite to the other, and I remembered the girl in Brock’s bed at his party. Was Ava a standby girl?
“You just missed your brother,” she said, so sickly sweet it gave me a toothache.
“Step,” I corrected, taking my bottle back from Micah. “Carter was here?”