OCTAVIA
The Saint house is unrecognizable.
Considering I was just here this morning, it shouldn’t look so different, and yet…
I walk up the driveway, which is absolutely slammed with cars, psyching myself up for this. Normally I’d just use the side gate, but considering that’s hidden and this is an official party, we decided I should use the main entrance. The valet service at the gate looked more than a little horrified when I arrived by foot. For a moment I thought they were going to refuse me entry and did a mental happy dance. Alas, I am Octavia Royal, and his boss recognized me just before he was about to turn me away.
Teetering away on these stilettos as I weave my way toward the house, an icy drop of dread runs down my spine. The steps to the door are lit with fairy lights, the same ones that are woven around the branches of the trees and in the bushes that line the drive. The door opens before I can lift my hand to knock and I come face to face with Dylan.
Indi’s Dylan.
In the Saint house.
Opening the door.
In a goddamn tuxedo.
“Ermmm?” is all I manage to say, because I’m pretty sure my brain is broken. He grins down at me and ushers me into the house.
“Looking good, V. I’d take your coat, but I’m pretty sure if I took any layers from you Indi would have my balls and your guys would be next in line.”
I look down at the shawl covering my shoulders, held together by my hands that clutch both it and my purse. “Why are you here?”
“Indi wanted you to have some help in this snake hole, and well, the money was good,” he says with a shrug. “Hustlers gotta hustle right?”
That twinkle in his eye makes me think there’s more to it than that, but I let it go. I am learning that I don’t always need to know every single detail. I am not Lincoln Saint, and I don’t want to run the world.
I hand Dylan my shawl, considering the temperature in the house I don’t think I’m going to need it. “Thanks. Just how insane is the guest list?”
“Not great,” he says, pursing his lips. “Most of the Cove’s elite are here. The LaFontaines included. Indi’s request for me to refuse them entry wasn’t exactly easy to uphold.”
“It’s fine,” I say, waving him off, mentally high-fiving my friend. “She doesn’t mean anything in the long run, just Daddy Saint waving his dick around like it’s made of fairy dust.”
He bursts out laughing as he hangs my shawl in the closet. “You and Indi really are too alike sometimes.”
“She’s the best,” I say, looking around with a tight smile. “Don’t suppose you want to hide me in that closet too?”
“Nah,” he says with a lazy smile. “You’ve got more backbone than that. I doubt you’ve ever hidden from a fight in your life.”
Doesn’t matter that he’s right. That closet seems far more welcoming than the rest of this party.
“I guess. Any sightings of my guys?”
“East hasn’t come down yet, but the others are out back. I think that’s where most of this shindig is happening.”
“Thanks,” I say with a tight smile. “Better go face the music, I guess.”
I head through the house, swiping a glass of bubbles from one of the many roaming servers and throwing it back. Some might call it Dutch courage, but for me it’s just a way to tamp down the urge to run.
I don’t head toward the smaller kitchen that I usually find the guys in. I have zero doubt Harrison has that part of this floor shut off tonight. God forbid anyone sees the homely parts of this mausoleum of a house. I leave the foyer into the giant living room that leads to the wall of glass at the back. The wall is open, letting people spill down the steps and out into the yard. If you can really call back here a yard. It was definitely created for entertaining. I don’t usually pay it any mind, but it seems Harrison had someone in to spruce it up a bit.
Whoever it was apparently has my penchant for fairy lights. They’re everywhere and it’s beautiful.
“Octavia, there you are.” I wince at the sound of Harrison's voice. I should’ve grabbed more than one glass. I force a smile on my face and turn to face him. He’s waving me over to him so I head in that direction, my gaze sweeping the space for my guys, but not finding any of them. “Welcome, it’s good to finally see you. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much since your return. My condolences about your father.”
“Thank you.” Suspicion courses through me. What game is he playing? Because doting and caring isn’t a façade I’m buying. We spoke at the gala and he was nothing more than a giant asshole. To me and to East.
“Ah, Miss Royal, I haven’t had the pleasure. William LaFontaine.” The man standing beside Harrison holds his hand out to me, so I shake it because my dad didn’t raise me to be rude. Plus, this guy hasn’t done anything to me.