I find myself at the sweeping marble topped bar in the natatorium and I ignore everyone and everything as I perch on one of the bar stools and proceed to pour myself a drink. Thankfully, the bar is all but deserted.
I realize that this is my very first high school party. Not much of a first, but I drink a bitter toast to that. It seems that alcohol tastes the same even in Eden, and I drink another toast to that.
I scan my surroundings, and it’s clear what goes down in these parties—making out. Lots of it.
Members of the soccer team paired off with one, or more, scantily-clad girls, doing god knows what, and it’s everywhere I look. Not just in the dark corners of the hall.
The Dynasty heirs are easy to spot, even among the heaving crowd. Even with the excessive wealth and opulence surrounding this place, they stand out as the most privileged of them all. The most beautiful. The most powerful.
That distinct air of power and cruel beauty makes them utterly unapproachable. Unattainable. But all eyes are drawn to them, like moths to a goddamn flame. Those privileged enough to associate with them, hover close by, but not close enough to truly be a part of their world. They own this place, they’re the very reason why everyone is here tonight. All desperate for even a single look, a word, from one of the Dynasty heirs. And it makes me sick.
I see the queen bitch herself standing with Keller and Ivy, along with a group of girls I recognize from their oh so popular lunch table. They’re surrounded by guys from the soccer team who seem utterly enthralled by these stunningly beautiful girls.
Layla eyes me with distaste as she notices me across the natatorium. As if my very presence is equivalent to a stray animal wondering into the party; and it’s clear from the look on her face, that she can’t quite believe said animal would even dare to show its face. Keller follows her line of sight and the look on her face is equally disbelieving. Clearly disobeying the royal asshole’s orders is something entirely alien to these people.
My eyes travel to where Lance is standing with Baron by the pool edge. Again, both are surrounded by the opposite sex.
I almost roll my eyes at the cliché of it all. But then my gaze falls on something, or more accurately, someone, that makes me regret my decision to come down here at all.
Raph is lounging on one of the poolside recliners, surrounded by what looks like a cast of teen supermodels, all clearly on the list of the most beautiful girls on campus. Although, Raph, too, looks like he’s just walked off the runway of some international fashion show. That, or off the cover of some goddamn magazine. It’s sickening as hell, but I can’t seem to look away.
He has one girl pressed to each side of him, whilst two other girls dance with each other in front of him. Actually, dancing is a polite way of putting it, because they’re more like grinding. Dirty grinding, which given the fact that they’re both wearing string bikinis, makes it akin to stripping. The only thing missing is the pole. Christ, and they think I’m the stripper.
My gaze flicks to Layla momentarily and needless to say, her expression is one of pure venom as she watches her betrothed acting not so betrothed, although unlike the cafeteria scene earlier, she doesn’t make a move to stop him.
The entire scene makes me sick to my stomach and it’s a wonder I’m able to keep my drink down.
He chooses exactly that moment to look my way, and as soon as his eyes lock onto mine, I feel my stomach sink. What the hell was I thinking coming down here?
His expression is unreadable, but I can see from the fire blazing in the depths of those luminous blue eyes, that firstly, my presence is entirely unwelcome and secondly, that he knows exactly who is responsible for throwing his precious trophies in the ocean.
I fully expect him to cross the vast natatorium and drag me upstairs to his balcony, so that he can throw me off it—so that I can join his belongings as they float out to sea. But he doesn’t make a move.
I force myself to turn away and I down the rest of my drink, although I’m all too aware of the way those eyes are boring a hole into me. If only looks could kill, I’m sure I’d be dead by now.
I let out a long breath as I slam my glass down on the marble bar surface. Whatever restless rebelliousness was in my system earlier, is now long gone, and I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed and disappear. Even if I probably won’t be able to sleep a wink until this goddamn party is over, and the deafening bass stills.
Unfortunately, I’ve barely made it off the bar stool when I’m faced with those blazing blue eyes up close, as Raph glowers down at me.
“I specifically recall telling you that you weren’t invited.” His voice is as cold as ice in contrast to that fire.
Although I’d been only all too ready to leave this party, his tone makes me change my mind pretty damn quickly. If only to prove a point to this asshole.
“And I specifically recall telling you that if you think you can threaten me and bark orders at me, then expect me to roll over and obey, then you have another think coming, asshole.”
He smirks in response and I want nothing more than to wipe it off his perfect face.
His eyes travel the length of me and despite feeling overdressed earlier in comparison to the swimwear-clad crowd, I suddenly feel exposed in my vest and sleep shorts.
I’m equally aware of his lack of clothing as he stands much too close, wearing nothing but black swim shorts. But I refuse to look and it’s probably the most self-control I’ve ever had to exert.
“I think your exact words were royal asshole, actually.”
I’m both surprised that he actually remembered what I’d said, that he’s capable of remembering anything other than his name being spoken in praise and chanted in glory, and at the same time, I’m pissed as hell that he has the gall to throw those words back at me.
I open my mouth to give him something else to remember, but he’s already continuing.
“I’ll give you one chance to get the hell out of here. One. Go back upstairs. Now. And I’ll pretend I never saw you down here.”
My answer is simple.
“No.”
“No?” He says it as if he’s never heard the word before, which is probably true. I can’t imagine anyone having the balls or in the case of every single girl on this damn planet, the self-control, to ever refuse him. The heir to the goddamn throne. He’s probably never wanted for anything in his entire life. Well, I’m more than willing to educate him.
“No.” I repeat. “N.O. As in I won’t be following your orders, your highness,” I mock.
His perfect features twist in displeasure. Then he cocks his head to the side as he regards me thoughtfully, like a formation on a chess set. Considering his next move before he goes in for the kill.