Page 37 of Hidden Empire
Chapter 12
Jade
Ilearn two things from Colton Wyatt’s presence during dinner. One, he is also firmly on team gay cowboys. And two, there’s a party tonight that my brothers won’t be attending, but Dmitri might be. According to Colton, everyone but my “lame-ass brothers” always go, and it’s a pretty big tradition. So the facts seem to point in my favor. I mean, what’s the harm in checking?
Sneaking out on my first night here is probably the most insane thing I could possibly do. That fact doesn’t keep me in my bed, though. I should be safely tucked in and snoozing by this hour, but I’m creeping around in the dark to leave without being caught. I wonder if I can pretend to be sleepwalking if I run into one of my brothers.
God, this is so stupid, but I also don’t think I care. I have this deep feeling in the pit of my stomach that says I have to go. It’s like I’m being drawn there by a siren or some kind of mythical pull.
It’s a bit paranoid to assume I might be caught by one of my brother’s when they left over twenty minutes ago for Armani’s work building. It’s at least an eight-minute walk from my room and in the opposite direction of the party location—which isn’t a far walk at all. In fact, as soon as I get out of my building and turn toward the back forest, I see it. It would be impossible to miss.
Flashing white lights and thumping music make the place glow. I’m grateful for it, the signs of a lively party are like arrows pointing exactly where I need to go. Walking alone on this woodsy island at night has me looking over my shoulder every few hurried steps, jumping slightly at every sound. When I creeped out of my room and out of the building, I forgot that I have a bit of a scaredy-cat streak going.
So glad I decided to wear my wool-lined black tights under my skirt and my boots instead of sneakers, I tuck my hands into my cardigan pockets and continue to get closer. The light snapping of feet crushing twigs and the cold scent of pine surround me. A few people pass by, but no one says a word as I keep my eyes averted.
Upon arriving at Empire, there was a very small part of me worried that my dad or Apollo might have hired someone to watch me whenever my brothers aren’t around, and so far, that’s proving to be a ridiculous notion.
If it were a reconnaissance-style job, I would feel eyes on me—like a haunting sixth sense. But I don’t feel like I’m being watched at all. And the only other sort of guarding I know about would have me back in my room in a second flat. Some big guy would carefully pick me up, put me over his shoulder, and report to Armani. My feet are on the ground, so I think that I’m all good in that department. Especially because I’ve arrived.
A white house sits in the middle of a plot of land, huge trees carved out around the space. There are bodies everywhere, and most of them are touching. Couples kiss and grind, ignoring the lack of privacy in favor of feeding their lust. The smell of the forest fades, becoming saturated by the combination of alcohol, cigarettes, and other people.
I stop for a minute to gawk at the place.
A house party, I’m getting the full college experience after all.
Refusing to stand out like a sore thumb, I follow a few people inside, keeping my head down to avoid any unwanted attention. The music is louder when I cross the threshold into the house, but not so much that I can’t hear myself think. More bodies twirl and tangle around each other in hidden corners, passionate touches being exchanged with little care for prying eyes.
I take a minute to settle in, finding a not-so-crowded place to stand. It’s a living room, but it’s gutted. Only what looks like spare furniture is sporadically placed around, every bit of it already occupied. Standing it is.
I’m considering looking around the building some more when an argument pricks at my ears. Two girls bicker openly, each of them with other women who seemingly have their backs at their sides.
“You’re delusional, Clara. No one cares as much about you as you do.”
“Jealous much, Stone?”
I don’t immediately recognize either of them, likely because of the lighting. Also, it’s a bit difficult to decipher new faces while they’re pinched with angry expressions.
“I’d be the delusional one if I were jealous of you. You have nothing I want and certainly nothing that I can’t get for myself. I don’t understand why you act like this. This is Empire, not a sorority house. There’s no supreme head girl, no matter how badly you wish there was.”
Clara fumes, fisting the side of her hips as the apples of her cheeks burn bright. “We all know that I’m the queen of this campus, and nothing can change that.”
The other girl scoffs. Her name is Gabbie Stone, I’m pretty sure. “She’ll take that title from you pretty fucking fast.” She nods to me, eyeing me up and down as she does.
Holy shit, she’s nodding at me.
“What?” I blurt out, thinking I must have misheard her.
“Her? You’re kidding.”
“She’s a Moretti,” Gabbie replies simply. “And that makes you a couple hundred million and nine hot brothers away from touching her level.”
Nine hot brothers, gross.
But I’m not sure why Gabbie would be hyping me up in this way. She’s the heir to The Lost Reapers, an American motorcycle gang. She’s on my not-a-threat list, but I hardly thought she would speak about me like we’re familiar.
The woman is gorgeous. Before, I’d only caught a glimpse of her face. Now I can see that she has thick, shiny black hair cut off at her chest, and light skin but dark eyes. She’s Hispanic, if I remember correctly. Both the cowboys and the biker gang have a large number of Spanish speakers. Not to mention The Guards, all of whom speak at least three languages, Spanish being most of their firsts. It’s a good language to learn, with a large portion of Americans knowing how.
If I wasn’t so dead set on studying Italian to speak with my family, I’d want to try Spanish for sure. I already know a fair bit of Italian from Martha’s cooking lessons and listening to guards speak around the house.