Page 57 of Stolen Summer
“There’s only one rule tonight, Killer. Don’t call me by my name,” he murmured, the cool steel of his lip ring grazing my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
I couldn’t suppress the shudder. It rippled through me like a high to a drug addict, and I craved more.
“Why not?” I inquired huskily and a bit dazed by the gold in his eyes as he pulled back to look at me from behind his mask.
“It’s the rules of the game. We might know each other by name, but when the mask is on and we walk over the threshold, we’re no longer who we were.”
I couldn’t feel more out of place. “If someone asks who I am?”
“Give them whatever name you wish as long as it’s not your actual name.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” I blurted, unable to prevent myself from asking the question this time. I couldn’t shake the insecurity, and if I didn’t want to stress over it all night, then it was better to deal with it directly despite exposing a weak spot in my tough-girl exterior.
He flinched, his brows inching together. “I’m going to make this very clear once, and only once. I don’t give a shit what a single person here thinks of me, let alone you. If you believe for one second anyone here is better than you, you’re fucking wrong. The size of their bank account doesn’t make a person. If anything, the wealthier they are, the shittier a person they become. People will cross all degrees of moral lines to achieve fortune, status, and fame. I’m ashamed of them, of my association with this class.” He took my chin between his fingers, his grip firm, and I sensed his strength and the tremor of anger under the surface, carefully locked away, that could be unleashed with the right key. He wasn’t hurting me, but I also knew he could hurt me. “But never of you,” he vowed.
I stared at him feeling conflicted, turned on, surprised, happy, and a cluster of other emotions I had trouble processing. Somehow, during his passionate speech, I’d drawn closer to him without noticing. But I fucking noticed now, especially since he still had ahold of my chin. “I think this is the first time in my life I’m speechless.”
His fingers dropped from my face but not before he brushed his thumb under my bottom lip. “At least something good came out of tonight, other than seeing your ass in those pants.”
I jabbed my elbow into his gut, but it was like hitting a brick. “You’ll pay for that, Riley.”
Behind the mask, his eyes flared. “I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of punishment you have in store for me.”
The rosy tint of my cheeks deepened. “You’re not the oldest,” I said, trying to understand the family dynamic. From what I gathered, his eldest brother, Brody, was being groomed to take over the family business. That was usually the order of things when it came to heirs, but maybe I had it wrong. Maybe my presumption of how the fortunes were handed down was faulty or jaded.
A server walked by with a tray of flutes, and Cole plucked off two, handing me one. It was the first time I noticed the staff offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres. They all wore the same vampire-esque mask and black attire.
Cole offered me a glass of champagne. “No, I’m not,” he answered. “But I’m the one my father trusts. I’m the one who makes the hard decisions. I get what needs to be done, no questions asked. My father would say I’m the most like him.”
“And you hate that comparison,” I guessed, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. It was sweeter than the one we’d had in the limo.
He nodded. “I do.”
Talking to Cole was easier than dealing with a room full of masked strangers. “You want to be nothing like him, but you’re afraid you are like him.”
Cole’s eyes darkened, and he knocked back his drink. “Stop analyzing me, Killer.” With a scowl, he switched out his empty flute for a full one.
“But you’re so damn fascinating, Riley.”
A guy with what I thought was a Phantom of the Opera mask covering half his face strolled up to Cole and clasped his hand with Cole’s in the way guys do when greeting each other. “Riles. Didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”
Cole nodded. “I didn’t have a choice,” he replied gruffly.
“Do any of us?” The phantom guy turned his eyes to me. “And who is this? I don’t recognize the…face,” he said, but by the way his gaze took in every inch of my body, it hadn’t been my face he referred to.
Cue the ick.
I barely stopped myself from shuddering in disgust.
Cole lifted a brow at me, prompting me to give the name I picked for the night.
My attention shifted off him to his creepy friend. “Harley,” I said, taking the hand he extended toward me.
To my great displeasure, Phantom Guy brought the back of my hand to his lips. I fought the desire to yank my hand away. It would have been rude, but I hated the feel of his lips on my skin.
“That will be the one and only time your mouth ever touches her again. Are we clear?” The shift in Cole’s tone took me aback.
I hadn’t expected it, and I didn’t know how I felt about the public display of protectiveness laced with jealousy.