𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

60 || Belle Of The Ball

Billie Eilish - birds of a feather

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Adrik

People are terrible, these American's are no better.

They waste their money either because they want others to think they can or have nothing better to do. They spend their time on useless things, like sitting around and betting on young women in the name of charity. But most of all, they don't stop talking.

They ask questions even when I don't answer them. They pry, even when I don't speak. They're nosy and I begin to question why I'd voluntarily agreed to subject myself to this torture in the first place.

"Well, this is an all new level of ass kissing." I'm given an answer in the sound of her voice.

It's the first she's made a sarcastic retort in days. The first she's spoken and sounded remotely like the woman I knew all too well.

"Excuse me?" The woman standing before us splutters, the man at her side barely bats an eye, his focus on his phone as he holds it out for my contact information.

Tech millionaire. New money. He bored me the rest.

I'd refused his, he didn't get the hint and asked for mine while his date decided it was a good idea to join the one sided conversation.

Good ideas. These Americans didn't have those either.

The woman, who I now believe is incapable of shutting up, turns to the woman on my left, her face red. "You are so not getting my vote tonight."

Red painted nails, long and sharp slip through the fabric of my blazer and rest around my bicep.

She smiles, it's fake but I steal a glance, and take in the sigh of it entirely. Her cheeks still crinkle at the edges of her smile, her chin dimples. It's almost too distracting. "And you're not getting him in your bed tonight, so why don't you go bore someone else to death with your company."

When I turn to said company, she looks outraged. As though she's never been subjected to my wife's charming way with words.

I like it. This woman clearly doesn't.

"That's not-" she looks to me, as though I'd ever defend anyone but the woman at my side. "That was completely inappropriate. Could you like... say something to her?"

With a sigh, I turn to my wife. "You're scarring the company away." Again.

Deep understanding sparks in her eyes, "You're welcome."

My lips twitch when I look at hers. Red, plump and tipped at the corners. I could kiss them right now and she wouldn't stop me.

Dangerous. It was a dangerous temptation. Because if she didn't stop, neither would I. Not until I got her out of here and to where I wanted her. Alone and all mine.

"Now," possession warms her touch when she steps forward, "Why don't you walk away before I get real inappropriate and snap your dainty little neck with my bare hands and feed them to his dogs for a midnight snack."

Her date finally snaps into our conversation and in a matter of seconds they're rushing off, away from us.

Satisfaction eases my breath while I stare into the crowded ballroom. I hate the crowd, the networking, the noise. From the moment we'd walked in with the other debutants, on display, I wanted out. And yet I hadn't left.