The Prince is Having a Ball

Part 3

Part 3

 

The last ten minutes feel like they’ve gone by in a blur. Victor’s mother came swooping in, a cruel smile on her thin lips, spouting off about how she must have forgotten to send the updated invitation to me, that it must have totally slipped her mind, and that this was such an unfortunate coincidence. Yeah, sure.

Victor was livid, convinced that his mother had done this on purpose, and sure--she probably had. When the doorman had mentioned a dress code, he was most likely talking about my red dress, and oh man did I wish I had asked him about it.

I had wanted to leave, of course, mortified and blushing the color of my dress. I’m sure I looked like some sort of hourglass-shaped tomato or something. Victor was pissed though, and knew that that had been his mom’s plan--for him to run away with his tail tucked between his legs. It was all about power plays with their family. He wasn’t having it, which unfortunately meant that I was stuck supporting him, because of course I would.

“I’m so sorry, Princess,” Victor murmurs into my ear for the thousandth time.

I nod, then realize I need to suck it up. What did the boys say to each other? Sac up! I pull my shoulders back, standing tall with my chin high. If I’m going to be the stand-out freak in the red dress at the black and white ball, I’m going to be the regal and confident stand-out freak.

“Dance with me?” I bite my lip, looking up at him endearingly, although I know he would say yes even without my flirtations.

Victor glances over at North quickly, who has been shooting angry glares at everyone who even dares to look up their snobby rich noses at my dress choice. North shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest, and the fabric of his tuxedo stretches to accommodate for his muscles. God, he is sexy…

Victor holds out his hand and I place mine in it. He smiles and pulls me into the sea of black and white.

I loop my arms around his neck, not caring about proper ballroom dance hand placement etiquette, and he smiles even wider, placing his own hands low on my waist, dangerously close to inappropriate for these stuck-up bastards around us. I love it. I want to give them more reasons to gape and gasp.

I lean my head against Victor’s chest, enjoying listening to his heartbeat. He pulls me close, so there’s no space between our bodies, and we sway to the beat. Eventually his fingers start to tap against my hips, gliding in rhythm to the song, as if he were playing it himself on the piano.

We go through another song like that, completely content just to be in each other’s arms. I finally lift my head slightly so I can look around. People are still watching me, and I refuse to retreat back into my self-conscious shell.

“I feel like someone’s going to come over and tell us we need to leave room for Jesus or something,” I giggle.

Victor laughs, leaning down, right into my face, “I wish they would. I’m really feeling like punching someone. My mother is unbelievable…” He shakes his head.

I twirl the hair at the back of his neck with my fingers, enjoying how his lids droop a bit from enjoying my touch, “Adrenaline racing?” I ask with a grin.

“Yeah,” he murmurs.

“Fighting isn’t the only way to burn off adrenaline, you know…”

Victor’s eyes widen and he looks down at me, chuckling, “You’re feeling a little feisty, too, huh? Not so princess-like.”

“The best princess is a well-rounded princess.”

I tighten my grip on the back of his neck and pull him down to me, brushing my lips against his. I feel him smile against me, and it only grows wider when I lick against the seam of his lips, wanting more. If I’m being confident, I might as well go all in.

There’s a sudden clearing of a throat to our side, and I immediately pull back. So much for confidence. It’s Mr Morgan, Victor’s father, who’s grinning wolfishly down at me, his brawny frame suddenly all I can see. Victor tenses against me, and he distances himself from me slightly so he can press between his dad and me, blocking me slightly from view, taking a defensive stance.

I’ve encountered Mr Morgan before, and he seems to love insinuating that I’m no good. I kind of hate the guy, and have always hated that Victor has to deal with him on a daily basis.

“Well, well. I saw your entrance, darlin’. You look fantastic in red. Although, my son doesn’t deserve to be the one on your arm. Or your other escort, for that matter.”

North materializes in front of me, speak of the devil, and he looks huge--and angry. Victor is pissed, too, and I know that this is really going to only end one way--with Mr Morgan bleeding--unless I do something.

“Wow, this party kind of blows, right, guys?” I say in a clear voice, completely ignoring Victor’s dad’s presence.

North and Victor both turn to look at me, surprised, and I continue, “And there’s a weird smell--kind of like ass. Yeah, that’s it. It reeks like pompous ass in here.” I’m channeling Gabriel right now, I know, but I need to take away a bit of the tension.

North stares at me with his dark eyes wide, and then he starts cracking up, “Jesus, baby, what the fuck?”

“Let’s go. I need fresh air. Maybe a burger.” I clutch onto Victor’s hand.

He’s still glowering at his dad. I squeeze his palm, and finally he turns and leads me back through the crowd, back through the lobby, past the doorman, and to the front. North is right behind us, and he gives a ticket to the valet. The sleek, black Porsche glides to a stop in front of us, and North gives me a tiny smack on my butt, making me remember our plans we have for this car--like I could’ve forgotten.

We squeeze into the two-seater, me squeezed onto Victor’s lap as North drives, and I lean back, letting my prince envelop me in his arms. He needs the comforting contact, and I don’t mind it.

It’s quiet until North finally asks, “So, where am I driving us to?”

“Nathans,” I answer without hesitation, “We’re gonna change, and then we’re going to go get our punk on.”

“Baby, the others are working. We can’t go interrupt that.”

“We’re just going to go and have fun. They can work, we can hang out. It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Victor chuckles darkly, and the vibrations go from his chest to mine, “C’mon, Princess. You’re never supposed to say those words. That’’s like saying ‘At least it’s not raining!’ Boom--instant rain.”

“He’s right, babe. You just jinxed the whole operation.”

I don’t know what to say. Screw it. I’ve been going strong with my confidence kick all night--why stop now?

“Well, then we better go. They’ll need all the help they can get. I’m not taking no for an answer.” I finish, voice strong and commanding.

“Fuck,” North mutters, but I know he’s going to do what I want.

“Kota’s going to be so pissed.” Victor groans, but I can feel his silent laughter, too.

“Mr Blackbourne’s there too,” I giggle, and he stiffens, before laughing outright.

“The things we do for you…” Victor murmurs into my ear before nuzzling my neck.

I let out a contented sigh. I’m kind of in the mood to stir things up. Both Gabe and Victor have called me feisty tonight. Maybe I’ll prove them right.