I make it down the long hall in the main part of the hotel, use the restroom, and spend a few minutes touching up my makeup and hair.
Standing by the mirrors when the door swings open, I groan to hear Hillary’s voice, her words excitable as she talks to Kelly.
“I can’t wait until we leave in a few minutes. Ezra told me the party is at Gabriel’s place tonight. You and I both know just how many bedrooms they have in that house.”
The tiny squeal that volleys from her throat to echo through the large room makes me cringe.
Ignoring it, I tuck a stray hair behind my ear and step away from the mirrors.
It isn’t until they round the corner that they see me, Hillary’s eyes pinning me in place, her mouth curling into a taunting line.
“Oh, Emily. We didn’t know you were in here.”
Glancing at her as I walk past on my way to the door, I answer, “Why does it matter? If you had known, I’m sure you would have still been excited to announce you’re a slut.”
I pull open the door and flick a look at her from over my shoulder. “Have fun in the bedroom tonight.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she snaps.
The argument isn’t worth my time, so rather than acknowledging the question, I walk out into the hall. I’m barely ten feet away when they both come storming out of the bathroom, Hillary’s voice carrying a nasty edge as she yells at me.
“At least I’m not here all alone. How does it feel to know nobody wants you? Not even the person you’re supposed to marry?”
They laugh as if she said something witty.
Picking up my pace, I have my head angled to the floor because I can’t stand to look at the people staring at us now, Hillary still causing a scene despite how quickly I’m attempting to walk away.
“Would you like to know what the twins said about you? Both of them laughed when they told us how much of slut you are. The only reason they told people not to talk about you is because they were too embarrassed they’d ever touched you in the first place.”
I don’t believe her, but that doesn’t mean her words don’t sting.
The twins had invited them to prom after kissing me and playing a game. I’d be stupid to think I matter to them in the slightest.
It feels like I can’t get away fast enough, my heels painful with how fast I’m walking, my hands fisting the skirt of my gown to hold it up.
I’m almost to the ballroom when I slam against a hard body, my balance knocked off and legs unsteady.
If not for the hands that grip both my arms, I would have fallen on my ass.
The first thing I notice is the cologne he wears, something dark and haunted, a masculine spice that infects my blood until my heart is pumping far too fast.
I glance up and see an amber stare looking down at me. I don’t know if it’s Ezra or Damon, but whoever it is looks up and beyond my shoulder, his expression twisting with anger.
Hillary’s voice dies away, and there’s a distinct tension in the air that I want to escape. Yet when I attempt to pull my arms from his grip, his fingers tighten, his body so still that it feels like I’m standing next to a ticking bomb about to explode.
“Oh, hey,” Hillary croons, stepping beside us. Her eyes flick to me with disgust before her expression changes entirely to look up at...hell if I know. It’s one of the twins.
“Are we leaving soon? I can’t wait to get you alone.”
Ezra...or Damon...stares over at her with a look on his face I can’t read. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Judging by Hillary’s expression, neither does she.
Instead of answering her, he releases one of my arms but refuses to let go of the other. I’m escorted back into the ballroom, his predatory stride so fast that I can barely keep up.
Hillary and Kelly are struggling to keep up with us as well, their faces worried, their eyes cutting to me every time I glance back at them.
We reach the Inferno table, and all the guys look up wearing bored expressions. Damon...or Ezra...is the only one to push to his feet.
He rounds the table and stands close for his brother to whisper something to him.
I see anger flash across his face as well, those amber eyes flicking a quick glance at Hillary and Kelly before he takes my free hand and says nothing while leading me away from the table.
Trying to pull away is useless, my shoes skidding on the floor as he tugs me forward.
“Damn it. Stop,” I demand, yanking my hand free as he turns to face me.
“What are you doing?”
His lips twitch with humor, but then he steps closer in that way he has of stealing my personal space without any concern for what it does to me. His head dips down, and his eyes are level with mine.
I just want to scream because I have no fucking clue who I’m looking at.
“I’m taking you to dance.” His voice is gentle and teasing, as if what he was planning should have been obvious.
“Why? Shouldn’t you be dancing with your date?”
I hate the way the words snap off my tongue with so much burning jealousy I’m surprised he’s not scorched.
All he does in response is arch a brow, grab my shoulders and spin me in place enough that I can stare over at the table.
I have no idea what the other twin is saying to Hillary and Kelly, but he’s hovering over them in that threatening way of his, his words clipped and brutal if the tears running down their cheeks have anything to say for it.
When I attempt to turn away, he traps my shoulders to hold me in place, his chest pressing against my back as I watch his brother lead Hillary and Kelly away from the ballroom.
His lips press against my ear.
“Happy now?”
“No.”
Letting me go so I can turn back to him, he grins down at me.
“Are you going to dance with me or what?”
“What just happened?” I ask, even more frustrated than I was ten seconds ago.
“We got rid of our fake dates. Why?”
There’s humor in his answer, his eyes glimmering and warm.
“Fake dates?”
What is he talking about? It pisses me off when his shoulders shake with quiet laughter.
“Did you think we actually wanted to come with them?”
I’m sure he intended for that admission to make me feel better, but it’s just another example of the games they play.
Instead of comfort, I feel anger. And instead of feeling relief, my muscles tense with warning and suspicion.
“That’s not okay. Why would you do that to them? This is their prom, and you treated it like a game?”
Ezra...or Damon...winces, honest surprise flickering across his expression.
Fuck, I don’t even know who I’m talking to.
“Who are you?”
“Damon.”
So that means Ezra is escorting Hillary and Kelly out.
“And you were the one beneath the willow tree? Or were you the one in the room with me at Kyle’s house?”
A slow curl to his lips wipes away the concern in his expression.
“You figured that out?”
“Of course, I figured it out,” I snap. “And I’m not happy about it! Why are you two doing this to me?”
Lifting his hands in surrender, he backs away a step.
“I’m just taking you to dance.”