“There. I think I got it.” Kingston finishes buttoning his dress shirt and begins the process of knotting his bright red tie.
“Do you need to test it out?” I straighten the corner of his collar.
“John and I did that earlier,” my boyfriend says. “It was just a matter of getting it taped up properly without smothering the mic. All I need to do at this point is to hit the button to activate it once we’re there.”
It turns out, John Peterson’s FBI friend is, in fact, investigating mine and Kingston’s fathers. John wouldn’t give us any real details because he doesn’t want to compromise the case, but he seems to think this is a positive development. Kingston agreed to wear a wire to the party tonight since there’s a possibility several vital players will be in attendance. He’s also decided to hand over any incriminating video footage we have, though I don’t know how Kingston’s getting around the fact that he’s technically engaging in illegal surveillance. John says he trusts this guy, and Kingston trusts John, so I’m going with it.
“Well, look at that. We clean up well, don’t you think?” I gesture to our reflection in the mirror above Kingston’s dresser.
His eyes darken as they take me in, lingering on my subtle cleavage for a few seconds. “You look incredible, but that’s really no different from any other day.”
I’m wearing an emerald green midi-length dress that’s fitted through the bodice with a flowy skirt. It’s simple and delicate but totally appropriate for my age. More importantly, unlike the last dress I wore to a stuffy event, this one lacks the sex kitten vibe. When I moved to the hills, my closet was filled with beautiful clothing, but there wasn’t a single cocktail dress because Madeline says evening wear should only be worn once then promptly discarded. She didn’t appreciate my scoff after that ridiculous statement, but it’s not like I really give a fuck.
My stepmonster tried buying me something to wear for tonight, but I declined for obvious reasons and raided Ainsley’s closet instead. Thankfully, the girl has a massive wardrobe, with items ranging from perfectly chaste all the way over to this-would-look-perfect-with-a-pair-of-stripper-heels. I chose a dress on the former end of the spectrum because the last thing I’d want to do is show up to a house filled with pervy old men in an overtly sexy garment. You’d think I was completely naked, though with the way my boyfriend’s gaze eats me up.
The tips of my ruby red fingernails scrape against Kingston’s light brown stubble. “You keep looking at me like that, and we’re never getting out of here.”
“As tempting as that is, I’ve got a job to do.” His full lips curve. “But save that thought for later.”
“Uh-huh.” I pat his cheek condescendingly to cover up the fact that I want to climb him like a tree. “I’ll be counting the seconds until I can get you naked.”
“Smartass.” Kingston smacks me on the butt. Hard.
“Huh,” I muse. “I think I can see the appeal.”
He laughs. “What?”
My lips twitch. “Nothing.”
He stares at me for a moment like he’s trying to read my mind. “We should get going.”
“Yep.” I grab the little clutch purse—also borrowed—from Kingston’s nightstand, shoving my lip gloss and phone inside. “Let’s do this.”
***
A chill skitters down my spine as I remove my coat and hand it to the butler, shaking my head at the fact that anyone would need an actual fucking butler. Alexander Ivanov, the host of tonight’s shindig, lives in a mansion in Brentwood Hills, and it’s as opulent as one might expect. The weird thing is that places like this aren’t shocking me as much as they used to, and I’m not entirely comfortable with that fact.
Kingston runs his finger down the crease between my brows. I didn’t even realize I was frowning until he did that.
He places a hand at the small of my back and leans into my ear. “Relax.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I was just taking in all the swanky stuff.”
His hazel eyes briefly look around as he presses a hand to his chest to activate the wire. “I’m so used to it, it doesn’t even faze me.”
“And that’s exactly what I’m afraid is happening to me,” I mumble under my breath.
“Don’t worry, Jazz. No matter how long you’re in this world, you’ll never be like that.” He nods his head to the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills wannabes.
Holy crap! As I get a better look, I think one of them might be the real deal.
Kingston guides me through the house toward the back end, where most people are gathered.
“Have you been here before? It seems like you know where you’re going.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’ve been to enough of these things to know how it works. There’s a pattern. Women are usually gathered off to the side in small clusters socializing while the men are somewhere else bullshitting or talking business.”
“Well, that seems awfully sexist.”
His shoulders lift. “It is what it is.”
As I glance around, I see what Kingston’s talking about. For the most part, the room is awfully segregated, save a few exceptions. One of those exceptions is Ainsley, who we’ve just spotted standing next to her father and a dark-haired man. My bestie gesticulates wildly as she talks, while Reed stands at her side, looking amused by her obvious enthusiasm.
Preston notices us first and waves us over, rudely interrupting his daughter. “Kingston! Jasmine. Come join us.”
Ainsley’s eyes fall to the polished floor, not at all surprised by her father’s dismissal, which both saddens me and pisses me off. Reed’s expression is leaning more toward homicidal now, which leads me to believe he feels the same. She gives me a small smile when I stand next to her and link our pinkie fingers together.
“Alexander, I’d like you to meet Jasmine Callahan.” Preston inclines his head in my direction.
“Jasmine, I’ve heard so much about you.” I’m not at all okay with the fact that these two were discussing me. Neither is Kingston if the tic of his jaw is any indication. “You weren’t kidding, Preston. From what I recall, she does resemble her mother quite a bit.”
I stifle the urge to cringe when Alexander takes my hand and places a kiss on top. “You knew my mom?”
Kingston places his palm on my lower spine, which lends me the strength I need to remain calm.
“Yes,” Alexander confirms. “Though, regretfully, not nearly as well as some.” He side-eyes Preston as he says that last part.
Preston flashes a smarmy smile. “Your father and I have been doing business with Alexander for many years.”
“What kind of business?” Kingston asks.
Preston’s goldish-green eyes slice to his son. “A little of this, a little of that. You know how it goes.” His gaze returns to me. “Coincidentally, Alex and I met the same evening Charles introduced me to your lovely mother.”
“Really?” I tilt my head to the side in question. “I didn’t realize she and my father had the kind of relationship where he would introduce her to friends.”