Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(25)

I dry them quickly, then grab a hotel-branded water bottle from the fridge and walk over to where they sit, contemplating if I want to join them or not. Perching on the arm of the sofa, I wait for an invitation. Something to prove they don’t hate me, despite everything.

Because I’m an idiot who seems to accept the scraps tossed her way.

Better than going hungry, I suppose.

“Where did you guys go tonight?” I ask, avoiding the gore on the television.

“Oh, you know. We walked around the event area. Tested out a few of the physical products they had up to bid on, mingled with a lot of B-listers. Boring stuff, really.”

I watch Mellie’s lips move as she speaks, but for some reason, I don’t buy a word of it. “I looked but couldn’t find you.”

“We were around,” Aurora says, shrugging. “Must not have looked hard enough.”

“That silver fox at the bar probably stole her attention,” Mellie giggles. Her thumb prods at my knee, nudging as if we’re in on the same little joke.

“He looked very Wolf of Wall Street.” Aurora raises a brow. “Hope you made him wrap it.”

“Jesus, Ror.”

My face heats, the anxiety from before flushing my skin. As it trickles down my chest like an IV drip, I push to my feet, not wanting them to know there’s even a little truth to their words.

Sure, it wasn’t the “silver fox” I left with, but that doesn’t exactly make it better.

Excusing myself from the room, I lock myself in the bathroom and get ready for bed. Washing the day’s events from my body, I push them as far from the forefront of my mind as possible, ignoring the ache between my thighs.

I don’t want to think too hard about why I’m suddenly so sore there, so instead I sit with the detachable showerhead against my pussy for several minutes. I don’t come, don’t imagine Aiden’s talented fingers or mouth working me over. I just let the water soothe.

Fiona calls as I’m climbing beneath the goose down comforter, and I pick up as I flip off the bedside light.

“So?” she says, in lieu of hello. My brother’s girlfriend isn’t one for greetings or goodbyes. “Did you do it?”

I yawn. “Do what?”

“Get a tattoo! God, it’s been like an hour and a half since you texted me that picture. Is your memory that bad?”

Only when I want it to be. Clearing my throat, I stuff my hand beneath the comforter and run a finger over the fresh ink, wishing I’d thought to grab a tube of ointment before I made my escape earlier. I make a mental note to steal some from Boyd when I get home tomorrow.

“Yeah.”

I pause, chewing on my bottom lip as I consider telling her more. If there’s anyone I can trust to keep a secret, it’s Fiona Ivers—lord knows she kept my brother as one for months, back before they officially became a couple.

“That’s not… all I did tonight, though,” I say finally, and even just the hint of a confession makes my shoulders sag with relief. “I kind of went on a date with Aiden James.”

Silence fills the line, twisting my gut into impenetrable knots. I stare out the window at the dark sky, wondering how far out you have to go from the city before you can see the stars again.

Some shuffling comes through the phone, and then it sounds like a door closes, and she’s back. “Okay, sorry. Definitely not something I want your brother to hear. I’m in our closet now. What do you mean you went out with Aiden James? The musician? The Aiden James you’re totally in love with?”

I snort, slinking down farther beneath the covers. “I’m not in love with him, but yes. That Aiden James. He kind of bought my time at some weird charity gala we went to, and things kind of just spiraled from there.”

“Holy shit.” She laughs, the sound breathless.

I can imagine her curled up in the corner of the closet she shares with my brother, tucked between Louboutin heels with her dark-red hair pulled into the messy bun she likes to sleep in.

“That’s insane. What did you do? Do you think he liked you? Did you exchange numbers so you could see him again?”

Excited chatter is one of Fiona’s many features, and I can already tell she’s ramping up to some questions I don’t know how to answer.

“I didn’t exactly tell him my name,” I say, cutting her off.

“What? Why the hell not?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, and I don’t. Truthfully, it was the night my dreams used to be made of and giving him my name at the end of it would’ve at least given him the opportunity to find me one day down the road.

Maybe that’s why I kept it a secret.

I don’t want him to find me.

“It’s complicated. We… did stuff, and I don’t know. Have you ever been… intimate with someone, and felt gross about it afterward?”

She hums. “Did he force you to do something?”

“No!” I pinch my eyes closed, not even sure what I’m trying to say anymore. “I don’t know. I guess it was just a long night, and I didn’t think about giving him my name. Besides, I kind of like the idea of this being a one-night thing. Two strangers passing by, looking for a way to pass the time. That kind of deal.”

“God, please don’t ever tell Boyd that.” She laughs again, and it almost warms the icy brick of unease sitting on the floor of my stomach.