Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(3)

I pull away before he can feel the phantom sutures unraveling, and paste a wide, fake smile on my face. There’s no telling if he believes it or not, but at least he doesn’t comment further.

Later, after I’ve ushered Boyd into the back of a cab before he could change his mind, I rush back up to the hotel suite and am just coming out of the bathroom when Aurora and Mellie return. Both girls have a myriad of shopping bags draped over their forearms, and they drop them off en route to the bedroom they’ve been sharing, disappearing the second I step into view.

Resentment burns in my throat, but I stuff it down, turning left and heading to my room. I flop onto the mattress, already regretting sending my brother away.

I mess around on my laptop for a bit, working on a website mock-up for my professional portfolio—the one I’m collecting in case I decide I want to apply to any design programs after high school.

It was a suggestion of an old therapist that I find a hobby after my assault and my mother’s death left me emotionally stagnant, and so for the last two years, I’ve been dabbling in web design.

I’m no expert, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t boost my serotonin levels significantly.

A knock on the door pulls me from my screen, and I sit up, pushing the laptop onto the mattress as Mellie pokes her head in.

Her platinum-blonde hair is streaked with royal blue, and she tucks a piece of it behind her ear as she quickly glances around the room.

“Mr. Kelly’s gone?” she asks, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from rolling my eyes at the formality. Like I don’t know every girl I go to school with masturbates to the thought of my brother.

I could hear Aurora getting off to him in her imagination last night while she showered, the sounds of her pleasure obvious in the shared living space. He heard it too, and promptly called his girlfriend and went to the lobby to talk to her.

“Left a little while before you guys got back,” I say, voice flat, picking up my phone from the bedside table. I unlock it, scrolling aimlessly through social media apps, trying to pretend as though her presence doesn’t unnerve me.

“Awesome.” Pushing the door open all the way, Mellie bursts into the room, dragging a long dry-cleaning bag behind her. Unzipping it, she pulls out a scrap of dark-green silk fabric and tosses it my way. “Quick, put this on.”

I catch the garment, furrowing my brows as I clutch the soft material. “What is it?”

“It’s a dress, you troll.” Aurora strolls inside, her deeply bronzed skin glowing against the sparkly, hot pink number she’s wearing. The sequined hem hits her mid-thigh, showing off her toned calf muscles, and she’s in the middle of pinning her black, curly hair up.

“Ror,” Mellie scolds, offering me an apologetic smile.

Aurora rolls her brown eyes, shrugging as she turns to look in the mirror. “Oh, come on. Riley knows I’m joking. But what kind of question is that?”

Heat sears my cheeks, and the scar on one pulses to life. I finger the green fabric, noting the plunging neckline as I spread it over my lap.

“This is really fancy,” I say slowly, confusion worming through my brain. “We went to the opera last night, and Le Bernardin the night before… what do we need to get dressed up for tonight?”

“It’s a charity event.” Aurora arches a brow. “You’re familiar with charity, right?”

My eye twitches.

“Because your brother’s girlfriend’s family hosts a lot of fundraisers,” she continues, a little grin tugging at the side of her mouth. I want to smack it off her.

It’s true, at least—the Ivers family is a staple of generosity back home, and Boyd’s girlfriend, Fiona, is the figurehead for fundraising ever since her mom passed.

But still, I don’t believe that’s what Aurora meant.

“Yeah, I guess you could say I’m used to dealing with the less fortunate.” I hold her gaze when I speak, a little flare of fire sparking through me. Determination to not let her bitchy ass ruin my night.

“Great.” Her tone is overly sweet and flaky, like spun cotton candy. “We have tickets to the gala of the year, and we need to look our best.”

My stomach rolls as I grip the dress tighter. “Why?”

Mellie beams at me, coming over with a tiny leather pouch. She drops it on the bed beside me, then starts pulling out various tubes of makeup, holding them up to my face as she decides which to keep out.

“Word is Aiden James is gonna be there,” she gushes, uncapping a bottle of liquid foundation. “And he’s looking to place a bid at the live auction.”

I lean back, my insides knotting together at the thought of being in the same building as the rock god I spent my formative years drooling over. At one time, I would’ve already known he was in the city.

I’d probably have planned to arrive at the gala myself.

But a lot’s changed over the last two years. My obsession lessened—or at least, I thought it had.

The sweat beading along my hairline suggests otherwise.

“So, what? You guys are gonna try to talk to him?”

“Why not?” Mellie says, shrugging. “Might as well try to get him to see what we have to offer.”

“We aren’t a charity, though. We don’t have anything for him to bid on.”