Throttled: Dirty Air (Book 1)(39)

I would count my evading techniques as successful, at least until my brother asks if I can attend a fashion show that apparently is a big deal. An A-list event I should be grateful to have an invite to.

Santi makes me watch him practice his runway walk to make sure he looks good. He loves the limelight, but not this kind—with the expectation to model. And I do not blame him at all. If I did a show like this, I would definitely fall flat on my face before rolling into the pool.

“Do you really need me there?” Please say no. I can only execute so much control around Noah. And once you add a tux element into the mix, it’s a recipe for disaster.

I feel like my brother sets me up for failure here.

“I never thought I’d have to convince you to go to this. Everyone wants a ticket.” He pouts at me, a bit extra for his standards. It impresses me yet flusters me all the same because he uses my own strategies to get me to agree.

I can’t get out of this when his words sound absolute. So I engage in the next step of a desperate woman’s plan.

I bargain.

“Can Sophie come—if she doesn’t have an invite already—because I don’t want to be alone during it.” I don’t trust myself, I mentally add before putting my two hands together in a silent plea.

He texts away on his phone, searching for the answer to my question, unable to resist my charm.

“All right, I got her a ticket too. But you both have to behave because I won’t be out there protecting you from the old men.”

“But I’ve always wanted a sugar daddy!” I whine while throwing my hands up in the air.

He throws a pillow at my face. Santi may have won this battle, but I’ll win the war.





15





Maya


“I can’t believe you scored us tickets for the fashion show. It’s one of the biggest events of the year.” Sophie bounces up and down in a chair. We went on a shopping spree earlier to buy dresses for the event because she claimed what we had wasn’t enough.

“Oh, believe it. We better finish getting ready. The car’s coming in twenty.” I don’t feel guilty about using Sophie as a cockblocker because her enjoyment rubs off on me.

Two birds, please meet my one stone.

I run a hand down the silky material of my blue dress. Looking at it now, I realize the blue matches the color of Noah’s eyes.

Fuck me. A fashion equivalent of a Freudian slip.

I grab my heels and book it out of the hotel room, wanting to get this night over with.

Sophie can’t stop chattering the whole car ride to the oceanfront destination. “Did you know all the guys will be modeling tonight?”

Can’t say I did.

“Are you excited for anyone in particular?” I want to pull any information about her thing with Liam. Sophie hides her attraction well, but I catch the briefest glances she gives him. She tells me they’re “just friends” ever since she pulled that card on him after our fail of a double date.

“Mm, no. Such an odd question. Are you?” She stares at me. Point taken.

We arrive at the fashion show location soon after. A cross-shaped stage floats in the center of a pool, lit from within and emitting a purplish glow. We make out different yachts anchored out in the ocean. The event bustles with enjoyment from the attendees while waiters walk around with food and drinks. Music streams from speakers around us.

“Let’s get a drink. Time to get this party started.” Sophie pulls me toward the bar area.

She handles ordering. “Can we have four shots of your finest tequila?”

My eyebrows rise. Two shots already? “I don’t want to end up a blubbering drunk mess tonight. Tequila makes me embarrassing.” Hard to forget how I cried in a bathroom. I blame the Jonas Brothers and their fourth band member, José.

“Relax.” She pats my arm for good measure. “We can get buzzed now so we can enjoy the show. We won’t have more until the alcohol wears off.”

She slides the two glasses toward me and we knock back the shots.



Sophie was right. This fashion show is way better with a buzz. Guys strut their stuff down the stage, each looking handsome in their different evening wear. I even whistle when Noah comes out. Not my fault he looks beyond fuckable in his tux, which calls out to me.

Whoops. This is the alcohol talking. A slip of the tongue. I do not want to fuck Noah Slade. I nudge Sophie when Liam comes out, his body pressed against the tailor-made suit and his blonde hair slicked back in his usual style. He even points her out of the crowd and sends her a wink. That one is a flirt, and honestly, I have no idea how Sophie resists him because her eyes light up whenever she sees him.

Once the show finishes, Sophie and I get the party started. Sophie bribes the DJ to let us behind his setup. She spins the turntables while I pick out songs from a playlist. We get a few people to bounce up and down, creating a small mosh pit at the center of the dance floor. I don’t think I’ve laughed any harder than I have with her.

A Bandini rep eventually pulls us away from the DJ area after we play our third reggaeton song. Apparently, it’s not well-suited for the elite crowd.

Two older guys ask us to dance and we agree. Not exactly my type but the haze of alcohol says yes for me as they pull us toward the dance floor. Sophie and I aren’t drunk. Only a little on the tipsy side, still managing to stay put together.