Nicky’s dark eyes crinkle at the corners with a sly grin covering his lips. “While we’re here…”
“May as well steal their food and drinks.”
He snaps his fingers and points at me. “This is why you’re the president.”
My chest aches.No. That’s not why…
The walls were once white but have faded to a depressing shade of ochre. Worse are the stains surrounding theBetagroup photos from years past, sitting above the dark wood panels.
Glass cases contain their symbols of the Lunar Chalices from previous awards. Mainly from the annual Thriller Thursday, which they’re expected to win again. After weDeltastook Wicked Wednesday, I don’t care thatBetawill likely place first next Thursday. So long as we win another one of the events left this year.
As I approach the end near the window, the party noise dampens enough that I make out heavy breathing. A door labeled with something on a gold plaque sits slightly ajar. I open it wider.
Ayan Dutta stands in front of his desk, his brown ass pumping rapidly between the thighs of theIotapresident. Whatever-her-name-is perches on theedge, nails digging into his back like she’s drowning. My upper lip curls with disgust. Didn’t want to see this…
She spots me, then pulls Ayan closer, covering up her huge, flopping tits. “Ayan! There’s someone here!”
He glances over his shoulder and growls. “Get the fuck out of here, Griffin! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
Jaw locking, I back away and ease the door shut.
“Whowasthat?” the woman asks.
“Apollo Griffin. An illiterate poor kid cosplaying as someone important.”
Heat floods my face.
The worst part is, he says it like it’s obvious. Like the whole world already knows.
Sothat’swhy he wanted me here. To show off—his power, his girl, his supposed superiority. A little demo of what I’ll never be.
The Glock tingles against my hip. As I think about pulling it out and giving him the scare of his life, a hand taps my shoulder.
I whirl around to face theBetasecretary, Logan Dawson. Tolerable and responsible. Probably the only one around here to do actual work.
“Hey,” he says. “Sorry. Ayan is, um, tied up.” Closing the door with finality, he waves toward the front of the house.
“No, he’s not,” I say, following behind. “He seemed veryfreeto me.”
Logan seems sheepishly apologetic. Cheeks flaming red. Hand shaking as he smooths out his dirty-blond hair. Sweat steaming up his wire-rimmed glasses. “Okay, well. Sorry, he’s a dick—Oh, shit.”
He whips his gaze to the entrance, wherea couple of women waltz in. A tiny brunette in a tight gold dress tosses her hair back like she owns the place.
The two spot Logan and head straight toward us. He positions his body in the middle of the hall, blocking the way to the office. My heart pounds harder as they approach.
“Hello, Scout. Ellis,” Logan says. “Good to see you.”
“Where’s Ayan?” Scout asks as she peeks over his shoulder. But she’s way too short to see. She gives me a quick scan with deep ocean-blue eyes. The kind that make you feel like you’re being measured.
She’s attractive. Her friend is, too, but not like this one. But there’s something about her that seems scared.
And scary.
“Um, he’s busy right now? He’ll be out in a minute?”
“Why are you saying everything like it’s a question?” she snaps, and I startle at the ferocity such a little thing could hold.
Ellis crosses her arms. “Can you handle going to tell Mr. Almighty that hisgirlfriendis here? Come on.” With a huff, she tugs Scout toward the living room, both women casting us nasty sneers.