Page 135 of Hide and Keep

He’s practically fucking her with his eyes right in front of everyone and I, for one, don’t like it. I hate it. In fact, I find myself wanting to rip his head off his body.

“I apologize if that was too forward,” he says to Ever, but I’d prefer he say it to my fucking ass—that’s how much I don’t care to hear it.

But apparently, Ever doesn’t feel the same because she tilts her head in a manner that even though I can’t see her eyes, Iknowshe’s eye-fucking him right back as she purrs, “No, not at all.”

Damn it, heads are about to roll.

“In fact, I was thinking the same thing about you.”

She was? Ever is resplendent. That’s a fact. An understated one, but a fact nonetheless. But this guy Mallory? He looks like every other asshole in attendance here tonight, only younger. His hair’s darker than Ever’s, sure. And he’s tall, at least an inch or two taller than my 6’3”. But his face is just as forgettably flawless as everybody else’s, mine being the only exception. Nomatter how hard I try to blend in, I still catch the lingering looks on my cheek, the marred skin under my eye burning from the scrutiny.

Beside the pair, Penn and Arthur have gone awfully quiet, each of their eyebrows in varied states as they watch their offspring interact.

What? Are they hoping for some kind of connection between the two? Mallory’s too old for Ever. Being younger than this crowd isn’t difficult when everyone’s in their sixties. He’s still older than both me and Ever, probably in his early to mid-thirties. She needs someone younger, someone who can keep up with her.

But not too young, like those sluggish clones of hers.

Mallory holds out a hand to Ever. “Care to dance?”

Ever turns her head side to side, surveying their surroundings—their non-dance floor surroundings—giving me a glimpse of her lips. They’re pulled high in a smile. She’s happy. This guy is making her happy.

I don’t know why that makes my intestines twist, but it does.

“Everyone will look at us,” Ever responds in a shy tone. Is she flirting with him? Does shelikehim?

Doesn’t meanIhave to like him. If anything, I should like him even less. Her father hired me to keep fuckboys away from her. I don’t care how old he is or how expensive his suit is, as far as I can tell, Mallory Larson could very well be a fuckboy.

“Everyone’s already looking at you. Might as well give them something to talk about while they’re at it.”

That was so fucking cheesy. She better not go for—

Placing her hand in his, Ever lets Mallory pull her into an embrace, then their bodies begin swaying to the barely audible music.

She went for it. And I…can’t be close to her. Shit. She needs her rocks.

Or she did before Mallory Larson showed up.

An arm wraps around my shoulder, and with his face so close to mine I can smell the seafood on his breath, Arthur Munreaux says, “What do you say? Time for a much-needed break?”

No.

“But Miss Mun—”

“She’s fine. She’s in good hands.”

“The best,” Penn Larson agrees.

Arthur’s turning me away from the slow-dancing duo before I can come up with a halfway decent excuse for why I should stay and keep an eye on my protectee. “Because I want to” won’t cut it. It’s true though. I do want to. She might need my help. Penn Larson giving his son a glowing recommendation means absolutely fuck-all to me. Every parent talks up their kid. It doesn’t mean shit. What if he says something that upsets her? What if he rubs his stiff cock on her? By Arthur’s standards, Mallory’s better than a frat bro. But in my opinion, it doesn’t fucking matter who or what he’s better than, he’s still not good enough for Ever.

“Explore the grounds. See the art. Enjoy a moment of solitude.”

“With all due respect, sir, I don’t get paid to—”

“You get paid to do whatever the hell I tell you to do. Take a walk.” Arthur shoves me in a way that isn’t obvious to anyone but me, forcing my feet to move in the opposite direction than the rest of my body wants to go. Fuck.

I stride past sequins and cashmere, feathers and fur.

Fuck!

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