Page 37 of Sinful Storms

An arm brushed against my bare shoulder, and goosebumps appeared on my skin. “Of course. I’ll do that right away,” Tristan said, wrapping his fingers around my wrist.

“I’m not interested in meeting whoever it is your parents want to set me up with,” I hissed, digging my heels in as he began to lead me away.

“You’re not fucking meeting him,” he ground out, tugging harder. The only reason I went with him without a fuss was because I didn’t want to make a scene.

“Tristan, my lad.” Tristan’s uncle loomed in front of us, blocking our route. His cheeks and lips were stained red, which no doubt meant he’d been on the wine or port.

“Uncle Jack.” Tristan nodded briefly. I noticed a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“Judge Smith-Chamberlain,” I said politely.

His gaze slid to mine and then meandered down my body. “Aria. Mmm. All grown up. You?—”

Thankfully, I never got to hear the rest of his sentence because Tristan shouldered past him, pulling me through the crowds and across to a section of wall at the side of the room. Hepressed his fingers to the panelling, and when it popped open, I realised it was one of the servants’ doors, designed to look like part of the wall from inside the room.

He closed the door carefully, glancing both ways before turning to the left and leading me down the passageway. We passed a couple of staff members laden with platters of food, but they hurried by with their heads down, paid to be unobtrusive.

We continued on to the end of the corridor and then up a set of rickety wooden stairs that led to what was clearly the servants’ quarters. At the end of a long, draughty hallway, Tristan turned right, pushing open a door that led into another hallway, this one decorated as opulently as the downstairs. We finally came to a stop in front of a polished wooden door, and he opened it, gesturing with his hand.

“After you.”

I stepped into the darkened bedroom, and he followed me in, closing the door behind us with a soft click.

Releasing my wrist, he crowded up behind me, banding his arm around my torso, just below my breasts.“Let’s get one thing clear. You’re not meeting fucking Matthew Kent tonight. You’re not dancing with Blaine.”

“Too late for the second one.”

His hand clasped my throat. “Enough.”

“Hypocrite.” I swallowed beneath the press of his fingers. “You were dancing with someone earlier, and you looked like you were enjoying it.”

Taking the shell of my ear between his teeth, he bit down lightly. I shivered.

“No more games. We’re here tonight for one reason, and that’s to find out what my grandfather has to say about whatever was in that journal.” He paused, his fingers pressing harder into the side of my throat. “But just so you know, I only danced withher to keep my parents happy. You, on the other hand, had no excuse.”

“Who are you to say who I can dance with?”

Ignoring my question, he dipped his head lower, sliding his lips over my earlobe. “No jewellery. No embellishments. And somehow, you still manage to outshine every other woman in the room. How the fuck do you manage to do that? You did it at the ball, and you’re doing it again tonight.”

I had no reply.

Except…that wasn’t true because I found myself speaking, words flying from my mouth that I’d never planned on speaking aloud. Words I never even knew were inside me. “You’re the one who outshines everyone, and you know it. No one can take their eyes off you, not even me.”

He inhaled harshly, his fingers flexing on my throat. “Fuck.”

Abruptly, he released me, spinning to open the door and stepping through it. Before I could move, he closed it in my face, and then I heard him striding down the hall, leaving me all alone in a darkened room.

19

TRISTAN

Tonight was not going to plan. First, my parents had cornered me to ask why I hadn’t informed them about the fact I was no longer head boy. I’d listened to them both ranting for around fifteen minutes before they ran out of steam, and in the end, they’d thrown their hands up and said if I wanted to waste the opportunities I’d been given, it was my own fault.

After that, we’d joined the party, and my parents’ moods had greatly improved, in direct contrast to my own. My mother had asked me to dance with several different socialites, and I’d only acquiesced in order to smooth things over.

In the middle of my fourth dance, my mood had plummeted even further. Aria fucking Harper had waltzed into the party with one of my friends, looking hot as fuck and not even deigning to spare me a single glance. She’d been smiling and whispering with Blaine, looking all cosy as she stood way too close to him, and then they’d started dancing. His hands had held her almost possessively, and I’d had to fight back my sudden urge to storm over and rip his hands from her body.

I wasn’t sure what had horrified me more—Aria acting like I didn’t exist and looking far too happy with Blaine or the fact that I was horrified by her actions.

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