Page 23 of Breaking Point

Chapter Eleven

Crew

My first thought as we step out of the sleek, silver four-door is that Olivia’s car is a fish-bowl. No tint. No auto lock. Dated safety features at best.

It bothers me to no end. Because if I hadn’t ridden to work on my bike, we would’ve taken my car.

I’ll remember next time, I note, but as I open Olivia’s door, I know that the night is only beginning.

Her long golden dress spills out of the car before she does, briefly meeting my eye. The look only lasts a second before the valet takes the keys.

I scan the crowd as we take the last few steps inside the country club. I’ve been to my fair share of events here, but I don’t think I’ve ever had the honor of an actual invitation. A fact made apparent because as soon as we step inside, someone thrusts an arm in front of us.

I block Olivia from view, gripping the person’s arm with enough force that they glare. The woman clears her throat, looking down her nose at me despite being a good foot shorter.

“Excuse me, Sir. Do you have an invitation?”

“I do.” Olivia intervenes. The woman’s gray, nearly silver, eyes drop to Olivia who offers a glittering piece of gold parchment. “And he’s with me.”

“Does he-“

“He’s with me,” Olivia repeats. “My plus-one.” The woman’s eyes slide to me again, and despite having security clearance and easily being able to get inside, watching this preening woman open the invitation and read ‘Olivia Hughes + 1’ is much more satisfying.

From what Olivia told me, tonight’s an auction benefiting some vaguegood cause. Most of those in attendance probably don’t know what it’s for either.

I smirk, dropping the woman’s arm. “Is there a problem?”

“Just wouldn’t want to let in any of the riff-raff.” She flashes a saccharin smile, flipping the invitation back toward us. “Enjoy the party, Ms. Hughes.”

She shoulder checks me as she passes, and I smile at the reaction. On a normal day, I’m exactly the kind of riff-raff she’d want to keep out.

The rich can smell blood in the water.

Olivia huffs as we stroll further inside where light reflects off the mosaic wall tiles, painting the dome ceiling in Westlan red. An event like this is usually crawling with security. I notice there’s at least six guards posted around the room, but Olivia is the only one with a private detail. And it’s noticeable. People watch as we pass.

“Is everyone here always so intense?” she laughs under her breath.

“Isn’t thisyourscene?” I say, hiding my surprise.

The country club seems like just the place she might find solace. If I recall, this is where Olivia and Charlotte often metbefore things went down. Any pretty girl with money would kill to be in her place, but she doesn’t respond for a long moment.

“You make it sound like I’m a princess.” The name does seem fitting, but the comment makes me look at her. As we stroll toward the ballroom, I don’t have much time to read her expression. “I’ve never felt so out of place.”

“What do you mean by that?”

She grabs a glass of punch from a passing waiter before peering up at me. “It means I should’ve worn designer.”

I don’t have enough time to evaluate the words before a familiar face appears from the crowd. Her face brightens.

“Aleksander Benenati. Didn’t think we’d be seeing each other again so soon.”

So soon?

Aleks grins, white teeth flashing. “Olivia Hughes. Still as stunning as ever, I see.”

Olivia laughs as he pulls her in for a hug. “Enjoying the party?”

They converse for a few moments. Despite being Skar’s kid brother, Aleks’ blond hair is easily one of the most identifiable things about him. That and his distinctive silver cane make him one of the better known socialites tonight.

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