Page 73 of Dance of Madness

“Shit, sorry, wereyougoing to buy this?” He holds up the copy ofWerther.

“Nope,” I blurt quickly. A little awkwardly.

He frowns. “Okayyy?”

“Great book,” I mumble before hurrying to catch up with Evie and Brooklyn.

Maison Aurore is just two blocks over. Very high-end, curated, seriouslygreatstuff. I’ve spentwaytoo much here over the years.

Brooklyn is already flipping through hangers. Evelina follows with bouncy interest. I break off and drift toward a rack of slip dresses.

Maybe a distraction will help.

“Oh,hell yes.” I turn. Brooklyn’s nodding at the dress I’ve stopped at—an electric violet sequined thing with a hint of glittery silver threading through it.

“Youhaveto buy that.”

I snort. “How about I try itonfirst?”

She rolls her eyes. “Amex black cards arewastedon some people.”

I smack her arm, making her giggle.

Brooklyn knows Ihatebeing labeled as a mafia princess or some privileged trust fund brat with Daddy’s credit card. Obviously, I’m insanely fortunate. I live in a virtual castle. I want for nothing. I could almost certainly buy this whole store…if I had my father’s credit card.

But I don’t—and I don’t want to. Obviously, my needs are taken care of, but what I spend on myself is my own money from my dance career. Which ain't much.

“Bitch,” I tease.

She grins back. “Oooo, touchy-touchy. Seriously, buy that. It’s gorgeous. If you don’t, I’m buying itforyou.”

Unlike myself, Brooklyn comes fromnothing. What she has, she’s worked her fucking ass off for.

She'snotbuying me a five-hundred-dollar dress.

“Let me go try it on.”

She smirks. “Much better.”

Laz and Bane are outside the shop where Bane is smoking a cigarette. Brooklyn wanders over to where the salesclerk is helping Evie hold up an array of bubbly pink gowns in front of a mirror.

I take the dress with me to the back of the store, slipping down a small hallway and into one of the dressing rooms, closing the door behind me. I turn to face the floor-length mirror, gazing at my reflection for a minute.

What if it’s Laz…

I shake the thought away, turning from the mirror to hang up the dress. I strip down to my bra and panties, pluck the dress off the hanger, and tug it down over my head. My hair tumbles over my face, briefly turning my world platinum blonde before I find the armholes and the neck.

That’s when it happens.

A hand slams over my mouth, stifling the scream as it tears from my throat. A heavy, muscled weight slams into me, one hand pinning me to the mirror as the other grabs my hip possessively.

Lips tickle my ear, making the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up as heat ripples down my spine.

“Miss me, princess?”

15

NERO

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