Page 6 of Goldsin

What does he know that I don’t?

“Life is a game, Adrian.” I maintain an unwavering gaze. “And we’re simply playing our part.”

His eyes flick back and forth between mine before he raises his glass in a silent toast. “May the best player win.”

“May the best player win.”

CHAPTER TWO

JULIAN

Ispot her fiery red hair first.

She’s straightened it, pinning it in such a way that it falls seamlessly down her open back. I’ve never liked it when she does that, because the locks of curls that fall over her forehead when she gets frustrated have a different kind of appeal. They make me mad with the need to thread my fingers through them and pull her to me.

It suits her better, being wild and untamed.

There’s a sudden shift in the room as she weaves her way through the crowd. The chatter buzzing around me vanishes as I watch those defiant green eyes scan the room before landing on me.

She gives me a once-over, indifference evident in her posture. Yet I see the flutter of her lashes the moment she notices I’m staring back. The rise and fall of her chest is impossible to miss.

Yet she doesn’t come to me. Instead she turns around and heads in the opposite direction, far from me.

Snatching another full glass from the passing waiter, I drown myself in alcohol.

Ten years of ignoring her and it’s taken only one second of her ignoring me for me to lose it.

“Mr. Harrow, I must say, your family throws the most exquisite parties!” a woman gushes next to me, her neon-pink lips stretching into a smile, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her.

Instead I lean against the wall, already exasperated by the charade. It’s not been long since I arrived at this hellhole, and I can barely feign interest.

I grunt in response.

She mentioned her name not too long ago. But I already forgot it.

I don’t give two shits about the family business; even less about these time-consuming events that serve no purpose. I’d rather be out there bashing some fucker’s face in at the Den, my underground fight club. Or watching a fucker’s face get bashed in by someone else. I’m not picky really.

“Your tattoos are quite fascinating.” The woman brushes her finger over the ink peeking out from beneath the sleeve of my tailored suit. “I’ve always loved a man with art on his body.”

If it weren’t for Aurelia commanding my full attention, I’d be sick to my stomach at how this woman is touching me. Flirting with me when I’m young enough to be her son.

Unable to tear my eyes away, I follow Aurelia’s every move.

She stands tall and confidentin the room, commanding attention, her chin jutted out defiantly as she sways through the crowd. The silver material of her dress hugs her curves perfectly.

She’s in the middle of the ballroom when my mother approaches her. A warm light cascades over them from the nearby candles. Flecks of burned honey make Aurelia’s eyes appear almost angelic.

Almost.

In an instant, images of that night consume my mind. I grind my teeth at the memory of her touch. Her taste?—

Fuck.

“Julian, are you even listening to me?”

I inhale a deep breath at the interruption. The woman stares at me expectantly.

“Whatever you say won’t convince me to fuck your dry cunt tonight,” I grunt, my gaze glued to Aurelia despite the gasps and scoffs coming from Stevie.

---