Page 81 of First Verse

I choke on laughter. “Rude.”

His smile softens to a teasing curl. “That being said, if you’re single at twenty-five, give me a call.” My mouth drops, but he continues idly, “To answer your roundabout question, I turn thirty in June and have been practicing for almost five years. I like to think I’ve carved my own success, but you got me on one count—Eaton and Associates is a family business. Full disclosure: I’m only here because I stole the invite from my much more successful father’s desk.”

“Ah,” I say with an exaggerated nod. “Then you’re afan.”

He laughs again. “I’ll admit to being a Glow convert after tonight, but the theft was at my sister’s behest. She’s around here somewhere. Dark hair? Crazy vibes? Also lacking full brain development?”

I roll my eyes but can’t help laughing. “Doesn’t sound familiar. What’s her name? I don’t want to leave without meeting her.”

Clay opens his mouth, but then his gaze lifts over my head and he closes it. A second later, a shadow falls over me and Wilder asks, “Evangeline? You ready to go?”

“Hi! Yes, absolutely.” I jump to my feet and offer Clay an apologetic smile. “Sorry. You’ve been great company, but I’m wiped out.”

He nods, smiling affably. “Completely understand.”

Wilder’s chest brushes my back, a hand curling around my waist and flattening over my stomach. While my body instantly lights up, my head tumbles with surprise. Neither of our families is here tonight, but there are still people around whoknowour families. Though we didn’t discuss boundaries outright, I know it’s why his kiss onstage was platonic and at least part of why we separated right when we came outside.

Maybe he’s jealous, whispers a small, pleased voice inside me. I slap that voice into a mental closet.

“Clay,” Wilder says stiffly.

Looking between them, my confusion spikes—they clearly know each other. Clay’s expression is aloof, almost cold, his eyes flat and dark. He’s like an entirely different man than the one I was laughing with a minute ago. A shiver rolls down my body.

“Wilder,” he says as he stands. His eyes move to me and soften slightly. “Great meeting you, Eva. Have a good night.”

My tongue tangles; by the time it unwinds, Clay has disappeared back into the tent. Wilder stares after him until I palm his face, directing his gaze to me.

“What was that about?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

I frown. “I don’t know what kind of beef you guys have, but he was perfectly nice and didn’t hit on me”—overtly, at least—“which puts him in a very small percentage of the men I spoke to tonight.”

I don’t mean the words as an accusation, but I feel him stiffen. Before I can clarify that I’m not upset he couldn’t stay by my side, he envelops me in his arms and kisses my forehead. I inhale a midnight rainstorm wrapped in warm leather. My body instantly relaxes, and I muse that his touch is a drug. One I’m happily addicted to.

“Don’t be fooled by his nice-guy act,” he says after a moment. “Clay is a manipulative bastard just like his stepsister, who ambushed me ten minutes ago.”

I lift my head. “Huh? Who’s his stepsister?”

His jaw clenches and releases. “Kendra.”

CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO

wilder

Fucking Kendra.

Evangeline probably thinks I was hiding out in the dark somewhere for the last hour of the party. I kind of was. But I was also watching her. The second I saw Clay heading toward her, I was moving in her direction. Which was when Kendra intercepted me.

I knew she was at the event, of course, having spotted her lurking toward the back of the crowd during Glow’s set. As the only person scowling instead of enjoying the music, she was hard to miss. Clay stood beside her. While he, at least, was bobbing his head to the music, seeing all his creepy focus centered on Evangeline set off alarm bells. No doubt he was there because Kendra wanted him to use him to drive a wedge between Evangeline and me.

That part of her plan, at least, backfired before it even unfolded. I may have a reputation as the least social party guest in history, but a life on the sidelines has made me observant as hell. Clay has a well-established type: tall brunettes who resemble his stepsister—fuckinggag—so I wasn’t worried about him hitting on Evangeline with any real intent. I was worried even less about Evangeline falling for his charming facade, not with the taste of her still in my throat and herI love yousfilling the cracks of my heart.

I was ready for Kendra when she slithered into my path. Now she regrets every moment of pseudo-intimacy between us, when chemically induced trust led her to show me her closet full of skeletons… among them the twisted bones of her relationship with her stepbrother and stepfather, as well as a graveyard full of their corrupt dealings. I let her say her piece, listened to all the usual threats wrapped in false affection, then made it clear if she ever goes through with anything, I’ll use it all—every last dirty secret she shared—to ruin the reputation of her family.

Throwing her past vulnerabilities in her face didn’t feel good, but it was necessary to quell her mistaken belief that she’s the only one with leverage in our fucked-up association.

Kendra may have the ability to ruin my life—she could tell the world I’m addicted to pain pills, break my family’s heart, throw a wrench in Night Theory’s success,anddestroy my chance of happiness with Evangeline—but I hold an equal power.

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