Page 22 of Volatile

“Give me a minute, you can sit with Gen.”

He hands me a glass of champagne as I take a seat in the booth then leaves without turning to look back.The snake slithers closer as I toy with the stem, making sure to spill as much as possible, and her voice is normal, kind.

“I’m sorry about my brother, he’s going through a breakup.”

Bile rises in my throat as I stick out my bottom lip, pretending to be sympathetic at her story to drag me in as she introduces herself.

“I’m Gen, what’s your name?”

The small talk would be friendly if I didn’t know her crimes and I force excitement into my voice as I look around the VIP area as though I’m enamored.

“Belle. It is so nice up here. The air even feels different.”

She nods and her demeanor changes as she looks over my shoulder. Coming back to me with a forced smile, she sips her drink and speaks around the crystal.

“You have a lot of admirers, Belle. He hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you.”

Every part of my body begs to be allowed to go on alert.It won’t be anyone who will break the image I’m trying to sell — they all think I’m a coke head anyway. I’m not close enough to swipe her phone and throw my head back laughing so I can see who’s ruining my plans. Internally I’m groaning and rolling my eyes at the sight of Vitali’s hard stare; I’m going to put a fucking bell on him to stop him randomly popping up.

I turn back to Genevieve and narrow my eyes as I lean closer without adjusting my volume.

“He’s kind of my boyfriend, I love him, but he has debts.”

I mouth the last part and the sick fuck lights up as her hand comes to my shoulder, attempting to be comforting. I flinch to get rid of the last remnants of spiked champagne in my flute and grab more napkins than necessary to dab at her clothes with an exaggerated apology.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m really clumsy and I’ll pay for it to be cleaned. Shit, I’ve got it. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do it.”

I stretch over the seat and manage to knock her phone on the floor with the commotion. It covers the act of me sliding it closer with my foot as I turn without bringing any of my limbs in, pushing a few glasses off the table for extra measure and do the same shit as I push her phone under my dress into the hidden pocket.

Bingo bitch, I’ve got what I came for.

I’m about to make an excuse to leave when her hand wraps around my forearm and she pulls me to sit. The faux friendliness is still in her voice as she says, “It’s fine, I never really liked this dress anyway.”

Once I’m seated, she can’t stop her eyes flicking to Vitali. I hate those sick fucking thoughts being directed at him. He’s good, happy, and light, and he doesn’t need to be tainted by the world, so I sway forward to stop her being able to examine him. If she looks at him again, I’m using one of the smashed flutes to slit her throat.

“Are you in danger, Belle?” she asks.

Yes, every second I spend next to you increases the risk.

I pick at the hem of my dress and push hurt into my voice as I mumble, “No. He loves me, and I love him. I just want to help him, you know?”

All I have to do is put myself in my fourteen-year-old mind to look torn and I turn my head with a sigh, locking on to Genevieve. I hate that I’m using him and tarnishing who he is as I continue lying.

“It won’t be forever; once he’s got the money from his friends it will just be the two of us again, like it was in the beginning.”

I’m a fraud and I hate myself even more because there are people whose reality I’m stealing.

When her hand moves towards the seat beside her, I push up and shoot her a smile.

“I should go before he gets angry. His friend is waiting.”

Please don’t be with one of your brothers.

I didn’t register who Vitali was with and if I have to throw myself at a married man I’ll die of shame. My heart is racing with adrenaline as I take clumsy, hurried steps and relief fills me at the sight of Zidane.He’s not married so at least I won’t have to use him, and he’s friendly enough that he won’t go crazy when I use him to project the image I need.

My body falls into his as I sit myself on his lap and reach behind me, grabbing Vitali’s head. Once his lips are close enough to mine and Genevieve can’t see them move, I grit, “Play. Along.”

My lips noisily smack against his but he doesn’t relax, and anger burns back at me. It intensifies as I pull myself up and Zidane looks like a kid on Christmas Day.

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