Page 38 of Eternal
So, it’s no surprise that the Bratva’s ballroom is decorated in whites and blacks tonight. Precisely arranged and utterly perfected by my favorite blonde.
“If I catch anyone messing with the bouquets I placed on every table, I’ll kill them,” she mutters as we step inside.
I glance at her and grin. “You’re ridiculous.”
She smirks, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “I’m not joking.” And I don’t doubt for a second that she means it.
And she’s not wrong, she’s my best friend for a reason. Who else would lose sleep over centerpieces and still look ready to start a war over them?
“I’ll help you,” I replied.
She knows I’m dead serious when I say it, I’ll help her kill them if it comes to that.
She turns to me, her lips curling into a small, tense smile. Worry flickers in her eyes, but she hides it well. “I hope it’s good enough,” she says softly.
Without thinking, her hands move up, tucking a few loose strands of my hair back into place. Her fingers are steady contrasting the nerves I can see peeking through.
I’ve learned to read my best friend like an open book. I know the way her jaw tightens when she’s overwhelmed or how she smooths over her emotions to keep things together. So, I offer her the only thing I can in return. Words,sincerewords.
“It’s perfect,” I say gently. “You always make itperfect. If someone says otherwise, I’ll strangle them.”
Her shoulders drop, slightly, and for a moment, the fire in her melts into something softer. She tilts her head, holding my arm as we walk forward. “I know, it’s just… I want to makehimproud.”
A pang hits me when I look at her.
Kat is stunning tonight. Long blonde hair cascading like silk over her shoulders, her green eyes alight with that warm affection in them. In that soft white dress, falling barely above her knees, she looks like something out of a dream; pure, angelic, untouchable.
I’m her complete opposite.
My dress is black, flowing to the floor and swallowing the light. Kat insisted on straightening my hair, and now it falls longer than I’m used to, brushing against my back. It feels strange. Too soft, too neat. But I don’t hate it.
Still, I look nothing like her.
I’m the dark to her light, the demon to her angel.
And maybe that’s why I find her so breathtaking.
But it hurts to see her like this, so poised and radiant, but still feeling like she has something to prove. She doesn’t deserve that, she shouldn’t have to fight for validation.
Not from her father, not from anyone.
And yet here she is, carrying it all with grace.
“Hey,” I say, nudging her gently, “you’re makingmeproud, and I’m not even the one you’re trying to impress. Stop worrying. You’re too pretty to be stressing out like this. Smile, and do what you do best, scare everyone else to death.”
She laughs, some of the tension fading from her eyes. The green is finally brighter than when worry ate the beauty in them.
I hope that one day she won’t feel the need to impress anyone but herself.
People are already drunk when we walk through the estate. Some laugh with abandon, while others wear their misery openly on their tired faces. Furrowed brows, haunted eyes, like they already know how badly their lives will end.
There’s no point hiding it; everyone here knows how sin seeps into their drinks, their clothes, their skin, their very souls.
I can tell some of them escaped death only moments ago, maybe even on their way here, clutching champagne glasses as if that could wash away their past and anxiety.
Vegas is a beautiful city. Lust and extravagance intertwined in the most peculiar ways.
It has its charm, though.
