Page 59 of This Ravenous Fate
The realization knocked every ounce of heated affection she had just felt toward Layla out of her system. “Youcannotbe serious,” Elise hissed.
Layla and Jamie Kelly stood before her with devious smiles on their faces. They looked like an odd match. Jamie was well over six feet, his posture relaxed with his hands in his pockets, while Layla’s height barely passed five feet and her shoulders were as rigid as her jaw was sharp.
“Is there a problem?” Layla asked.
Elise tried to step toward her, but Sterling gripped her arm, holding her in place. “You brought a gangster to a political fundraiser?” she hissed.
Layla glanced up at Jamie, whose grin widened. She looked back at Elise. “Sure. What are they going to do? Kill me?” Layla flashed her fangs, and something hot buzzed up Elise’s spine at the sight.
For a moment, Elise went completely speechless. Her eyes lingered on Layla, trying to dissect the pretty package this devil had come in. The red dress no longer held a powerful spark over her; the moment Layla opened her mouth, her damn attitude ruined any impassioned feelings.
“The funny thing is your father invited me, Saint. I supplied for most of this party. He might be more crooked than you realize,” Jamie said in a humor-filled voice. He draped an arm across Layla’sshoulders and even with the mask covering most of her face, Elise saw irritation pass over her expression. But she didn’t shake Jamie off.
A bitter taste filled Elise’s mouth just watching them. She turned in to Sterling’s arms and ground out, “Let’s go inside.”
***
The inside of the mansion was just as bright and festive as Layla imagined it would be. The ballroom held most of the party, where people danced and mingled, but Layla saw guests hanging on the nearby spiral staircase and sneaking through the various doors around the massive house. It was rumored to be owned by a millionaire who didn’t even live there, only used it for galas and lent it out to members of high society. The room opened up into a kaleidoscope of color and chaos. Brilliant lanterns hung down from the tall ceilings or were strung along the railing of the grand staircase that led to the main party floor. Tinsel and festoons streamed from everywhere. Layla had only been inside for a few minutes, but already, a piece of shiny foil from the decor clung to her jaw. The entire atmosphere was a warm, golden glow of excitement that had people downing drinks until their eyes shone with the light of the stars, but the most alluring part of the party was the music.
Some danced, drinks in hand; socialites gossiped behind feathered fans, eyes alight with the thrill of exchanging expensive secrets. Heiresses shrugged in lengthy fur coats while they waved diamond-clad hands in each other’s faces and compared the sizesof the fortunes they were destined to inherit. Governors stood by gangsters, ashes from their cigars dusting into their liquor. Smiles were shared and euphoria spread like smoke through the crowd. A proud trumpeter stood on the stage in the center of the room. His vocalists moved around him, skirts glimmering under the lights, voices booming and glorious while they led the band in summertime music.
Layla almost forgot she was there to do a job when the band began to play. So badly, she wanted to lift her skirt and spin around and around until the room became a wild blur of dazzling colors. It had been ages since she was surrounded by such soulful music.
Jamie put his hand on her back. “I’m getting us drinks. So we blend in,” he said loudly over the music and winked.
“I’ll come.” Anything to put distance between her and the Saint heiress.
Out in the courtyard, Layla had done her best to hide her visceral reaction to seeing Elise done up and dressed to rival the exquisiteness of the moon. There were a thousand lights taking up the sky tonight, and Layla was convinced they all shined for Elise. She couldn’t believe how instantly her senses had picked up on Elise’s presence. Even before turning the corner, she’d smelled her blood. Layla had made sure to feed so as not to have any mishaps tonight, but Elise was overpowering, like a deafening roar that buzzed all the way through her body.
Layla’s teeth sank into her cheeks. Her fangs pierced the soft flesh until blood spilled into her mouth. The calming effect wasimmediate, but not nearly enough to subdue the tension that Elise roused in Layla.
While waiting for Jamie to pour their drinks, Layla found herself watching Elise on the dance floor. Her arms were around Sterling’s shoulders, his hands on her hips, and they swayed to the patient beats of the music. Each time Sterling said something that made Elise smile, a bitterness rose in her throat. That used to be Layla, sharing jokes and being spoken to in hushed voices and teasing tones. That used to be Layla, who had a pretty girl smiling at her jokes and telling her that she loved her more than the moon loved the stars.
That used to be Layla, who was Elise’s best friend. The hollow pang of loss rang through her again. Layla was beginning to think it would never go away.
How long could she live with pain chasing her everywhere she went? How long could she outrun it for?
“A drink for my lady.” Jamie pressed a cool glass filled with a clear liquid into her hand.
Layla took one sip and sighed. The liquor went down roughly, but she welcomed the burn. Any distraction to keep her from circling the same Elise-shaped thoughts. “Not a single bit of irony has escaped me at the fact that we are at a political fundraiser to which gangsters were invited and alcohol is being served. There is truly no grace in this world.”
“Politicians claim to hate us because we break their laws, but they hire us to break their laws. They are so dumb.” He chuckled. “We’re just doing our jobs. And we have them wrapped around our fingers.Alcohol is a powerful drug, and everyone here is crooked because of it.” Jamie raised his glass.
Layla lifted a brow, thinking of just how cruel white people could be to Black people justexisting. “Among other things.”
“Everyone here is crooked. No matter how rich and powerful,” Jamie said.
“The more money, the less morals,” Layla muttered.
“Imagine the number of writers who came just to spin a story out of the corruption they find here,” Jamie said. His eyes flitted around the room and Layla followed him, spotting a young Black woman with a dark hat and full lips wearing a smile by the bar. Her silver pen hovered over a blank page. “There’s one,” Jamie muttered. He sipped slowly on what Layla assumed was a whiskey, by the way the dark liquid sloshed around in his glass. “I thought you were supposed to be here for a purpose. Why is the Saint girl canoodling and dancing?”
Layla resisted the urge to look back at Elise. She continued to stare hard at Jamie while she spoke. “It’s not so simple. Hownormalwould it look if we were just marching between a crowd of dancing people while we searched high and low for anything suspicious?” Layla asked.
It wasn’t a question that warranted an actual answer, but Jamie, being the insufferable man he was, answered it anyway. “I have been to parties where it is completely normal for couples to end up on the floor.” He looked around, face alight with wonder. “Clearly, this party is not one of those.”
“I don’t know, Jamie. Maybe you should get on the floor and findout,” Layla teased.
Jamie leaned down so he was eye to eye with her. “Only if you do it with me—”
