Page 4 of Summoned
“There! There he is!” She points to the circular bar surrounding the dance floor. “Next to the big column by the DJ booth!”
He’s easy to spot. Even sitting, he stands out, taller than the others at the bar. His hair, longer at the top, swept back carelessly, is far too light and trendy, and his face is much too perfect for my taste. But, all things considered, he’s one of Boyana’s better choices.
“Not bad,” I say over the pounding music.
Boyana bites down on her hyaluronic-plumped lips. “He seems more mature, doesn’t he?”
“Girls, this party is insane!” Marie wedges herselfbetween us, vibrating with excitement. “What are you staring at?”
“Boyana’s found her next victim,” I shout over the music, jabbing a thumb toward the dance floor.
Marie’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Oh, no! Again? That would be the second time today, right?”
“I thought we were already on the third?” I arch an eyebrow.
Boyana raises her champagne flute with dramatic flair, spilling a bit of the golden liquid over the deep plunge of her neckline. “Excuse me, I haven’t been with anyone since Antonio.” She nods toward her ex at the far end of the VIP booth.
Antonio and his rowdy gang of degenerates are holding a contest to see who can slip a banknote into the most risqué part of a dancer’s outfit. Our playboy friend—whose only goal in life is to burn through his widowed billionaire mom’s fortune—was yet another of Boyana’s misfired love arrows.
“Pretty sure he’s still into you,” Misha murmurs, her tone just a bit too smooth.
Boyana’s playful pout gives way to a scowl. “He ditched me for some college brat with freckles and a nose ring. Soprehistoric. Like, evolve already.”
I chuckle. Boyana might not have the social status of the twins or me, but she’s rich enough, and her attempts to sound smart by misusing big words never fail to entertain me.
“If I were you”—Misha leans in, tapping her glass against Boyana’s with a mischievous clink—”I’d give him another chance.”
Boyana twirls a lock of her hair absentmindedly, her attention drifting over my shoulder, scanning for Antonio. “You think?”
“He told Ekaterina you were stunning tonight.” Sipping her drink, Marie feigns nonchalance, but her game is more than obvious.
I nudge her shoulder hard enough to jolt her off course. “She’snotcrawling back to that idiot.”
The twins back off, exchanging glances. They view Boyana beneath thembecause of her lower financial status. It makes her an easy target, their favorite excuse for so-called innocent jokes. Not tonight, though. Her vulnerability, born of a situation she didn’t choose, stirs something in me. I’ve been there. I’ve been her—different context, same humiliation. No one protected me.
“A toast to the Little Baroness!” the DJ roars.
The air presses against me. My pulse pounds against my ribcage like a trapped animal. The feeling of being watched—of being stalked—returns stronger than before. This time, an invisible threat slides over my skin, stripping away every layer of my being. The twins retreat to the booth. Boyana, meanwhile, begins dancing in that provocative way that makes the timid blush.
I inhale and steady myself. A heavy, sweet scent fills my lungs: vanilla with a sharp metallic edge. It invades my nose, my mouth, and burrows deep into my brain.
“I lost him, Nicole!” Boyana’s voice cuts through my haze.
She’s talking about the man at the bar…
An arm snakes around my waist from behind. I jerk away, struggling. My heartbeat drowns out all other sounds.
I’m not prey.
I’m not—
A burst of drunken, slurred laughter. I spin on my heel and come face to face with Antonio’s spirits-glazed eyes.He’s too close, murmuring unintelligible words, his breath reeking of alcohol.
“Get lost!” I shove him.
Damn it.
I need fresh air.
