Page 33 of Dirty Crown
I couldn’t even imagine being that age, and I couldn’t imagine what my life would look like. I prayed I’d still have all four of my Kings, and I prayed that we were all still happy together.
I’d never thought a lot about children or whether I wanted them. I’d taken care of Nat for so long that it felt like I’d already been a mother at times. Maybe I could get a dog or a cat if I had the urge, I worried about the world and bringing a child into it might make it worse.
What if I couldn’t keep them safe from people like Ilya and Maksim? What if the Organization got their claws into my child? The thought of it was maddening.
I shook my head and scattered all my anxious thoughts into the wind as I sat at my mirror in my dressing room. I had an island in the middle of all my clothes where I would apply make up and do my hair.
I was so spoiled now compared to how I’d been living with Mom and Reg. Sometimes when I looked around at the nice things I had, I felt like it was still a dream. As if I’d wake up back in my old bedroom with my shabby second hand items bought with my babysitting money.
I finished my makeup and hair with some time to spare and took a moment to admire my work in the mirror. I’d gotten so good over the last couple of years, I could hardly recognize myself compared to the mousey girl I’d once been.
I shimmied into the dress, a red sparkling Chanel sheath with diamond straps, and listened to my Kings in other parts of the house.
I loved moments like this, where the place was quiet except for the muffled sounds of them horsing around, joking, wrestling, listening to music or playing video games.
Sometimes I felt like a den mother to the rowdiest pack of boys, and sometimes I felt like Tinkerbell with Peter Pan’s lost boys, eternally flitting about to care for their every need.
And that’s why it all worked so well. They cared for me and I cared for them. I had enough love and lust to spread around, never giving any one of them too much at the expense of the others. I always had a sense when one of them needed a little extra attention or something special done for them, but never to the detriment of my other Kings.
It was an intuitive gift, something I was proud of. My skills at managing our family were a source of great pride for me. It wasn’t something I could put on a resume, but I could hold it tight in my heart.
“Evie, are you almost finished?” Kingston called out as he walked into my room. He skidded to a halt when he saw me with my sharp cat eyes, red dress, and swept up hair with delicate curls framing my face. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
The way he said it was a declaration of love and approval. Everything that needed to be said about me.
“What’s taking so long?” Ryker grumbled as he joined us, but the moment he looked up he stopped next to Kingston and his jaw hung open. “Christ, what perfection.”
Archer and Valen came tumbling in together after them, their matching khakis and pressed white linen shirts looking like they stepped out of a fashion magazine.
They joined in with the others and looked at me with dazzled, overwhelmed expressions.
“I take it I look pretty good?” I asked, and wiggled my ass at them as I turned around with my hands out like I was a game show hostess. “Is this what you had in mind?”
“Perfection,” Archer nodded. “Absolute perfection.”
They all agreed, so we headed out to the car that was waiting for us. On nights we were going to drink, we always took a car service. It made sense.
It felt strange, though. I hadn’t felt much like going out since we got back, and especially with Seymour still missing. I was hyper aware of the face that so many would see my actions as uncaring or irresponsible. But I was also hyper aware that hiding out all the time would give off the appearance of shame.
And I had nothing to be ashamed of. Not my love, not Seymour, nothing at all. I wasn’t just proud of my relationship, but I was proud of everything I’d done in my life up to this point.
The driver pulled up in front of the Fincross’s Emerald Club, a high end club reserved for the elite among the elites. In this case, it meant business majors and their guests, most of the other departments didn’t have the kind of money the business kids did.
Kingston got out, held his hand for me and I stepped onto the sidewalk. I was immediately bombarded with people greeting my Kings with excited voices and I immediately felt like a third wheel. Or a fifth leg, I supposed.
“I think this is one of those times I’m glad I’m not a business major,” Ryker said, standing close to my side as we walked into the club. “It feels like a cult or something, all these people worshipping the all mighty dollar.”
“They’re just excited, they haven’t had time to host any decent events in the past year or so,” I said. “Let all the Chads and Tiffanys have their night.”
“I’ve never met a Tiffany that I liked,” I said, frowning in concentration. “That’s so weird, you know. Not a single one.”
“Same goes for Chad,” Ryker chuckled. “They’re all major douche bags with the most punchable faces.”
“I thought most people had punchable faces where you’re concerned,” I teased.
“Not in our little bubble, but outside of it? Yeah, I suppose so,” he smiled at me. He still had a little scar above his left eyebrow from one of the fights he’d been in back at Oakville. It would stay with him for life but it fave him character, it added to his bad boy aura.
“Well, let’s get this done,” I told him and we stepped through the doors into the dazzling ballroom where I was so glad I had worn my Chanel. Initially I’d been worried that I had overdressed, but once I saw how decked out everybody was, I felt a little under dressed. I didn’t have a real mink stole draped across my shoulders, for one. And I wasn’t clutching a fifty thousand dollar Birkin bag, for another.
