Page 36 of Empire

Why do I have to be such an idiot? Fuck. My father would be rolling in his grave right now.

Double-checking the invitation, I find the venue information and hit the gas. My hands shake the whole way there, but there’s no backing out now. It’s a ten-minute drive, and I quickly find a parking space before climbing out of my car. People linger outside, women in gorgeous gowns that look as though they’re worth more than I could make in a lifetime, their partners dressed in fancy five-piece suits, looking absolutely flawless.

Glancing down at my cheap rental gown, I’ve never felt more out of place, but I’m not here to fit in. Hell, I’m hoping I can slip through the door, find out what I need to know, then get out of there before anyone starts asking questions. If I happen to get out of there before any of my twisted neighbors see me, even better.

Gaping up at the magnificent building, my jaw drops. I’ve only driven through the city once and didn’t get a chance to see much, but this . . . this is incredible. I feel like I’ve been transported back in time. The architecture looks as though it was pulled out of a Jane Austen movie and it has me ready to play out my wildestPride and Prejudicefantasies. If only I actually believed any of the men inside this building were anything like Darcy.

Wanting to get this over and done with, I gather my confidence and try to remember that I have a set of steel balls, bigger than anyone who could show up here tonight. Okay, that might be a stretch. I have an attitude problem and a mouth that just seems to run no matter how bad the situation.

I make my way toward the grand entrance and keep my head down while clutching the invitation in my hand. There’s a security checkpoint, and I fall in line behind the other guests, nerves blasting through my system. I wasn’t expecting this. I was hoping I could just stride right through the front door and get lost among the other guests.

Security surrounds the building, and I wonder who the hell has been invited to this thing when I reach the front of the line. “Name,” the security guard asks.

“Oakley Quinn.”

His head shoots up, his brows furrowed as he looks me over, a strange curiosity in his eyes. “Quinn?” he questions.

I nod and he watches me a second longer before looking down at his clipboard, scanning through the list of names. “I’m not seeing your name on the list, Miss Quinn. Please move aside.”

He goes to look over my shoulder, preparing for the next guest, but I hold my ground. They’re not kicking me out that easily, not after all the effort I went through to get my hair to cooperate. I hold out the invitation, clearly with my name scrawled across the front. “I have a personal invitation,” I tell the guard before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you probably do, but someone inside that building wants me here tonight. I’m not leaving until I figure out why.”

The guard looks at me with a blank stare. “You’re the type to cause a scene if you get refused, aren’t you?”

A wide grin stretches across my face. I don’t need to respond; he knows damn well that I will.

Letting out a heavy breath, he waves me in and my grin turns into a genuine smile. “Thank you. It was a pleasure doing business with you,” I tell him, only to receive nothing but a blank stare in return, clearly lacking in the sarcasm department.

Hurrying in before he changes his mind, I come to a startling halt, finding a breathtaking ballroom before me. I stand up on the top level, a grand staircase leading down to the stunning ballroom below. It’s absolutely everything, fit for a queen on the most important nights of her life. The top level circles the whole room with arched balconies overlooking the ballroom below.

Chandeliers hang from the roof, filling the room with the brightest lights—a perfect contrast to the dark, intricate designs across the marble floor. High-arched windows line the walls, showcasing gorgeous gardens decorated with breathtaking fairy lights with the cityscape in the background, and I realize that despite everything, tonight might just be one of those magical nights I’ll never have the luxury to experience again.

Despite my desperation to have my grand Cinderella entrance moment, I slip straight past the elaborate staircase and around the top level of the ballroom, overlooking the crowd below. There are people everywhere, and as I scan over the faces of the guests below, I realize there are more than just a few familiar ones.

Politicians, council workers, and the chief of police. Hell, even the local hospital administrator has a champagne glass in hand as he mingles with the crowd. Many of these faces I’ve seen splashed over the front of magazines and newspapers, boasting about their accomplishments in the community. Most of them have pockets lined with gold and silver, more cash than they know what to do with, and I can’t help but feel this isn’t a good thing. These are prominent figures of the Faders Bay community, the type of men who shouldn’t have anything to do with the likes of Zade and his friends.

As if on cue, my gaze sails over the four boys, and my stomach all but drops out of my ass.

Good Lord, take the wheel.

These men. Holy shit. It was one thing seeing them in my apartment complex, stalking me like the creepy fucktards they are, but in their five-piece suits, looking sharper than ever before . . . I’m a goner. They’re channeling David Beckham at the royal wedding, only in different shades, their jaws nearly as sharp as their suits.

My knees shake and my core clenches. This isn’t fair. How am I supposed to concentrate on getting answers when they look like that? The only thing keeping me from making a fool of myself is the knowledge that these aren’t the kind of guys I should be screwing with. Only then, Dalton turns around—holy fuck. Why does he have to be such an asshole? The way he looks tonight, damn. I’m ready for round two, though I will never give him the satisfaction.

I wonder if I could somehow trick him into taking a mold of his dick . . . you know, for scientific reasons of course.

Wanting to get this over and done with, I make my way around the top level before discreetly skimming down the far stairs and moving into the crowd. I keep my head down, but as I make my way through the ballroom, I can’t help but feel the stares of the people around me.

I glance up and meet their curious gazes, some looking at me as though there’s something familiar about me, something they can’t put their finger on, while others watch me with sneers of disgust, knowing I don’t belong. Either way, I don’t like it.

Shuffling past them, I keep my eye on the prize. The boys are over toward the far corner, near one of the many bars, and wanting to be as discreet about this as possible, I slip deeper into the crowd, doing what I can to keep my head down.

Moving toward the edge of the room, I try to listen in on as many conversations as I can, but for the most part, it’s just old men boasting about what kind of pull they have or the sneaky, under-the-table deals they were able to push through. Nothing jumps out at me, though one thing is clear. These upstanding men of the community, the very men who are supposed to look out for the health and wellbeing of the people around them, are nothing but frauds. It’s all a front, a room full of powerful people who are able to make things happen for those around them.

Trying not to let the disgust show on my face, I finally reach the boys, doing what I can to keep my distance. I turn my back as I shuffle toward the bar and scoop a glass of champagne off the waitress’ tray before she takes off with it.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I sip on what can only be described as pure liquid gold as I discreetly turn my head, listening to the boys’ conversation behind me.

“This is our fucking chance,” Zade seethes, his voice shifting as though he’s scanning the room. “Keep your eyes open. Every conversation that goes down tonight, I want to know about. We got nothing at the compound, and I’m not about to let these fuckers get away with it again.”

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