VANESSA BELMONT
Annabeth yelped, grabbed the long, glittering skirt of her haute couture dress, and ran away.
Oliver and I stared as she disappeared into the crowd.
"Did we say something wrong?" asked Ollie.
"Probably," I answered.
"Excuse me."
Ollie and I turned and looked up, up, up into the cold, expressionless, most gorgeous male face ever produced by the creator deities. We both gulped.
"Mr. Thorne," said Ollie, his voice cracking. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Mister Thorne. How many we help you?"
"What are you, the salesgirl at the mall?" I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
"Shut up or die," Ollie whispered back.
"The young lady you were speaking to a moment ago," said Mr. Thorne in a deep, resonant voice. "Where did she go?"
Ollie and I pointed in the direction where Annabeth Saint had fled. Devon Thorne nodded his thanks and strode away, his two bodyguards following closely.
After the Money God of Ash City was out of range, Ollie and I both released relieved breaths.
"He is so hot," said Ollie.
"The hottest," I replied.
"You're not allowed to think about other men," said Nathan, curling his arm around my shoulders.
"Why are you here?" I asked, completely, totally—okay not-at-all—ignoring the flutters in my stomach. Knock it off, body. We don't like Nathan, remember?
"It's our engagement party. Dinner will be served soon."
"Where's your sweet wittle Fiona?"
"Malone took her to rest." Nathan shook his head. "Neenie, she's not my sweet wittle Fiona."
"Whatever." I pushed his arm off my shoulder. "Are you really going to exchange rings with me? For money?"
"For family interests," replied Nathan. "Which you've not only agreed to, but signed the paperwork."
That was when I thought I could build a future with you. I grabbed a glass of wine and downed half of it.
"You two should have a chat," said Ollie. Was it me, or did he look particularly vengeful? "I have something to do, so I'll leave first."
"Oliver Benton King," I whisper-yelled. "Don't you dare!"
Ollie wiggled his fingers and said, "Good-bye." I sent him a death glare, but his mischievous gaze said payback is a bitch, and then he turned his back on me and walked away.
"Just kidding," said Ollie, returning quickly and grabbing me by the arm. "Unlike some people, I'm loyal to a fault. I wouldn't abandon you, Neenie." Ollie smiled at Nathan. "We'll leave first."
"Wait a min—"
"Brother Nathan," said Fiona as she grasped Nathan's arm. "Did you miss me?"
I glanced at Nathan who stared at me. I lifted my eyebrows as if to say, "See what your white moonlight did there?"
"Okay," said Ollie, dragging me away. "By-eeeeee."
As soon as we got out of earshot, I told Ollie, "You have to do something to prevent the ring exchange."
We reached the dining area and sat down at the table nearest to the stage.
"Shenanigans already?" asked Ollie. "I'm in!" He looked around. "Where did your fiance go?"
I rolled my eyes. "Fiona probably has a hangnail." Nathan was a blind, stubborn, cute ... no, not cute ... ugly moronic troll.
"Are you cursing me in your heart?" asked Nathan as he sat next to me. Fiona took the seat next to him. The fifth chair remained empty until some string-bean kid plopped into it.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Kevin Jang."
"Who the hell is Kevin Jang?" I asked Nathan.
He shrugged. "The Jangs are a big family. I'm still not sure who everyone is."
Kevin grabbed the bread basket and asked, "Is this gluten-free?"
"I doubt it," answered Ollie. "It's not actually considered bread without the gluten."
"Well, that sucks," said Kevin. "I'm allergic to gluten." He immediately picked up a bread roll.
"Are you gonna die if you eat that?" asked Ollie.
"Maybe," said Kevin.
Okay, cool. My circle of hell was complete.
The dinner was a formal, multi-course affair, which meant we had to sit through endless servings of tiny food on tiny plates.
"Who planned this dinner?" muttered Nathan as he stuck his fork into a quarter-sized steak piece.
"Your mother," I said sweetly.
"Oh."
Kevin's big concern of gluten-free food, which did not stop him from consuming an alarming amount of bread, was soon overshadowed by his dairy allergy.
"It's a fucking cheesecake sliver, Kevin," said Ollie after another Kevin lamentation about milk-centric desserts. "It's all dairy, okay?"
I drank a lot of wine while pretending I wasn't seconds away from flipping the table over. Every time Fiona found a way to get Nathan's attention—my least favorite was how she coyly tugged on his jacket—I felt a bullet of anger pierce my chest.
I looked at Ollie and raised my brows. Shenanigans, I mouthed. He nodded.
"Excuse me," he said. "I need to use the restroom."
Two minutes later, the fire alarm wailed. Ollie sprinted to our table and bellowed, "FIRE! EVERYONE PANIC! ESPECIALLY FIONA!"
The ballroom erupted into chaos. Socialites screamed, waiters dropped trays, Kevin stopped eating bread, and Fiona grabbed my fiance's arm and said breathlessly, "We're going to die!"
Then she fainted.
Because of course she did.
Nathan barely caught her, and I have to admit, I was rooting for her to hit the floor hard enough to leave bruises. What can I say? Sometimes, I'm not a good person.
"Oh, no!" I shouted, standing up. "We should definitely evacuate! Separately! Far away from each other!"
Nathan, who was trying to hold a limp Fiona upright, narrowed his gaze. "Vanessa..."
"What?"
"Did you and Oliver—"
"Save the champagne!" Ollie grabbed three bottles off a nearby serving cart. He shoved one into my free hand. "Priorities, people!"
I watched as Nathan scooped Fiona into his arms, and felt the ache in my chest expand until it nearly suffocated me. I really hated how well he took care of that green tea bitch.
Ollie and I followed Nathan, whose stature and long strides parted the sea of people struggling toward the exits.
"What happened to Kevin?" asked Ollie.
"I dunno," I said. "But he ran away with the bread basket."