Playing for keeps

32. Pink Macaroon

E A S T O N

Every person in this room has a gun. That is what Damien had told me during the drive here. He also told me to stay close by, warned me to.

I proceeded to ask him why he brought me in the first place, but he only muttered something about keeping me close. I wasn't complaining, though. It gave me an excuse to dress fancy, to have my hair and makeup done in a salon Natalie invited me to earlier today.

My dress was a blue-grey tulle material, not quite reaching the floor, and sparkled. The sweetheart neckline showed my tan chest, a small silver heart necklace in place. The dress didn't have sleeves but stayed in place from the bow tied on top of my shoulders. 

Although I felt fancy like a princess, the ballroom was fancier, like something from those old romance classics. Decorated from another century, filled with string quartet music and flowing ball gowns.

I was glad my brothers brought me but nervous. This wasn't my crowd, it was theirs. Their crowd from that secret, dark underground part of the city filled with blood and violence. It prompted a shiver through me, goosebumps spreading on my bare arms as I scanned each face we passed. Some sporting face scars, vicious people, a snake hidden beneath those polite smiles. 

It dawns on me that most, if not all, of the people in this room have killed someone. It's what their businesses are built on.

My gaze sweeps over my brothers beside me, to Damien in front, Seb with his arm looped through mine. Their business is built on blood. Murder. I knew that, but being in this room with all these people makes it real, makes who they are true.

Stop it, Easton. You're overthinking the situation again.

Seb catches my eye, giving me an easy smile before stopping to talk to someone he knows, an older man with grey hair, a scar on his jaw, and a cigar in his mouth.

I stay rooted to Seb's side having lost sight of Damien and Zach. So I sweep my gaze over the room once more, admiring the waiters with gold trays of tiny finger food, the oil paintings hung on the wall, and the melody of the violins. 

My stomach whirls when I land on one specific pair of eyes. Dark blue, almost black, and rich with an intimidating stare that would turn people the other way, but it just makes my heart beat faster, losing sight of my surroundings.

Kaleb stands on the other side of the room and I take a moment to admire his all-black suit. The black shirt and jacket hug him perfectly to highlight the bulk in his biceps, his shirt tucked into black dress pants that show off his perfectly thick things. The memory of sitting on those thighs in his car makes the room feel a little more heated than it was a few moments ago.

He's looking at me with that same heated look and I have to look away before I melt into a puddle of desire on the floor right here.

I would have to be careful tonight. How I look at Kaleb, refraining from kissing those perfect lips and standing close enough to inhale his intoxicating scent of leather and burning wood. My brothers are annoyingly observant, especially Seb.

Maybe I could slip out of the room and Kaleb would follow. I wouldn't put it past him. I felt his burning stare as soon as I walked into the room, but I was afraid that if I looked in his direction I wouldn't be able to contain myself from going to him.

Our moment of staring at each other is interrupted when a guy, around Kaleb's age, approaches and starts talking to him. Even immersed in conversation I can feel one of his eyes on me.

I spot a table of desserts in the corner, and I perk up a little, needing to get a picture of it for Oakley. The table was filled with colorful macaroons, chocolate cake, a chocolate fountain, chocolate-covered strawberries and so much more that sparked my excitement.