Aberration (14 page)

"Take a picture, it will last longer."

Cam chortles behind me, but Jaime doesn't bother with a reaction. He only says, "You're the one who takes the photos."

Micah guides me outside. Mom and Dad always get a limo for benefit dinners considering how abundant the wine and champagne is at events, and this time is no different, except there are two waiting for us. Me, Micah, Ava, Jaime, and Cam slide into the second limo. I realize how often I'll be needing to check my dress to make sure my ass isn't hanging out.

Since Micah and I are the last to climb in, we end up having to sit across from each other, meaning that my seat is right next to Jaime. I plop down without realizing that his hand is where I'm sitting. Palm facing up.

I nearly jump up, but choose to hold myself together. He squeezes my right ass cheek.

No one in the limo is acting like they know where his hand is. Micah's busy with a champagne bottle. Cam is unscrewing his flask.

Jaime slides his hand down further. His fingertips brush against the crotch of my panties. Goddamn this short dress.

He pulls out his phone with his free hand like he isn't currently occupied with feeling me up.

My clutch buzzes.

I slide my phone from my purse and read the message.

Lace underwear... preparing for a special night?

Jaime starts typing on his phone again. A new message pops up.

You're already wet. I can feel it.

He wiggles his fingers beneath me. I choke on my own groan before he pulls his hand from my seat and rests it in his lap.

I type out my message to him.
There's only one reason I'm wet, and only one person that I wore this dress for
.

This is going to be a good, long night.

"You show a bit of skin and both your parents pop Xanax's," Micah whispers to me at the table during the first course. I turn just enough so the cuff of my ear brushes his nose. We're sharing a table with my mom and dad and his dad, so now is most certainly the best time to be flirty.

I giggle like he told me a joke. "Don't make fun of them. I wore only t-shirts and turtlenecks before I left for college."

I watch my parents from the other side of the table. They're both in hushed conversation, pushing the food around their plates. Mom keeps glancing at me. No, not glancing. Glaring.

Something tells me they're concerned with more than just my cleavage.

I flag down the nearest waiter. When he bends forward to take my order, I say, "A double, please."

"A double of what beverage, Miss?"

"A double something. A double anything."

The waiter takes off to grab me my drink, and I avoid my parents and Micah by studying the pompous, bullshit atmosphere of the ballroom. Gaudy chandeliers hang from the marble ceiling, draped thickly in crystal. The room is even surrounded in pillars. Fucking pillars
—
like, really.

But the room is nothing compared to the people. CEOs, heirs
,
and heiresses. These are my family's people.

My dad makes more money a day than most families see in a quarter of a year, but when I was in high school, I felt like we were another functioning, middle-class family. We fought, be bantered, we had rules, we loved each other. Cam and I came from wealth, but for the most part, we didn't let that get to our heads.

But these people seem fake. They look fake. Then again, I went to public school and never actually bonded with rich bitches, so I'm probably judging. I'm good at that.

Most of the ladies and gentlemen at the benefit dinner are over fifty
—
my parents
’
age
—
talking gently at the tables and holding crystal goblets filled with champagne. My eyes flicker over to Jaime and Ava who stand by the bar. They don't have to get their own drinks, considering there are waiters in tuxedos every two feet, but they chose to. Like they wanted to get away from our table.

Deep in an apparently-amusing conversation, Ava sidles up to Jaime, coy smile playing on her lips. She's totally into him, which I guess isn't a shocker because he's hot and she's hot and them both being here means they're connected to money.

Benefit dinners are how babies are made, folks.

I'm oddly numb about watching them talk. I mean, it'd be one thing if we were actually together, if I wasn't his boss, if we weren't practically brother and sister, if I wasn't on a fake date with another man. All
these things so blatantly wrong with me and Jaime. Maybe this is a good thing, to watch Jaime's date unfold, Ava Jennings sweeping in and saving the day. The realization will dawn on him that he's young and hot and doesn't want to start a relationship with some gawky, mouthy pornography photographer whose family will murder him if they found out the truth
,
and who, honest to god, looks fucking ridiculous in this dress.

Jaime laughs at something Ava tells him and grabs two drinks from the counter top, both of them clear liquid and garnished with a lime. He begins to walk back to the table as Ava heads to the bathroom.

I blink and focus back on my plate, and then glance at Cam, who's staring at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Steak's good," I say, jabbing the hunk of meat with my fork and sawing off a slice. I make my movements dramatic, like I'm tearing through grizzle, when in reality the steak cuts just like butter.

"That's because it's a hundred and fifty dollar steak," says Cam.

Before Jaime's at the table, I mutter, "Be right back," to Micah.

I stand from my seat and wobble across the marble floor, making a mental note to kick off my heels the second I'm back in the ballroom-slash-dining hall. Doing so would probably be a disgrace to my family or something, considering how fancy this event is, but my cleavage is a disgrace to my family too so I’m already under the water
.

The clack of my stilettos echoes in the bathroom. Someone clears their throat from one of the stalls, and it's a dainty enough voice for me to assume that it's Ava's. I hurry into a stall and wrangle with my stupid clingy dress until I'm able to pee. When I hear her toilet flush, I hurry, exiting my stall the same time she exits hers.

I don't really know what I'm doing. Sizing her up? Maybe. I try to act cool and totally nonchalant as I shove my hands beneath the automatic faucet.

"So, Britain McCulley."

She says my name so slow that it's almost musical, and when I look at her through the mirror, she tosses me a wry smile. Good god, the girl is hot. And I'm not ashamed to admit it either. She flips her hair back and says. "Jaime is cute, don't you think?"

She surprises me, and I end up glaring at her. Why is she bringing Jaime up? Does she know? Did he tell her? I try to play it off with a shrug. "We've been friends forever."

"I remember when I saw him at these things back in high school."

My hands freeze around the freshly laundered towel I'm using to dry off
.
Jaime never went to these dinners when he was a kid. Why would he? He wasn't a part of the company yet, and he was one of the worst behaved teenagers ever.

She sees my confusion and continues. "There were a couple of times when Cameron snuck me
outside and Jaime was waiting with a bottle of J
ä
ger, or flavored vodka." She giggles. "Or another one of those horribly sweet bottles of booze."

I can't help but smile. "That doesn't surprise me one bit."

"You were too young then."

At first, I think she's making a jab at me, but her eyes are soft and playful. She spins on her heel and struts to the makeup mirrors on the wall.

"You've grown up since then." She snaps open her clutch and pulls out her lipstick. "A little bird told me you were doing pretty well in the photography industry."

I clench my jaw.

She rolls the lipstick over her bottom lip. "I may or may not have been a subscriber."

I'm going to try and not let this go to my head, but the fact that one of the most gorgeous heiresses ever was an
East Park Exposed
subscriber is a little outrageous. "I'm working on novellas now. Storybooks with photographs."

"They doing well?" she asks nonchalantly.

"They haven't released yet, but my team is... optimistic."

I watch her give her reflection a dreamy smile as she caps her lipstick. "I
’
ve always wondered what it was like to have the confidence to model for a magazine like that. To not be afraid to show the whole world your body and your sexuality."

I lean against the bathroom wall and cross my arms over my chest. I have to be dreaming right now. "The position's always open." Wow. Really
,
Britain? What an awkward fucking thing to say.

She laughs and slips her lipstick back into her clutch. "Couldn't. Daddy's company is partially riding on my good behavior. You know how it is."

Our eyes meet in the mirror. Hers widen. "They don't know?"

"If they do, they haven't said anything."

"Wow," she whispers. She’s staring at me like I'm made of solid gold. "You're brave. Keep it up."

She struts past me, leaving me dumbfounded in the bathroom.

When I leave, I keep the promise I made to myself and take off my heels. Luckily, Mom and Dad are off in a cocktail corner with some important-looking people and Cam is drunkenly shmoozing up to someone's wife. The dinner plates have been swept away. Some people are dancing now, including Ava and Jaime. He must have swept her up right when she left the bathroom.

A waiter stands by my table with my drink, condensation sliding down the edges of the glass. I mutter a thanks and take it from him, taking a huge gulp immediately. Vodka tonic. How boring and
white girl.
My fault. I didn't specify.

I finish the drink in thirty seconds flat. When I set the glass on the table, I look around to see if I can
spot my date before realizing he's chatting up my parents.

I catch Jaime's eyes over Ava's shoulder.

I look around for a waiter to get me another drink, but the chamber orchestra ends their song. Jaime separates from Ava and makes his way back to the table, sitting down in the seat in front of me.

I plop down next to him. "Ava is so cool, you know."

He chuckles. "So
that's
what you were doing in the bathroom. And here I was thinking that business called."

I glare at him. "There were no sexual shenanigans taking place in the bathroom, okay?"

He shrugs. "I wouldn't blame you."

"She's hot."

"Pretty hot. I like that you're the kind of person who isn't afraid to admit that."

"I like that you're the kind of person who isn't afraid to agree with me," I say.

He smiles crookedly. "I'd rather be honest with you."

I raise an eyebrow. "You weren't so honest with me back in Boston."

"And I learned my lesson," he counters quickly. "Keeping secrets... hiding the truth from you wasn't exactly easy. You'd probably hate me forever if I told you upfront that your father fired me for stealing."

"You're right, I probably would have. But that doesn't mean it was ok."

He shakes his head. "It wasn't okay. Remember the string of tampons outside your bedroom window? I resort to childish shit to get your attention." His dark eyes are practically glittering with amusement. He looks over to the ballroom floor before I can say anything in return, and takes my hand. "Dance with me."

I guffaw. "I can't dance," I say, which is a lie in itself. Mom taught me how to dance properly at these events when I was thirteen, because the young heirs of rich men were cultured and well-behaved and would want to dance with me. They weren't cultured or well-behaved. They spent the whole time with their hands on my ass, stepping on my toes and whispering to me about the coke they had stashed in the bathroom.

"Well you're in luck, because neither can I." He grins. "We'll look like fools together."

"I'm not wearing shoes."

"I won't step on your feet."

I scoff. "You can't dance and you won't step on my feet. Unlikely. Plus, what will Ava think?"

"She already knows how badly I want you."

A shiver runs down my spine, but before I can say anything, he adds, "Don't be a poor sport." He tugs on my arm and I give in, padding barefoot after him in my slutty dress to the floor filled with important men and women in the
most
expensive ballroom attire. Jaime's tie is gone and his collar is popped. I can feel a bobby pin coming loose somewhere on top of my head.

"We fit right in," he says, and I fake a laugh that sounds all too nervous. I catch my parents eyeing me from the cocktail corner. Even Cam has pulled his eyes away from his hot cougar to watch us.

His hand slinks across my back, resting high against my bare spine. I can't decide whether or not wearing a backless dress was a mistake
—
I'm about to melt like butter just at the feel of his bare skin against mine. In half a second, all of the hot, delicious things he could do with those hands flash through my mind.