Unhinged (7 page)

I took a long swallow
of beer as I stared at the ceiling. I hadn’t told Leif or Toby about the dream
I’d had. The one that ended with the Camaro in a fireball with me trapped
inside. I didn’t think that was a subject anyone would want to talk about, so
I’d kept it to myself.

Did it freak me out
that I might die in one of the street races where there were no rules?

Sure.

Did I care?

No, not really.

I’d never had a reason
to.

Payton

“Girl, we better get a
move on,” Aaron yelled from the living room.

I was standing in front
of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, my eyes glued to the woman staring
back at me. I recognized my dark hair, my dimpled chin, and my high cheekbones,
but that was about it.

I looked… different.

Good different, but
still different.

It was hard to believe
that was me staring back from the glass, but the longer I stood there, the more
I convinced myself that it was.

My hair was piled into
some intricate design on top of my head thanks to Chloe and her wondrous
abilities. A few pieces hung down, framing my face, which had been painted. I
wasn’t one to wear much makeup, so when Chloe offered to “do me up” as she put
it, I’d been leery.

Surprisingly, she
hadn’t overdone it. My eyes had a smoky shadow on the lid, a thin black line
along my lashes and black mascara on them, and a clear gloss on my lips to top
it off. Nothing outrageous and I actually liked what I saw. I looked older, or
at least I thought I did.

Silver hoops dangled
from my ears while a silver chain hung around my neck, coming right above the
swell of my breasts
—
made to appear bigger thanks to the push-up bra that I’d dug out of my drawer.
I had forgotten all about that trip to the mall so long ago. I don’t even
remember what had prompted it, but I do remember spending an obscene amount of
money in a lingerie store. Not that I’d ever had anyone to wear lingerie for,
but at the time, I think I’d needed the boost of knowing I had something pretty
on beneath my clothes.

It was certainly
working now.

The sheer black thigh
highs had been Chloe’s suggestion. Personally, I thought they were an elegant
touch, but I feared that if I sat down, the tops would be visible beneath the
hem of the short black dress I was wearing. Chloe informed me that wasn’t an
issue. Whether she meant that they wouldn’t show or that they would, I didn’t
know.

The closed-toe pumps
were a nice touch, much classier than anything I owned.

“Here,” Chloe said as
she walked into my room holding out a small black clutch.

“Thanks. I’m not sure
what I’d do without you,” I told her, grabbing my cell phone and my lip gloss
from my dresser and tossing them inside.

“Well, tonight you’d be
going to a party naked.”

True. I laughed,
sparing myself one last look in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing.”

I walked into the
living room to find Aaron leaning against the wall and Mark fiddling with
Aaron’s bowtie. I stopped, momentarily stunned by how handsome he looked in his
tuxedo. Sure, he’d been hot in high school, and had actually caused plenty of
women to have heart palpitations at our senior prom, but this Aaron
—
older and wiser
—
was devastatingly handsome.

“Wow.” The single word
barely coming out.

“That’s exactly what I
said,” Mark added. “Doesn’t he look fucking hot?”

“I’ll say.”

Aaron offered me a
sideways smirk before wrapping his hands around Mark’s wrists and pulling him
closer. I looked away when the two men kissed, not wanting to invade their
privacy.

“Come on, you two. You
can play kissy face later,” Chloe told Mark and Aaron. “You kids are gonna be
late,” Chloe declared, urging me farther into the room. “I suggest you get
going.”

I glanced at the clock
on the wall. It was already seven and we still had a forty-five minute drive
ahead of us. That would put us at the party at the perfect time to be
fashionably late. That is if I didn’t stall any longer.

“Don’t keep him out too
late,” Mark whispered to me as he offered a brief hug. “I’m going to take him
home with me tonight and ravish him until dawn.”

I blushed. I couldn’t
help it. It wasn’t that I was a prude, but I could totally picture the two of
them in my head and… well… I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking about that.

Chloe handed me a silky
black wrap and I slid it over my shoulders. It wouldn’t do much against the
chill in the November night air, but she had insisted it would look good.

Vain. That was
obviously what I was going for tonight, I had told her, laughing.

“My car or yours?” I
asked Aaron as I passed him on my way to the front door.

“Mine,” he answered easily,
reaching around me and opening the door.

Aaron was the best date
ever. Probably because there weren’t any expectations. We were friends and we
could talk about anything and everything, which we did. From the moment we got
into the car, until we pulled up to the guard station at Mr. Trovato’s estate,
there was never a lull in the conversation.

That changed when we
pulled into the circular drive in front of Mr. Trovato’s house.

“Holy shit,” Aaron
whispered as he peered through the windshield of his fancy little Honda with
Bluetooth and satellite radio.

“Yep, that’s what I
thought the first time I saw it,” I told him.

Granted, the place
looked even more extravagant at night. Lights were hidden in the landscape,
strategically placed to show off all of the details of the mansion. There was a
line of expensive cars along one side of the driveway and several men
scattering in all directions, probably moving the cars to a safer place.

A valet came over and
opened my door for me, helping me out with a firm hand. I could have sworn he
eyed me up and down a couple of times, but I pretended not to notice, although
the sideways glance did wonders for my ego.

Aaron was instantly by
my side offering me his arm and walking me toward the steps that led to the
front door. A man in a suit
—
wielding
a gun on his hip and an earpiece in his ear
—
greeted us before opening the
front door and stepping back so we could enter.

I tried my best not to
gape at what I saw next, but that was rather difficult to do.

Mr. Trovato’s house was
impressive on the outside, but on the inside it was… I wasn’t even sure how to
explain it. It looked like something straight out of the Roman Empire. Or so it
did to me. Not that I’d seen any Roman empires, but if I had, this was what I
imagined they would look like.

There were thick white
columns that went at least twenty feet in the air on both sides, framing the
circular entryway, three on each side. The floor looked like marble. It was a beautiful,
gleaming white swirled with darker tones. An enormous sculpture of a semi-nude
woman stood in the center of the entry, flanked by two grand staircases that
circled up to the second floor. Somehow I managed not to whistle the way Chloe
always did, but I had to say I was impressed.

“May I take your coat,
madam?”

I turned to see another
man in a suit, this one significantly older than anyone else I’d met so far. He
looked like the same man I’d seen on the front steps the other day. I nodded,
and he assisted in pulling the wrap from my shoulders before disappearing.

Another man, who looked
a lot like Gun Guy by the front door, made his way over to us. “Right this
way.”

I glanced up at Aaron,
lifting my eyebrows in a silent “Can you believe this?” He smirked back at me,
looking regal and handsome and totally at ease. As though he actually belonged
in a place like this.

I, however, did not
feel like I belonged. I was suddenly self-conscious, wondering what other
people thought when they looked at me. Was my skirt too high? Could they see
the tops of my stockings when I walked? Did I look like a prostitute?

I didn’t have time to
ponder those questions for long though because we were on the move again, Aaron
leading me as we followed behind the man in a dark suit. He took us deeper into
the house, through what appeared to be a formal living room decked out with
modern, white furniture that looked like it had never been used, and then down a
hallway. At the end of the hall, we went up a different staircase, this one
just as grand as the ones near the front door with its intricate iron railing,
to the second floor and then down another long, wide hallway. By the time we
arrived at our destination, I was thoroughly lost. When we came upon a set of
double doors, he stopped, opened one of the doors and gestured us inside.

Holy. Smokes.

I didn’t stumble, and
I’m not sure how I managed that. Aaron and I walked into an enormous ballroom
filled with people. A waiter was standing near the door holding a tray of
champagne flutes. Because social protocol demanded that I do so, I took one of
the flutes, as did Aaron before we made our way inside.

Social protocol
probably didn’t demand that I down the champagne in two swallows, but I did
that anyway.

“How much money does
this guy have? And why the hell didn’t he hire a better decorator?” Aaron asked,
his voice a mere breath against my ear.

Laughing and gently
elbowing him in the ribs, I answered with, “A lot.”

I didn’t know what that
number was, but obviously it was enough, and Aaron did have a point. Although
nice, the place felt a little stuffy to me. A little too upper crust.

The walls donned a
fancy gold and red wallpaper with thick white trim framing it. The floor was
dark hardwood, with plush red carpet outlining the room. There were large
gilded plaques of various designs hanging above the doors and heavy gold drapes
covering the floor to ceiling windows.

Suffice it to say, it
did suit Mr. Trovato.

I spent the next few
minutes taking everything in. From the sophisticated décor to the fancy gowns
on the women and the expensive tuxes on the men. As I figured, most of the
people I encountered were older, and just as I thought, everyone seemed to look
right past me. If it hadn’t been for a man who had bumped into me and politely
apologized, I would have believed that I was invisible.

“Hey,” a chipper female
voice sounded from behind me and I turned, coming face to face with… “You must
be Payton. I’m Aaliyah. Welcome to my humble abode.”

Aaron snorted.

“I like you already,”
Aaliyah said to Aaron. “And you are?”

“Aaron.” He offered
Aaliyah his traffic stopping smile. “Payton’s gay best friend who was wrangled
into attending.”

Aaliyah’s grin was
radiant, as was the rest of her. She stood just a few inches taller than me,
her long, blond hair curled and hanging down her back. The dress she wore
probably cost more than I made in a year and it fit her like a glove, the
turquoise color setting off her bright blue eyes and olive complexion
perfectly.

“I definitely like
him,” she whispered to me. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Really?” Aaron asked
skeptically making a production out of looking around, earning him another
laugh from Aaliyah.

“Okay, it’s as bad as
it looks. But stick around, things usually get exciting later on.”

“Exciting? As in the
old people get naked and dance on the tables?” Aaron questioned.

Aaliyah gave my arm a
gentle squeeze and laughed. “God, I hope not.”

“It’s very nice to meet
you,” I told Aaliyah, grinning at Aaron’s joke.

“You, too. I’m sorry I
wasn’t here yesterday. I had an early class and if I’m late anymore, I’m gonna
get in serious trouble.”

“No worries,” I assured
her. I didn’t bother to mention to her my interaction with Sebastian, although
I wanted to ask her who he really was.

“You two have fun. I’ll
catch up to you later.” Aaliyah gave my arm another friendly squeeze and then
walked a few feet away, greeting one of the older couples.

“Mr. Trovato’s
daughter,” I explained to Aaron.

“I figured as much.”

“How so?”

“She’s probably the
youngest person in the place, and though I think your boss probably has a mistress
or two, I didn’t figure her to be that young.”

“He does
not
have a mistress.” I slapped Aaron lightly on the arm. I sure hoped Conrad
didn’t have a mistress.

“Don’t be so sure of
that.” The deep, rumbling voice came from behind me.

I spun around so fast,
I nearly dropped my empty champagne flute, but Sebastian retrieved it and set
it on a passing waiter’s tray like he did that sort of thing every day.

I merely stared at him,
a strange tingle igniting deep in my core as I came face to face with the man I’d
met just yesterday. The guy from my dream. The mechanic. He looked
significantly different than the last time I saw him though. Tonight he wasn’t
sporting tattered jeans. No, tonight he was wearing a tuxedo and likely
garnering the attention of every woman in the place.

The guy made a pair of
worn, tattered jeans look incredible, but he wore a tuxedo better than any man
I’d ever met.