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Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Liv pushing through the crowd toward me, wearing a broad smile and doing that little skipping step she does when she’s excited. She cuts between me and Zander and gushes, “I’m gonna be an O-Chi Sweetheart!”

“What? You are?” I gape at her and then at Zander, who breaks into a grin.

“Braden just told me,” Liv squeals. “The brothers voted me in!” She hugs me so tight I squeak.

Once she’s gone, I round on Zander, joy bubbling in my chest. “You didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted to let her give you the news.”

I sigh, overcome with relief and gratitude. “Thank you.”

He draws me into his arms. “You know I’d do anything for you. ”

“Zander—” I start, about to object to I-don’t-know-what, when he silences me with another kiss. A very hot, demanding, common-sense-obliterating kiss.

A short while later, Zander wanders to the bar with orders to get me a Sprite.

Meanwhile, I hunt down the ladies’ room.

It’s not so much a bathroom as it is a suite.

Between the sofas hang full-length mirrors in gilded frames.

I pause in front of one, and after making sure I’m alone, pull my dress up to the top of my thigh-highs.

Red stains my cheeks. Yeah, that’s scandalously high. Good thing I’ve stopped drinking.

Back in the hall, couples meander and a pack of O-Chi’s stagger drunkenly by.

I turn the corner, my heels clicking on the polished floors.

Even more guests mill around outside the ballroom, loitering on cushioned benches and laughing in groups.

Just outside the dining room, I see Zander, politely waiting for me with a drink in each hand.

The sight warms my heart until I realize who’s keeping him company.

Seated on a bench, batting her big eyes up at him, is Lara. Her legs are crossed and angled in his direction, her dress riding high up her thighs. And I thought I was shameless. Zander is talking to her, but he isn’t smiling. When he sees me approaching, he lets out a breath.

“Oh, look. She did come back,” Lara says, falsely cheerful. Was she trying to convince him I was going to skip out on him? If she likes him so much, why would she be so cruel?

“Where’s Cole?” I ask, pinning her with a glare. I’m getting tired and I’ve had enough of her shit.

“I don’t know,” she simpers. “Where’s your hottie from the library?”

Zander’s back goes rigid.

That bitch .

I smile at him and relieve him of my Sprite. “Come on.”

We almost make it to the ballroom before he stops me with a hand around my elbow. “Did you…are you going out with him?”

“No.” Absolutely not.

“Tell me the truth.”

“Okay, yes. Sort of. But nothing came of it.” There, something close to truth.

“He’s dangerous.”

“I know.” I’m being curt, but so what? I don’t want to talk about Leo. I don’t even want to think about him.

Zander’s jaw pulses. “If he’s hurt you?—”

“He hasn’t.” There, an outright lie.

Unfortunately, Zander knows me too well to be fooled. He tugs on my arm, ushering me far from prying ears. “What happened?”

Part of me wants to tell him, not about Nàdar, but that Leo used and manipulated me. I want Zander to rush off into the night to defend my honor. To punish Leo with his fists. Because I can’t, no matter how angry and betrayed I feel.

“Tell me,” Zander insists. “What did he do?”

“Nothing. He just…he…you were right. He isn’t who I thought he was.”

“I told you. But you didn’t listen to me, did you?”

Wait a minute, so I’m the bad guy?

Zander takes me by the shoulders. “He’s the reason you broke up with me, isn’t he?”

“What? No!”

“Fuck.” He rolls his eyes to the heavens. “I knew it.”

“He isn’t,” I protest.

Zander doesn’t listen. “I told you to stay away from him.”

“He was a friend!”

“Obviously, he wasn’t!”

Passersby are beginning to stare. “Don’t make a scene.”

“A scene? Really?” Zander’s blue eyes flash. “He took you away from me!”

I’m frozen to the spot, heart pounding and a sick feeling in my stomach. “You don’t own me.” They’re soft words on an exhale but Zander hears them, and he’s pissed. He backs me into the hall and when it proves too crowded, he marches me into a vacant alcove.

“Why did you come tonight?” he demands.

“Because you asked me to. As friends .”

“Oh please. We both know I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I did.” At least I did when I accepted the invitation. Never mind that all the alcohol has made me forget that.

“Then why have you been all over me all night?”

Guilt makes me defiant. “Why not?”

“I’m not your fuck buddy.” He looms over me, both hands on the wall on each side of my head. “Especially after you fucked somebody else.”

“Me? What about you and Lara? Did you forget about that?” I shove against his chest, but he barely moves.

“Ha! So you did fuck him?”

I don’t like the way Zander’s color is rising, but I raise my chin and stand my ground. “Might I remind you, we—” I point to each of us in turn, “aren’t together anymore.”

He scoffs. “Please. Everybody knows you’re still mine. Everybody except him.” It’s not the way he spits the word him that has me recoiling, it’s his indignation, so potent it boils the blood in my veins.

I shove off the wall and push my way out from underneath his arm. Without looking back, I stomp down the hall, not even sure where I’m heading.

“Betts!” He runs after me. “Stop.”

I do no such thing.

He seizes me around the middle, jerking me to a halt. “Stop. Please.” He spins me around to face him. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I’m a jealous asshole. I’m possessive as fuck. I know!” It’s part confession-part plea.

“Do you even care about me? Or do you just want to own me? ”

He blinks those pretty aquamarine eyes, desperate and confused. “I love you.”

“Do you?” I doubt he knows what love is.

“Yes! Betts, you’re all I can think about. I’ve been so fucking depressed, just ask Braden. It’s like…it’s like…I’m sick or something, and I can’t get better. Not until you come back.”

“So depressed you slept with Lara?” There isn’t much snark behind my jab. Not when his regret is like a blanket over my shoulders, smothering my fire.

“Yes,” he admits. “That depressed. I can’t stand her, you know that, but I was drunk and miserable and missing you so bad.

” He grips my bare shoulders. “Betts, babe, please. I even still have your cooler. And your shampoo.” He stoops and chases my eyes.

“And that old Panthers tee shirt you always wear. They’re all just sitting there, waiting for you to come back. ”

Tears blur my vision. I miss my cooler and that stupid t-shirt. I just don’t understand why.

“Betts, please,” Zander murmurs, knowing the fight is going out of me. He gathers me to him as I choke on a sob.

No. I push on his chest. I need air. And I need to think.

“Babe.” He wipes my mascara-stained cheeks with his thumb.

“I…I have to fix my face. Just give me a bit. I’ll come back.”

He holds me firmly until I look him in the eye. “You promise?”

“Yes. I’ll be back.” When he releases me, I turn and head back down the hall, hoping it will take me to the elevators.

Unfortunately, only a few yards ahead is Lara, striding purposefully toward me, her sandals beating a foreboding rhythm. No doubt she’s hunting down Zander, eager to offer him comfort after the fight she’s caused. She slows as she gets nearer, while I unclench my jaw and try to look composed.

“Betts,” she pouts, feigning concern. “Everything alright?”

“Yep.” Just peachy.

“Where’s Zander? ”

“Um.” I glance over my shoulder, hoping he’s not about to appear. “Ballroom.”

She has the gall to lay a hand on my shoulder and make doe eyes at me. “You two didn’t have a fight, did you?”

“Nope.” I slip out from under her grip, her envy scorching me through her fingertips. “I’m just going back to my room for something.”

I’ve almost escaped to the elevators when she calls out, “Oh, Betts. Is it true your friend Olivia is going to be an O-Chi Sweetheart?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I force a smile. “Yep.”

“Really?” She saunters closer and lowers her voice. “Because between you and me, I don’t think Braden’s all that excited about it.”

“That’s his problem.”

“You know he wanted to bring someone else tonight?”

Dammit. The bleach blond? No, probably someone even newer.

Lara calls after me, “But Zander begged him not to.”

I whirl around.

“Poor Zander,” she pouts. “He was worried you wouldn’t come tonight if Olivia didn’t.”

Is that true, or is she just guessing? Whatever. It doesn’t matter. She’s a meddling bitch. “What Braden does is none of my business.”

And what Zander does is none of Lara’s.

“Okay, whatever.” She gives another one of her stupid little finger waves and struts away.

I make for the elevator, struggling to keep from making fists and stomping.

Once I’m alone inside, I collapse against the fake paneling and exhale.

So much petty bullshit. Aren’t there more important things to worry about?

The polar ice cap is melting, people are starving, women’s rights are being threatened everywhere, and I’m having a stare-down with a jealous redhead who wants my ex-boyfriend.

My life is nothing more than a never-ending episode of Gossip Girl .

As much as I don’t want to, I think of Leo, of his words when he trapped me in the O-Chi pantry. You’re more than this. Am I? Or am I Zander’s arm-candy, showing off my legs for some plastic beads? An ornament, a commodity, a pawn in everyone’s game—Zander’s, Lara’s, Braden’s, Liv’s, Mom’s.

Leo’s.

The elevator jerks to a stop and the doors slide open.

It’s empty and quiet up here on the fourth floor.

Peaceful. I’m tempted to hide out in our room for the rest of the night, even though it smells strongly of shampoo, perfume, and industrial cleaner.

I could kick off these painful heels and watch a movie on pay-per-view.

Raid the minibar. I happen to really like macadamia nuts and four-ounce bottles of ginger ale.