Page 60 of Cruel Pleasures

The trunk is still on my mind hours later when I’m coming down the main oak staircase for another evening of Midnight Society festivities. Round two of the games will be held tonight. I couldn’t be less enthused.

Every moment I spend undercover on this isle feels like another nail in my proverbial coffin. I might not have a loving family or big group of friends waiting for me in Easton. I don’t even have a fuckbuddy, much less a caring boyfriend, but I’m desperate to return to my old life. I’m looking forward to the moment I get to drop the mask.

And process the fact that the woman I called my best friend for six years was hiding an entire segment of her life from me.

Lyra’s still in my thoughts as I wander into a parlor of mingling society members. In comparison to the other nights, I’m dressed down. A simple, thin-strapped sparkly dress that stops a couple inches down my thighs. One of the more revealing outfits when I glance around the room and spot everyone in semi-formal attire.

Do I even care at this point if I stick out? Do I care if they figure out I’m not Sasha Newton?

The Hostess already knows…

Which causes me to search the room for her. I haven’t seen much of her since the night of Talia’s murder.

“There she is,” comes Archer’s voice next to my ear.

I flinch, thrown off by his sudden appearance. He’s strode up from behind and cupped his hand to my elbow to escort me away.

“I’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

“Funny,” I answer flatly. “I could say the same to you.”

“You sound upset.”

“That’s because I am. Were you avoiding me earlier?”

Archer’s brows jerk upward. “Why do you sound like you’ll be pissed with any answer I give?”

“Were you?”

“I had important matters to handle.”

“Do you normally get girls high off some drug, fuck them, then ghost them?”

“Depends. Do you always pick stupid fights out of nowhere for no reason?”

“If it’s stupid, you’re welcome to walk away at any time,” I snap.

Archer’s gentle cup of my elbow tightens into an aggressive grip of it. He walks me out of the crowded parlor room into the hall, then flattens me against the wall. Suddenly, I’m trapped in place, forced to peer moodily up at him.

His jaw’s clenched. Lips pressed together. “Something’s obviously fucking bothering you. Something that’s not about me not being around earlier today. Tell me what it is.”

A deep breath shakes out of me. “I can’t tell you.”

“Try me.”

“It’s… it’s about a friend of mine. My best friend.”

“Sasha Newton’s best friend,” he says slowly, almost strangely amused. “Go on.”

“It’s not funny!”

“I never said it was.”

“You’re practically smirking,” I say. I try to duck out from under him, but he doesn’t let me. He pushes me back against the wall and cages me into place. Frustration throbs deeper, making me scowl. “You’re not going to understand. So just let me go.”

“I said try me.”

My nostrils flare with the next breath I take in. “I found out my friend… she might not’ve been who I thought she was. She was hiding things from me.”