Page 11 of Fractured Loyalties

Eleven

IVY

If it weren’t for Kade, I wouldn’t even have known there was a party here tonight.

Well, other than the pure chaos that’s happening in the West Wing.

Still, as I sit on my bed and stare at the clock, ticking closer and closer to seven, I start to wonder if I really am supposed to just rot away in my room and not show my face. It would make sense. I’m the unwanted addition to the family.

I toss my phone to the side, now ignoring messages from Kade.

I probably shouldn’t go. That’s the freaking answer to this dilemma. I should hide away in my room, like the good, invisible child my mother wants me to be.

Everyone wins that way.

My sulk session is interrupted by one sharp knock, and my door creaks open. I whip my head around, half-expecting to see Roman, who’s been strikingly absent in the past twenty-four hours, coming to torture me about my lack of invitation, but nope.

It’s my mother.

She glides into my room, as if she’s always belonged in my space. She’s not in her usual attire, and I almost don’t even recognize her. She is wearing a silk slip and slippers, and her face is scrubbed so raw it looks… vulnerable. She holds a dress bag in one hand and a small blue box in the other.

“Ivy,” she says, but not sharply. She waits for me to perch on the end of the bed before she unzips the bag with a gentle, almost hesitant motion. I have no idea what she’s doing, but I expect something horrific to come out of that bag. I brace for impact, preparing a humble acceptance speech.

And then… she pulls out a dress that is… stunning . It’s simple black velvet, sleeveless, high at the neck, and scandalous at the back.

“It was mine, but now it’s yours,” she says, laying it on my knees. “I had them take in the waist for you.”

I run my fingers over the fabric, expecting a trick as I meet her eyes.

“Um… I… Is this… a joke?”

Her lips twitch upward. “Consider it an olive branch.” She sits beside me, smoothing a wrinkle from the dress. For a second, I could almost believe that she loves me.

She sets the blue box on my lap. Inside is a single string of black pearls.

“Your grandmother’s,” Irena says, so quietly I almost miss it. “She would have wanted you to wear them. In fact, she probably would rather have skipped me altogether and just given them to you, herself.”

My mouth opens, but I can’t come up with anything to say. I don’t know how to thank her, and she doesn’t wait for me to try.

She stands and lets out a sigh. “Don’t embarrass me tonight. The party has already started, but there’s no rush. Please look presentable.”

With that, she leaves, and I get up. I hold the dress against my body, watching my reflection blur and sharpen in the full-length mirror.

Part of me hates what I see, because I can suddenly visualize the similarities between myself and my mother.

However, there’s the other part—the part that never felt good enough for her—that’s sickeningly satisfied to wear her dress and her family’s pearls.

So, I lean into that and send Kade a text to let him know I’ll be at the party.

Then I get ready.

I don’t make it to the west wing ballroom until almost nine, but no one seems to notice. It’s better that way, too, because honestly, the whole scene is foreign and the very definition of overwhelming.

The room is cathedral-sized and full of wealth.

Every wall is glass or gold, and every inch of the table is crowded with food, fountains, or crystalware.

There’s a live band, black-tied and brimming with musical professionalism.

There are teens in designer gowns and tuxes, clustered in corners, laughing with mouths that don’t quite open all the way.

What the fuck is this? It’s like something straight out of a movie, and I never thought this level of party even existed in real life.

I scan the crowd for familiar faces. The first ones I see are Blair and her clone army circling the champagne tower, snapping selfies, and occasionally tossing a glare my way. They don’t look happy to see me out of my cage, but they also don’t look all that threatening in the moment either…

This is my domain, even if it feels a little weird.

I make my way to the edge of the room, trying to disappear into a potted palm, but a server materializes at my elbow, tray extended. The man is older, seems kind, and gives me a look of such genuine sympathy that I want to cry.

“Champagne?”

“Um…” I stare at him, knowing full well that I’m not of drinking age, but considering everyone else is doing it… I take the glass and sip, expecting something sweet. I’m surprised to find that it’s dry, bitter, and immediately makes my lips numb.

The room is loud, with music pressing in from all sides. However, despite all the grandeur, I count three couples already sneaking off toward the hallways, two guys openly vaping by the window, and one girl in a gown so short I can see the outline of her thong.

Maybe this party isn’t so different from others after all.

I laugh into my glass, alone in the crowd, and try to imagine my dad here. He would have hated all of this; every glitzy, empty inch of it.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Kade’s voice booms from behind me, so close I can smell his cologne. It’s citrusy and earnest, and totally unlike the musky, predatory cloud that always trains Roman.

I turn to face him, immediately smiling at the warmth in his eyes.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, taking in the tux he’s wearing. He has left the bowtie untied, and the shirt is a little rumpled. His hair is damp at the edges, and his eyes are so bright it almost hurts to look at them.

It’s nice to see a lack of perfection, here in this perfect house.

“You clean up nice,” he says, giving me a slow, appreciative once-over that should feel like a threat, but doesn’t.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice catching on my words. “I wasn’t sure I’d even be allowed in, honestly. That’s why I didn’t text you back until it was almost too late.”

He leans in, the curve of his body blocking out half the room. “Well… you’re a Woods now. They couldn’t keep you out if they tried.” He nudges my glass. “You want something better? They have a full bar in the library. I’ve spent a lot of time here.”

I look down at the champagne, then back at the room. “Is it always like this?”

He grins, then shakes his head. “No, only for the big parties. Usually, it’s just us and a bottle of whatever we can sneak from the staff kitchen, because they don’t want to encourage underage drinking. ”

I laugh, and then I let him lead me through the crowd, the brush of his hand at my lower back both reassuring and electric. People are staring, but not at me. They seem to be staring more at Kade, and as selfish as it sounds, it’s nice that the judgment isn’t on me for once.

I wonder who he is to them…

In the library, the air is calmer. The noise is muffled to a distant thump, and the only people here are a couple making out by the fireplace and a staff member in the corner, texting.

“Over here,” he gestures to the bar, and I lean against the old mahogany as Kade pours us both something brown and burning.

The first sip is like gasoline, and I nearly choke, but I follow him to a private corner to sit.

The second sip feels better, and by the third, my whole body feels as if it’s wrapped in velvet.

And it’s not the dress doing it.

“So, you’re surviving this place, yeah?” Kade slips his hand onto my bare thigh, his touch warm to my skin.

“Yeah, something like that,” I laugh, and my head buzzes, the room tilting pleasantly. I down the rest of my drink and, when I set the glass down, I notice he’s watching my mouth as if it’s something precious.

“I can’t believe you already finished that,” he laughs, shaking his head at me. “We just sat down. I didn’t peg you for a drinker.”

“Me either,” I giggle, my stomach warm. “But it’s nice to let loose. I haven’t done that since…” My voice trails off as something dark fills my peripheral.

And there, filling the doorframe of the library out of the corner of my eye… Roman.

He glares at me, his eyes a deep shade of steel that sends a chill down my spine. I can’t break eye contact, though, drawn into them as if he’s the devil, luring me straight to hell in the guise of something irresistible.

“Ah,” Kade hums, his tone dropping an octave. “I guess your brother is a little protective.”

I barely hear him, but I don’t miss the smirk tugging at Roman’s lips.

I hate it. “I think I’ll have another drink.”

“Um, yeah, okay.” Kade’s voice remains cautious as he stands, and he goes over to the bar to pour me a repeat of whatever I just had.

Roman watches me the entire time, never faltering, and his eyes never leave mine.

What does he want?

Part of me wants to go and ask him, but the other part tells me to stay put, and that to approach him might be walking into a trap.

“Ignore him,” Kade whispers in my ear, setting the drink in my hand. “He’s got a few screws loose. He won’t bother us. He knows the trouble that would cause.”

That pulls my attention away, if only out of curiosity.

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to play coy as I take a sip of the new drink, which seems to be stronger than the last.

“It’s just something I heard through the grapevine,” Kade says quickly, his hand returning to my thigh, a little higher this time. He leans in, his lips catching the tip of my ear. “But I know a place we can go to get away from him.”

“Okay.” I nod, and then Kade is pulling me through the maze of shelves before I ever realize what’s happening. I down the rest of my drink and drop it off somewhere along the way, my heart pounding in my chest.

This is precisely what I need.