Page 23 of The Spare (The King Dynasty #2)

Chapter thirteen

Here We Go

" U gh!" I groan, throwing my makeup brush onto the small vanity in frustration. I take the makeup wipe and smooth it over my eyelid, praying that it doesn't irritate my skin as this is my fifth time trying to redo it.

"What's wrong?" Karissa, my roommate, walks over to bend down to look at my reflection in the mirror. Her blond brow arches as she assesses my handiwork.

Sighing, I hold the pencil up to my eye again, trying to go slow.

"I keep fucking up my eyeliner," I mumble. The pen slips again, smearing the wing at the edge.

Karissa tsks and takes it from me, rubbing the edge where she starts to carefully draw in my liner with her tongue between her teeth. "Why are you putting on so much makeup anyways?" she asks.

Heat fills my cheeks at her judgemental question. I can't tell her it's because I want to appear more grown up, womanly in front of my sister's brother-in-law. "I just want to start taking better care with my appearance. My sister's in-laws are throwing a dinner party for my birthday today."

She pauses, putting the pen down to look at me. "What? It's your birthday?" My face heats up in earnest now as she glares at me. The room becomes almost as icy as her ice blond platinum hair. "Bitch, why haven't you said anything?"

"I just…" Because I don't want the attention. "Because I don't want to make it a big deal."

"Melody, I would have loved to celebrate you!" Her eyes go wide. "Can I come tonight? To the dinner?"

I pause. She must see the look on my face because hers turn pouty. "Come onnn, Melody!" she whines. "I want to help celebrate your birthday!"

"Fine," I sigh.

Pulling out my phone I send a text to mine, Isobel's and Hendrix's group chat, letting them know I'm bringing someone to dinner tonight. I know they won't mind because I never ask for anything. Sure enough, Hendrix texts back quickly, giving me the go ahead.

Why wouldn't you bring someone? Is it a guy? -Henny

I snort.

I wouldn't dare. The family is strictly forbidden from bringing random love interests into the fold. For good reason, I know, due to all the legal paperwork that goes into drafting NDAs, but it makes me wonder why he'd ask if he knows that's one of the first fucking family rules.

"You can come," I tell Karissa, seeing her do a little wiggle dance and shout with happiness.

"Now, what are you going to wear?" she asks.

Strolling to my side of the dorm she opens the door then steps back with her hands on her hips.

She scans the rows and rows of leggings and tank tops, her frown getting deeper every passing second.

Stepping forward, the hangers clack together loudly as she moves it all to the side rather violently to get to the back of the closet, where the pickings are still meager. "This is all you've got?"

I bite my lip. "Yes."

Standing up, I clutch the towel I wrapped around me tighter and walk over to the closet with her.

She picks out a black dress, but it goes all the way to my ankle and has ruffles on it.

It's completely inappropriate for a birthday dinner.

Isobel got it for me last year to go to some banquet with her when Hendrix was out of town.

Karissa tsks. "We're going shopping in my closet."

She pivots on her heel and skips to her closet which is stuffed full to the gills with all manner of clothes and begins moving hanger after hanger. I admire her style, but she's shorter than me, so anything she could possibly give me will more than likely be indecent.

My phone dings, and I walk back over to the little vanity where I see Mason's texted me.

It's five o'clock sweetheart. -Mason

I know. I'm trying to find something to wear. -Melod y

The bubbles come fast.

"Here, I think these will be so pretty on you," Melody interrupts, draping a couple options over my bed. I look over and cringe, seeing it's just as bad, if not worse, than I thought. She got out options for what looks to be a nightclub, not my in-law's grand estate.

What do you mean you're trying to find something to wear? Melody…-Mason

My brow arches at his obvious slight chastisement of me. His discontent wafts through the phone, and gets my butt into gear. I bite my lip and hurry over to the bed, snatching one up.

"I'll take this one," I say, picking up a rather pretty deep purple dress with itty bitty tassels all over it. It's shimmery and looks good against my skin.

I'm already outside waiting. Don't make me have to come get you. -Mason

"He's here!" I gasp, turning quickly to head to the door so I can change in the bathroom like usual. I'm rushing, and it sets Karissa off, igniting her hyper-excited attitude.

"Who?" Karissa asks, her voice going an octave higher as my panic spreads.

I veer to the vanity and snatch my hair oil off, twirling around like a manic. I don't know why he affects me this bad, but Mason has always been able to dig under my skin and set me off kilter.

“My sister's brother-in-law. The ‘Spanish one,’" I air quote her words from earlier. "He's picking me up, and he's already here," I stress, stumbling over a wayward shirt left in the floor.

"No time for that then."

Karissa leans forward and snatches the dress out of my hand and then shoves it over my head.

Before I know it, she's ripped the towel off, and, yelping, I clamp my arm over my breasts.

I'm left glowering at her while standing in nothing but a black thong and this ridiculous dress around my neck.

She ignores me and manhandles me into the dress.

As soon as it's smoothed over my hips I bend down and flip my hair a little, shaking my curls out and spritzing oil everywhere. "It's too fucking short," I complain, tugging on the hem.

"Hang on, I bought some too-big tights last week by accident. See if they'll fit!" She dives for her dresser, pulling out a pair of sheer, black tights. I yank them on carefully, trying to not tear them. Thankfully, they have a lot of stretch, and they work, but they're mighty sheer.

"Here wear these." Before I can stand up straight and get my bearings, she pushes me to the edge of her mattress and picks my foot up where she shoves a black, ridiculously high platform heel on my foot.

"Karissa!" I protest, pulling my foot away, but she just yanks me back, tying the strap around my ankle.

Just then my phone rings. I answer, completely overwhelmed.

"What?" I snap, not even knowing who's on the other end.

"Who are you talking to like that?" Mason says, making me bite my lip.

"Sorry, I didn't know it was you."

"And why not?"

I frown at his irritated tone. "What do you mean why not?"

"Do you need help with cognitive comprehension as well as math, Mel? I mean just that. Why not? As in why didn't you know it was me?"

"Because I didn't know!"

His voice goes lower. "You don't have a special ring tone for me?"

I arch a brow, and scoff in disbelief. "I'm sorry. I'm gen Z, and we don't even have a ringtone half the time, selfish. "

He snorts. "Whatever. Well, tick tock, sweetheart, get to moving," Mason growls. I blush, standing up as she gets the last shoe on. "It's five twenty-five. You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

My heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice. It's smooth and elegant, not rough like his brother's. Mason's timbre drips effortless sophistication and arrogance. His slight Spanish accent bleeds through a bit thicker today, and it's so sexy.

"I'm coming, Mason. Jesus."

"Melody, if you get in my car and I see you're late because you have a pound of makeup on your face we're going to have a serious, serious fucking problem."

I make a sound and snatch up my clutch, tucking it under my arm. "Just for that I'm not rushing," I lie.

I'm met with silence.

"Text me the address! I'll be there in about an hour and a half," Karissa whispers, opening the dorm room door and waving at me as I run with Stephen in close pursuit, tearing through the hallways.

Rushing anyways because I can't help myself when it comes to him.

Thank God I'm a great runner. Otherwise, I'd be flat on my face in these heels.

I make it to the library in record time and stop just before the double doors, placing a hand on heart. I know I can't not catch my breath because of running, I run miles before I'm affected. It's him. He makes me nervous.

"Keep going."

I screech, slapping a hand to Stephen's chest and almost leap out of my skin at the sound of Mason's voice in my ear. He was so silent I'd forgotten I still had him on the phone.

Wrangling a firm grip on my sanity, I push through the double doors and gingerly make my way down the concrete stairs with Stephen hovering, grumbling about ridiculous stripper heels.

Feeling the hair on the back of my neck stand up, I glance up and freeze at the sight of Mason's red Ferrari parked across the street.

He stands there in a navy suit, arms folded leaning against the side of it, staring me down. God, he's handsome. Though I've seen this man at least a hundred times since his brother married my sister, it still feels like the first time.

Because he makes it that way.

His eyes bore into mine as I step onto the sidewalk.

His hand taps his bicep as he waits patiently in a movement he'd shared that he'd learned from therapy.

That familiar heat that plagues me every time we're around one another swamps me again, settling in my core and spreading outwards.

His gaze leaves mine to flick downwards, and he tilts his head when he gets to my cleavage then lower to where I'm showing way too much leg.

My eyes lower down him in the same slow perusal.

I bite my lip, seeing the bulge in between his legs twitch.

His eyes snap back to mine, but he stands there silently, waiting for me.

I immediately blush so hard I feel dizzy and tear my eyes away for a second, needing a moment to get control over myself around him because I've never seen him have an erection before.