Page 19 of Unveil

The hell I have, but I’m not here to convince three knuckleheads what I want. The only person I need to talk to is Zy, that’s never been more clear.

Jesus, tomorrow can’t come soon enough.

A tray of shots comes by, and Bart pulls out a wad of cash that makes my eyes nearly bug out as he signals for the waiter to stop.

“For the birthday girl.” He grabs four, flashing his canines in a grin over his shoulder that makes him nearly drop them. “Help me, will ya, Rufus?”

I go up on tiptoe to figure out what the shots on the tray are, but the waiter disappears in the crowd, and I plop back down on my heels. Honestly, I’ll take any liquid courage at this point.

Bart passes the shots out, leaving me last. “You look stressed. Maybe this’ll help.”

Zy’s eyes narrow at his cousin. “I can get my fiancé a drink.”

“Sorry, Thrasher. Figured I’d give my future cousin-in-law what she needed sinceyoucouldn’t do the job.” He snickers. “Damn, man, you act like you didn’t have your daddy around to teach you manners or something.”

Ozias’s cheeks flush crimson. I want to defend him, point out that my dad wouldn’t even speak to Mr. Thrasher if he didn’t like the man, let alone allow me to date his son.

But something’s… off.

I glance between them, trying to figure out where this tension is coming from. Rufus and Bart are practically twins with blond hair that’s slicked back and teeth so big I feel like little red riding hood, their eyes watching my every movement like a predator.

Zy is undeniably handsome, dark eyes and hair, always clean-shaven, showing off his sharp jawline, although I like him best scruffy. And how could I forget Mr. White Knight’s easy smile that never, ever,evergoes away.

Except for right now.

Zy’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking as I wait out this weird standoff. I reach up to cup his cheek, but he flinches away.

I sigh.

Typical.

The motion broke the moment for everyone though, and Zy looks his cousin up and down before he takes my shot from my hand.

“I’m getting you a drink. Be right back.”

What the hell?

My eyes dart between my empty hand and his back before I eventually mutter, “Jesus, what was that all about?”

Bart chuckles behind me. “Thought he’d do that.” He taps my shoulder. “No worries, princess. I always think ahead. Here.”

His shot enters my field of vision, and I take it before he can spill it down my chest.

“Snagged an extra one before the waiter left. You looked like you needed more than one.”

Damn right I do.

He and Rufus raise their shots, and I do the same as Bart says, “Let the good times roll, Princess Bordeaux.”

I don’t dignify the “princess” remark with a response, toasting instead. “Laissez les bon temps rouler, indeed.”

We down our shots in one go, but I come up sputtering. The overly sweet concoction makes me forget all about my Liquor Poker Face game, and I scrape my tongue with my teeth.

“What was that? Straight sugar?”

Rufus snorts. “Just like a city girl not to take her liquor.”

“Aw, be nice, Roofs. The girl can’t be good at everything. Nice dancing earlier, by the way.” Bart backs up the compliment with a reproachful brow. “Though I was surprised to see the tats. Skulls? On a pretty thing like you?”