Tough Love

Chapter Four

The party is a success. I know this because at least five people have told me so. How good the food is. How pretty the flowers are. How grown up I look in this dress. It makes me wonder if they want something from me.

Of course they want something from me.

Maybe I'm just being cynical. The people do seem very nice...if a little superficial. Every conversation I've had has been about the weather and the best wine vintage. And the weather again.

I miss lounging on the couch, choking down whiskey or listening to music. I miss resting my head on Gio's strong thigh, feeling the warm weight of his hand on the back of my neck.

I miss him.

"Dear?"

My attention snaps back to the woman in front of me. It's almost hard to see her face with all the diamonds crowding her neck and earlobes. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Donato. I didn't hear you."

It helps that the ballroom is crazy loud. It makes it less weird that she has to keep repeating herself to me. "Call me Ines," she says with a knowing smile. "You're practically a woman now. One of us."

One of us. But who is that exactly?

It's like there's a secret handshake that no one ever taught me. I understand what Gio meant about staying in the background and hoping not to be noticed. There's something almost creepy about all the smiles and the wealth. And the congratulations for my sister, when everyone here knows what a monster Byron is.

Heck, everyone here is a monster.

All the jewels dripping from wrists and necks were bought with blood. But I'm supposed to smile and say, "I'm so thrilled to be here."

She clucks. "It's so hot though. More than usual, don't you think?"

"Yes, it has been warm this year."

Which is a lie. We live in Las Vegas. It's basically a giant oven, a kiln that's been baking the cracked clay earth for centuries. The grounds of my father's estate are lush green, a testament to what huge sums of money and half the city's water supply can accomplish.

We've made our own little oasis. But that doesn't make it any less of an illusion.

I scan the crowd, but I'm too short to see above the black tuxes and fancy hairdos. "Have you happened to see Honor around?"

Mrs. Di Donato winks. "I saw her leaving the ballroom with Byron a few minutes ago. Young love is a beautiful thing."

I manage some kind of nod that convinces her before making my excuses. Then I'm crossing the ballroom. I readjust the shawl as I go, making sure it's covering my cleavage. My feet are aching after hours of standing in heels—seriously, whoever invented these was a masochist. Or a sadist. But they don't slow me down. Whatever is going on between Honor and Byron, it's not love. I have to check on her.

A man stops in front of me. I start to go around him, but he touches my arm.

I flinch back. Only then do I realize he was stopping me on purpose.

He smiles. "Are you Clara?"

I've never seen this man before. And I have no desire to meet him now. "Excuse me. I'm looking for my sister."

He grins, mouth stretching wide. He looks kind of like a movie star, and I don't like it. "I'm afraid she's indisposed at the moment. I hope that will give you a few minutes to talk to me."

I'm standing in the middle of hundreds of people, but I've never felt more alone. I don't know where Honor is. She could be anywhere in the house. Heck, she could have left the house. And with Byron, who is no doubt hurting her in some way. He will always hurt her. There's no way we can stop him. As I stand in the crowded room, a deep and sorrowful certainty takes root.