Wicked Love | √

Thirty Seven

I can feel my heartbeat race frantically throughout my entire body. The thundering is almost deafening.

My eyes glance around the limousine and the tension that hangs in the air is so heavy and thick I feel as if I might choke.

Everett's sitting across from me in a deep maroon tuxedo holding onto his crystal tumbler of whiskey so tightly I'm worried the glass will shatter in his hand. His ink black hair is combed back, but a stray lock falls perfectly across his forehead. He's been unusually quiet the entire ride into the city as the weight of tonight sits heavily on all of us.

Lawrence sits next to him in a classic black tux tailored to absolute perfection. He hasn't spoken one word as his jaw has been permanently locked the entire car ride almost resembling granite. I'm honestly shocked he hasn't chipped a tooth thus far.

They both look polished and flawless even with the apprehensiveness tightening around all our throats like a noose. I can see the weariness in the depths of their eyes.

Preston's thumb traces faintly on the naked skin of my thigh revealed by the slit in my dress. He hasn't stopped touching me this entire time as if he's trying to calm me, but we both knew there is no such thing as calm. We are walking straight into the enemy's territory.

We are walking in exposed. Vulnerable.

My eyes fall to Preston's hand and I place mine on top of it. His hand squeezes mine in response. The sight of the red fabric wrapped around me sends a scary chill through me that lands heavily in the pit of my stomach. The stones covering me are sewn expertly and sparkle in the dim light of the limo.

Finally we come to a stop. We have arrived. We all sit for a moment before there's a light knock on the window and then the door is opening.

There's no turning back now.

With a steadying breath I lift my chin and I straighten my shoulders in attempts to feel as in control as possible. My pulse races and Preston's fingers tangle with mine and it's as if attempting to transfer some of his strength to me.

My eyes meet his and for that single moment it's just us. There's no fire. No death. No notes. No threats. No fear. Just us.

Just love.

And I hold onto that tightly. Desperately.

Then I turn away and I step out of the car. I'm the first one out and the blood red crystal covered fabric falls heavily to the ground around me. Immediately photographers start clicking their cameras and the flashes begin to blind me.

The night is so dark, not even a sliver of the moon is insight. The wind sounds like it's crying as it whips around us wildly lifting the ends of my curled dark hair. It would almost be beautiful if it didn't feel so haunted.

The St. Regis hotel is dazzling as the guests make their way in looking gorgeous as they walk up the perfectly laid out red carpet. The photographers move around anxiously when they see who climbs out of the car behind me.

A hand lands on my waist and I look up to see Preston. His eyes hold mine and I can read every emotion that is whirling around recklessly inside him. I see it so clearly because mine mirror his.

His custom black tuxedo with satin lapels fits him perfectly, and if I wasn't so wrapped up in the night ahead I'd find a room for us to sneak off into so I could rip it off of him.

The paparazzi go even more insane the moment Everett and Lawrence climb out next.

With that all of us, with me leading, walk into the hotel. I don't miss the way people whisper and glance in my direction. I do have the heirs by my side, and this is a party celebrating their once friend who they turned on to send to jail.