Which I’d done. For the past hour. We were on the back of a small docked yacht, our view the glimmering Fourth of July party beach. I always thought the Crowne Fourth party was the most exclusive party in the world, but this was the other side of the other side. We were far enough away to be secret, close enough to still see the glittering sand and fireworks.
On the yacht, everyone was either dressed in their best, in the skimpiest bikinis known to man, or in absolutely nothing at all.
I couldn’t have stood out worse.
I’d had to watch Grayson and Lottie flirt,
see his sweet yet leonine smiles. Pretend it didn’t bug me. Because that was the goal, right? Then all this would be over.
But I couldn’t stop wondering, Did he whisper dirty, cruel things like with me?
Did it light her on fire, like it did me?
Now? Grayson leaned off the back of the yacht, his tuxedo jacket long tossed to some forgotten corner of the boat, his white dress shirt unbuttoned and showing the muscular planes of his chest. Two barely clothed models simultaneously poured champagne into his mouth, and it splashed past his lips, wet his chest, and soaked his shirt to his skin.
Grayson had barely looked at me since he’d discovered who my uncle was. I understood why he was ignoring me, but why is he ignoring Lottie?
He came up laughing and kissed one, then the other, before taking a drag of his cigarette. Once again I wondered how he could do this to Lottie. He was supposed to love her, and he’d left her alone to kiss random models.
“I upset him.”
I jumped at the voice. Turning, I looked into the dark-brown eyes of Lottie du Lac. In a silk green minidress with diamond straps that hugged every curve and left little to the imagination, she was gorgeous.
I quickly looked at the shiny maple deck.
“I think we’re past that.”
I lifted my head, but her eyes were on Grayson.
“Any advice? What can I do to fix what I broke?” She turned to me. “You have a unique relationship with him, after all.”
Have you ever come on someone’s hand, Snitch?
The memory blasted through me.
“No. He just likes my uncle,” I lied. Why? Why was I lying? “So I guess it runs in the family.”
I was starting to feel like I was in over my head. Dirty. Icky.
Wrong.
“Maybe if you told him the truth, what was on your mind.”
She laughed softly. “Du Lac women keep anything untoward to themselves.” She spoke almost robotically, like they weren’t her own words.
“Apologize?”
“Hmm…but I don’t know what I did.” She rolled her lips, eyes back on me. “Maids hear all our dirty secrets. Why would Playboy Gray get mad when he hears his nickname?”
I lifted my eyes, stupidly, foolishly, to see Grayson watching us very intently. A cigarette in his hand glowed like a firefly in the night.
She shook her head. “Never mind! I don’t know what I’m saying. Too much Cristal. Ignore me.”
“Maybe it hurt his feelings,” I said quietly.
“Grayson?” She laughed, the idea so ridiculous. Still, she watched him. For so long, I thought she might go to him.
But after a moment, she said, “It was nice talking to you again.”