“That’s not why I’m here.”
“Oh? Are you who they hired to supervise the children?”
“More like, the adults.”
“Oh, please. We’re doing just fine.”
“Looks like it,” he said, eyeing a room so full of tension a single wrong move could detonate a bomb.
We stopped at the short line to the bar. Waiters flitted from here to there, but it seemed there weren’t enough to satisfy everyone’s need for alcohol.
My shoulder bumped into Christian’s arm while I moved to stand beside him. His body tensed, but apparently he was still choosing to ignore my presence. The small touch lit a fire in me, and I fought the invisible pull to step closer to him. I crossed my arms, putting on my best interrogation pose.
“What were your whereabouts at approximately three a.m. last Friday night?”
His gaze slid to me, sizing up my stance. “Home. Sleeping.”
“See . . . I just don’t believe you.”
“Why’s that?” he drawled.
“Lucifer never sleeps.”
He appeared almost amused, but I couldn’t be sure because he grabbed his drink from the bartender and left me standing there, alone.
I sighed, turning on my heel to follow him. “You’re going to give a girl a complex.”
“Another complex might be exactly what you need.”
“Ha ha, very funny. But jokes aside—did you take me home the other night?”
“No.”
“Did your good twin take me home?”
He let out a breath of amusement.
He was now walking down a hallway off the ballroom, but I wasn’t going to follow him into any dark corridor. No matter if there was a door with Security written on it at the end. I stopped, and my frustration with his evasion finally bubbled to the surface and into my voice.
“What did you do to me, Allister?”
He paused, turned to face me. “You think I did something to you?” He laughed darkly. “Felt you up while you were passed out?”
Well, no. That hadn’t even crossed my mind, but why had he taken me home? He had to have an ulterior motive. “Did you go through my underwear drawer? You know, you can buy used ones for sixty dollars on the internet these days. You didn’t have to take me home just to get your fix.”
He looked like he wanted to strangle me. “I didn’t fucking touch you or your shit. I thought we already went over this?” His eyes flashed. “I’ve been there before. I wasn’t impressed.”
That stung as though he had slapped me in the face. The anger sucked the air from my lungs, and my claws came unsheathed in an instant.
I grabbed the glass in his hand with every intention of tossing the contents in his face, though before I could, he ripped the tumbler from my grasp and threw it to the floor. I stared at my failed revenge shattered on the marble but could see nothing but rage. I wanted to hurt him as much as his words had me.
I pushed him, and when he didn’t respond, I did it again. Then, I beat on his chest and tried to knee him in the groin.
When he’d had enough, he spun me around, pulled me back against his chest, and pinned my arms with one of his.
“Calm down,” he ordered.
“Go fuck yourself.” My chest heaved up and down, as I tried to fight my way out of his hold.