First Taste (The Lust List: Devon Stone #1) (13 page)

But she lets out a choke of a laugh. “Do you seriously think I grew up daydreaming about mixing cocktails for drunk people? Getting hit on by pushy men? Damn Olivia, we live in the same apartment, so you know I’m not exactly living in luxury. I moved a thousand miles away from my family to make it big like every other failed actress in this place. I’ve spent plenty of time second-guessing my choices and putting myself down for thinking I could amount to anything. I should have been like you. I should’ve gone to college, stayed closer to home, been more grateful for the life I had. But now it’s too late to go back because then they’d all know my high hopes were a disaster. So I’m Happy Maddie. Things are just peachy. No battles here.”

We drive in silence for the next few minutes. Now I feel bad. How many times this week have I made assumptions that have come back to bite me in the ass? First with Devon—more than once. Now with my own best friend. I’m on a roll.

“I’m sorry,” I finally say. “I’ve always admired you and how easy you make it all seem. It never even occurred to me that…”

“It’s okay,” she says. “It’s why I want more for you. I know you can break your old habits. If you let go of your obsessions and try new things, maybe you’ll feel more comfortable with yourself. And more fulfilled with your life.”

It sounds nice, but…

Maddie keeps going, “You have to start small though. Stop with the incessant alarms that dictate what you do and when. Then stop overanalyzing every detail. No stringent routine or cell phone reminder can tell you who to be. Take control. It’s your life to live. Try being impulsive. Some spontaneity can go a long way.”

She says it like I avoid all those things, but I don’t. I mean, look at this week with Devon. Everything I’ve done with him has been over-the-top and mostly unplanned.
And look where it got you.
I basically accused him of being a criminal and a man-whore. Not that he didn’t supply plenty of evidence to back those claims, but even when I tried to let go the other night on the yacht, it backfired. Now I don’t know where we stand.

“The internet seems to think I’m the girlfriend of one of the richest celebrities in the country. How’s that for starting small?”

“It doesn’t matter what they think. What’s the truth?”

I shake my head as I near the entrance to the Stone mansion. Both sides of the road are lined with cars and people. Tons of paparazzi with their obnoxious cameras, of course. But there are others. Fans? Some look like everyday people out for a walk, but others are dressed extra nice, like they’re hoping for a last second invitation inside. A few people even hold signs that shout bold-lettered salutations to the different celebrities they expect to be in attendance. I’ve seen these same groups of people alongside the red carpet coverage on TV. In person, it’s bizarre. But what’s even more surreal is how Maddie and I easily approach the gates, get a quick nod from Roger, and effortlessly gain access into one of the most coveted events of the year.

“The truth is…” I’m afraid to admit how much fun I’m having. Being known as Devon’s girlfriend—being recognized as such? I want that. I want him. But what comes with that? The hassle, the exposure, the lack of privacy, the world knowing who I am. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

We’re probably the only people pulling in and parking our own car, and better yet, my little sedan stands out like a pimple on prom night. We pull to the side of the house where few will even notice us, and the second I step out of the car, I twist my left ankle.
That took no time at all.
And just as my poor feet were finally feeling better from the last time I braved heels. I knew it would happen, but there’s no way I’d get away with wearing ballet flats in this dress at this party. Walking inside, through a side door leading straight into the kitchen, I try to hide my limp. It’s too early for this.

All was quiet outside, but inside, it’s bustling with chaos already. Our catering chefs are preparing the first trays of hors d’oeuvres to be ready the moment our guests arrive. Plates and glasses are being polished to perfection as others carry cases of bottles to the party room. Celia is standing in the center of the room supervising everyone’s work when she spots us coming in.

“Oh, my girls are here!”

I rush over ready with excuses. “I’m so sorry we’re late. We must have underestimated the time we needed, and then we were held up by—”

Celia grips each of my shoulders. “Whoa there. Lighten up. You’re at a party!” She points Maddie and I toward the door leading out into the ballroom. “Let’s start with drinks.”

We head toward the bar to get Maddie set up at her post. The house isn’t too crowded yet, but it’s early. The deejay is playing a quieter indie song, and the guests that have arrived are in clusters speaking in hushed tones. A few servers with trays offer them food on little white plates.

At the bar, staff mixes drinks, and Maddie excitedly hurries to her side of the high top counter. I hand her my purse to hide underneath along with her own.

I expect Celia to give me some sort of task next, but instead, she says, “A round of shots. Let’s go with Fireball to get us started on a good note.”

As though there’s nothing odd about the request, Maddie pours a couple ounces of amber liquid into glasses, and we each take one.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean, we’re working, and…” I trail off as both women drain theirs in unison and stare at me waiting.

“If you’d rather deal with tonight completely sober, that’s your call,” Celia says. “You’re about to deal with half of Hollywood, your boyfriend, and Keenly who’s in quite the mood. You should have seen him throwing a tantrum earlier about the centerpieces—something about roses and incompetence.”

The orchids. I can’t help but smile about that.
Thanks Devon.

“Say no more.” I empty my own glass, wincing from the brief burning of cinnamon. “I’ve never been a more awful employee.”

Celia laughs, “Consider it personality reinforcement. You’ve got to have a great face at these parties to blend in with the guests. Liquor makes that easier, so the way I see it, we all owe it to our jobs.”

“And what exactly is my job here tonight?”

She glances around the room like she’s undercover and looking for anything suspicious. “We will be making sure everything is running smoothly. So mingle. Wander through the crowds. Make sure the food is fresh, the guests are happy, and the staff is smiling. That’s all.”

“That’s all…” I look around. There are so many beautiful people here. Women wear gowns that must be custom-made to fit only their bodies, and they sparkle from an array of jewels. They’re flawless—the diamonds
and
the women. The men are sporting the nicest tuxes I’ve ever seen. This isn’t some high school dance. Everyone is a cookie cutter copy of a magazine cover. This really is the easiest paycheck I’ve ever made. I could see myself making a career out of this assistant to the assistant thing.

After my first round through the party, I drop into one of the stools across from Maddie to rest my throbbing feet. My hurt ankle shoots pain up through my leg and reminds me of sitting outside with Devon by the pool and him plunking my feet into the cold water. I haven’t seen him here tonight. Did he skip the party? Did he do it because of me?

“Need another shot?” Maddie asks me while simultaneously pouring Scotch on the rocks, handing it to a server, and getting an order from a guest who looks familiar. I can’t pinpoint him though. After serving him his requested Bourbon cocktail, she pours a clear liquid into a glass and sticks it in front of me without waiting for my answer.

I shake my head. I really shouldn’t, but the first shot is making me feel more relaxed. Maybe a second would make it easier to ignore my ankle. I drink it quickly knowing I’ll probably regret it. “You know, I can’t name most the people here. You’d think my mind wouldn’t be drawing blanks.”

“It’s your nerves. Let me help. She tilts her head toward the guy she just served. Werewolf Chronicles. Cole Hudson.”

“Holy shit, it is!” I say that a little too loudly and clasp a hand over my mouth. Cole-effing-Hudson is two stools down talking to some other guy. I’ve only ever seen him on his show, and I don’t watch it that often. In person, he’s got more tattoos than I remember, and he’s much taller.

“Over by the side wall,” Maddie says.

I follow her gaze. “Bia,” I answer. And holy hell, it is. The internationally famous pop singer is accepting a plate of food from one of the servers while talking to a woman I don’t recognize. “Who’s that with her?”

“Hayley Wade. Remember that old band Seventh Inferno? Her dad was that Razor guy.”

“Didn’t he just die?” Hayley doesn’t look like she’s mourning. Then again, maybe she relies on the same
personality reinforcements
as the Platinum Planning staff.

“He did. But I don’t think they were that close. Besides, she’s with Kaidan.”

“Devon’s brother?” I turn back to Maddie and can almost predict exactly what she’s about to say.

“Yep. So screw you both. My chances with a Stone brother are ruined.”

I laugh at her predictability while she pretends to pout.

“Maybe they have another sibling we don’t know about hiding under the staircase or something.”

“One can only hope. Speaking of, don’t turn around, but your man is here.” She tilts her head forward indicating he’s somewhere behind me.

I turn anyway and find myself frozen. He’s stayed true to his ‘don’t-give-a-damn’ style, wearing a sleek, dark gray suit jacket over a vintage t-shirt and designer jeans. Even being the most underdressed person here, he still seems to fit right in. Surrounded by a cluster of guests, they’re all focused on him, entranced by whatever he’s saying.

I find myself smiling. I can’t help it. Someone as relaxed and natural as he is, he has a presence that can make anyone feel secure and important.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he looks up from the group and immediately meets my eyes. I’m equally relieved and distressed that he showed up. At some point, I’ll have to confront him. But now’s not that time. I break our eye contact and turn to Maddie. “That reminds me. I have work to do.”

I get up and quickly walk the opposite direction from him. Intending to check on the guests in the party room upstairs, my foot barely hits the bottom step when I hear someone come up from behind me.

“Hello again, lovely.”

I turn to find Calvin Stone swiftly approaching. I’m not exactly relieved as I take note of the glazed look in his droopy eyes and his sloppy grin.
Not like Devon at all.

“Hi,” I say meekly and take a step away to leave. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Olivia.”

He takes my hand and kisses it. “Of course we’ve met, sweet thing. Were you on your way to meet me upstairs.”

I back away. Clearly, I’m not who he thinks I am. “Umm, no. I’m going back to the kitchen to work.”

I start to walk away, but he follows closely. Who knew this huge foyer could feel so tiny?

“Not so fast,” he slurs. “You look like you need a Calvin hug, don’t ya?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you though.” Gross.

He doesn’t take no for an answer and steps in front of me. I’m between him—reeking of liquor—and the cool wall behind me. He presses his hand to the wall, his fingers inches from my head. He reminds me of high school boys leaning against their lockers, gazing at their cheerleader girlfriends. It only makes this creepier.

“I’d love to see that pretty mouth smile,” he says quietly. I try to hide my revulsion. “It’s a shame I’m with my sweet, true love, Serena. You and I could have had a good time together.”

I say nothing. I mean, what the hell is he doing? He takes my silence as an invitation to continue.

“Are you one of Greg’s people?” Now it makes sense that he’s old friends with Keenly—a creeper and an asshole. “Great party here tonight. Good work.”

I clear my throat. “Thank you. I’m not sure Devon’s as excited for tonight though.” Where’d that come from? Devon made his distaste for this event pretty clear, but who am I to throw him under the bus? I said it before I could even think it. Adrenaline? Alcohol? Whichever, now that it was out in the open, I anticipated his reaction.