“Get out.”

I’d been tensing the more she talked. Every word, the less air I had in my chest. My lungs were fully depleted. Hearing Kash’s growl gave me a reprieve. I bent over, gasping for oxygen.

Martha gave me a distracted frown before focusing on Kash. “What?”

“Get the fuck out of my villa.”

She turned to square off against him, lifting her chin. “Kash.”

Even her tone sounded condescending.

She was in trou-uh-ble.

“Get out.” He growled again. “Now.”

She just shook her head. “There will be expectations of her now. No one’s informed her. She has to know before she goes out there—”

“She’s not going out there alone. She’ll be with me. Her father is making the announcement. That’s it. She can be there if she wants, she can be gone if she wants. She doesn’t have to do a damn thing, and you’re going to back the fuck off if you think you’re going to start ordering her around.”

Now she got it.

Now her eyes widened.

Now she stepped back.

Now she was wary.

Now was too late. Kash was almost in her face. He was restraining himself, but still closing in.

I whispered, “If I were you, I’d make a run for it.”

She gave me an incredulous look, those eyebrows shooting up, but heeded my warning. She was gone within a second.

“You okay?” He drew me to him, folding me into his arms, one hand coming to cup the side of my face.

It felt better, feeling him, and I tipped my head up to smile at him. “I am now.”

His eyes darkened. “You are always.”

“Always.”

We shared a grin before he groaned, stiffened, and dipped his head into the crook of my shoulder and neck. “She’s not totally wrong. We have to make appearances tonight.”

I smoothed a hand down his back. “If you stick with me, we’ll be fine.”

And the funny thing was that I believed that. I really did. Everything would be fine. I wouldn’t enjoy the night. I never did, with big parties, but I understood why my father was doing this. It was time. And with that reassurance in my head, I trusted that all would be fine as long as Kash was next to me.

I was wrong.

FIFTY-TWO

I broke the “Be with Kash at all times” rule within the first hour.

He got called away for a security briefing, and my stomach growled. And me being the super smart one, I went for brunch. But—score again!—I snuck in. Grabbed a fancy-looking doughnut, a coffee, an apple for the nutrition gods, and got back to the villa with nothing happening.

I could hear the energy outside, the conversations, laughter.

It got louder and louder as the day went on.

Chrissy texted to check in. I was fine, and that appeased her. She was getting fitted for a dress for the whole day. Matt checked in too. He was at the main house, his friends had just arrived, and he wanted to know if I wanted to come join. I declined, stating I was getting ready in Kash’s villa.

To an extent, I was. Sorta.

I’d had all my fittings the week prior, and one of Martha’s team members brought over a few different options for me to wear for the day. Actually, they brought more than a few options. I had a whole rack. Three different outfits to choose from for breakfast. Three more for brunch, and four different dresses for the evening.

Hair was scheduled in the morning, in Quinn’s bedroom, but they should have known I wouldn’t go there. I could do my own hair. How bad could it be? Pin it up. Put in a fancy brooch, and voilà. Fashion-magazine ready.

Wrong. So wrong.

I was panicking by around two o’clock. Kash was still doing his thing, whatever that was, and my hair was flat as a pancake. I needed help, stat.

My options were limited. My mother, but I didn’t want to endure any griping she might do about the party in general. Matt, who … was probably wasted and balls deep in some girl. Let’s be honest here. So I called Torie.

“What’s up, superstar?”

Music sounded from where she was. I frowned. “Are you working?”

She laughed. “Hardly. But kind of. Your man wanted me at your shindig in case you needed any help.”

She was a gift.

“Know anything about hair?”

She laughed. “I don’t, but my roommate’s a hair stylist. Want me to sneak her in?”

I hesitated, but decided. “Yes. Give me her name first, though.”

Tamara Harris.

She was roommates with Torie—

“What’s your last name?”

Torie chuckled. “Hanson.”

Right.

After I did a quick search for her on my own, sending Kash the details of what was happening, she was flagged through, and an hour later I was looking back and forth between the two. Tamara had platinum blond hair that framed her face so it looked like a heart. She had plump lips, heavy red lipstick, smoky eye shadow, and thick eyeliner. She was wearing a plaid cropped skirt and a white button-down shirt, tied at the waist. Black hooker boots that ended at her calves.