Page 11 of Chasing The Alpha's Son
Our glances meet and we both take a deep breath.
“We can still turn around if you want?” Katie says, sounding about as nervous as I feel.
But I can’t turn around. There’s a familiar sensation drawing me to the entrance. Like an invisible rope’s been tied around my chest and is pulling me in.
“He’s in there,” I say.
And knowing what that means, Katie slips her hand into mine and together we enter the building.
Inside we’re bathed in the golden light of a car-sized crystal chandelier, and I’m hit with a wave of familiar scents. Musky and sweet. They’re the scents of Elite Pack wolves—my pack—and I feel instinctively at home, welcome even though I’m more uncomfortable than I was when Eleanor had a gun to my head. An older couple walks past, the man in a tux and the woman in a beaded sky-blue gown with a fir tossed over one shoulder. The dude gives us a knowing nod as he pushes through the next set of doors, as if we have some secret connection. I almost laugh. We may both be Elite Pack wolves, but I couldn’t have less in common with these people.
They look like they know where they’re headed, so Katie and I follow. We pass through a hall with more chandeliers, marble floors, and flower arrangements that would strike fear into the hearts of allergy sufferers. There’s a sign that says we’re heading toward the Grand Ballroom, because of course we are.
Two pack security guards stand on either side of white-and-gold doors, with earpieces and sunglasses and stern faces. Another wolf—a woman in a sparkling lavender gown, with her hair delicately arranged on top of her head, half-moon spectacles, and too much makeup—is a few feet in front of them holding an iPad. The elegant couple stop and speak to her like they’re old friends. She smiles a wide, cheesy grin and waves them through, touching the woman’s arm as they go. The security guards push open the doors and the couple disappear inside.
I catch a glimpse of what lies beyond—an overwhelming snapshot of a glittering world like something from a fairy tale—and a sneak of a scent slips through the doors…
Cherry blossom.
“Good evening, can I help you?”
Katie elbows me in the ribs and I shake myself back into the room. The woman with the updo is staring at me like I’m a stray dog trying to come inside for the night.
“We’re, um, here for the party.”
She squints and pouts her lips. “Do you have an invitation?”
“Oh yeah, I have it here somewhere.”
I fumble around in my pockets and finally produce the crumpled envelope from inside my blazer.
She takes it like it’s a used tissue and cross-references it with her iPad.
“Ah, there you are.” Her expression shifts and suddenly she’s all smiles and big welcoming eyes. “Welcome to the Yule Ball, Maximilian Remus. Have a gorgeous night.”
“Uh, thank you.”
Katie pulls lightly on my arm and we make our way to the doors.
When I was a kidThe Wizard of Ozwas one of my favorite movies, and walking into the ballroom, I’m Dorothy stepping foot in the Emerald City for the first time. The people look so suave and sophisticated, so alien. Every surface seems to shine; the ceiling is so high it might as well be the sky. Everything is over the top but ultrachic. A central dance floor is surrounded by circular tables and golden chairs where I can picture Belle and the Beast waltzing in circles while everyone watches on. Columns line the room, each punctuated with a Christmas tree overladen with silver and gold decorations. There’s a stage at one end on which a string quartet is playing gentle music, and the ceiling is lit up like the most spectacular artificial dusk you’ve ever seen: mind-blowing shades of violet and peach. It’s a winter wonderland, a high-end fantasy—it’s too much.
“Wow,” Katie says, smiling as the lights dance in her eyes, her mouth hanging open.
“Seriously.”
We take a few steps into the room and it suddenly dawns on me I have no idea what happens now. Are we supposed to mingle? Is there dancing? I’m very aware of my hands and have no idea what to do with them.
My eyes roam the busy ballroom expecting to meet Jasper’s. My heart races. He has to be here, right? He’s so duty-obsessed there’s no way he’d be playing hooky. I caught his scent, so he must be here. Unless I was imagining things? Or maybe he caught a whiff of me too and ran. But no, that doesn’t make any sense. If he invited me that means he wants to see me, doesn’t it?
I’ve been so caught up in my mental paralysis I haven’t moved more than two feet into the room.
“Come on,” Katie says, eyeing a server in a black waistcoat across the room. “I’m starving.”
She takes off and I follow, knowing I’d probably barf if I tried to eat anything right now but not knowing what else to do. We slide between clusters of party guests in expensive suits and extravagantcouture—a word I learned from Katie on the drive over. As we make our way round the room’s perimeter I keep my eye out for any familiar faces, but so far it’s just faceless rich people. Still no sight of him.
“Damn, where’d she go?” Katie says, stopping short. “She must have moved on.”
“There,” I say, spotting the server weaving through the crowd.
