Page 123 of Obey

I shift, rolling my shoulders to keep from tearing at the collar.

I want out.

A waiter passes by, and I exchange the glass for something much stronger before he can escape. Then I hear her fucking voice.

“Elias.” My name rolls off her tongue like it’s a dare, French vowels curling around it. I don’t have to look to know who it is.

Vivienne Devereaux. Heiress. Socialite. Persistent as hell.

She’s been circling me for the last three galas. Always choosing the exact angle where Nate’s distracted, Jace’s charm is pulling focus, and I’m left as the lone shadow in the corner.

Tonight’s no different.

I glance down just enough to acknowledge her. “Vivienne.”

“You look positively suffocated,” she purrs, her manicured hand grazing my forearm like she has the right. “Poor thing, I came to rescue you.”

“I don’t need rescuing.” My voice comes out flat, clipped, a stone wall against her syrup.

But she doesn’t back off. This kind never does. She leans closer, perfume sweetly thick, eyes sharp as her diamonds.

“Of course you don’t. But it must be exhausting to pretend at civility when you’d rather…” Her eyes drop, slowly taking their time. “…devour.”

The bourbon burns down my throat, not nearly enough to drown the irritation curling in my gut.

Across the room, Nate’s eyes find mine, and he frowns as soon as he notices who’s in front of me. But just as he excuses himself to intervene, Vivienne’s father materializes at his elbow, dragging him into conversation with some tech mogul.

Vivienne’s smile widens as her eyes cut over to Jace, who is already striding over. His face is openly hostile as he watches her, but like Nate, he gets intercepted. This time by Vivienne’s mother, who latches onto Jace’s arm with practiced precision.

I watch his smile tighten, but the territorial heat in his eyes doesn’t fade. He can’t escape, but his attention remains fixed on us.

How fucking perfect.

Vivienne steps closer, her body nearly flush against mine, and I can smell the champagne on her breath.

“Tell me, Elias.” Her voice drops to a murmur, her lips too close to my ear. “What does it take to make a man like you relax?”

I step back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Nothing you’re offering.”

Her smile doesn’t falter, but her chin lifts a fraction. She opens her mouth to push further when salvation comes, heels clicking softly against marble.

“There you are.”

Sloane strides toward me, and everything else drops away.

The gown clings through the bodice, sculpting her waist before flaring over her hips in a glittering emerald sweep. One bare shoulder catches the chandelier light, drawing my eye down the elegant line of her neck to the soft, full curve of her breasts, the structured fit of the dress doing nothing to hide how beautifully made she is.

Her deep brown skin glows beneath the crystals, bronze and gold rising through it like heat, making the emerald look almost wicked against her. Her black hair falls in glossy, sculpted waves around her shoulders, and the nude-and-gold shimmer of her makeup only sharpens the temptation of her mouth and the steady confidence in her gaze. Gold jewelry flashes at her ears, her throat, her wrist, just enough to catch the light without competing with her.

My hand tightens around the bourbon glass.

Fuck.

Jace had warned me. He hadn’t warned me enough. She looks expensive. Dangerous. Completely at home in a room built to make people prove they belong.

And she’s mine. Ours.

Vivienne follows my gaze, and her smile holds for half a second too long.