Page 128 of Fuckboy Psychos (Scarlett Force 1)
“Whoa,” I say, blinking rapidly through the rush of anger streaming from Alexei’s pretty mouth. “Aren’t you, like, a part of this crowd?”
He narrows his eyes and then looks down, doing this sexy corner of the mouth lick thing that has me squirming and checking to make sure my dress is still covering my ass. As the incomparable Lizzo once sang, If you thought that I was ratchet with my ass hanging out …
Do either of us care? Nope.
“My father is a builder, yes. And seeing as he’s from Russia and then, subsequently, New York, he would count as out-of-state, certainly. But he isn’t the same as Archer Realty or Mayor Kelly. He’s …” Alexei trails off and then pauses, turning to look at something and then cursing in what I guess is Russian.
“Alexei,” a man says, his face ruddy with alcohol, his dirty blond hair just a shade darker than the boy in front of me. Even though the man is clearly older, and slightly overweight, there’s no denying the similarities between them. This must be Daddy Dearest. “Who is this beautiful young lady you’ve brought with you?”
His accent is thick whereas his son doesn’t appear to have any accent at all. Interesting. So Alexei grew up in the States maybe?
“Papa,” Alexei says, inclining his head respectfully. He folds one arm behind his back and uses his other hand to indicate me. “This is Scarlett Force, my date for tonight.”
Just that. Nothing about how he lost a race and had no choice but to bring me. Nothing about me being poor. Nothing disparaging whatsoever. My estimation of this Alexei Grove guy grows by leaps and bounds.
“Scarlett Force,” the man says with a big, happy belly laugh. Oh, I like him already, too. Doesn’t usually happen with entitled rich fucks. Normally, I hate them—and to be honest, most other people in all walks of life—right off the bat. “What a glorious name! It’s a name that’s meant to be in lights, I must say.”
“Funny that, I had the same sentiment just the other night,” I reply with a grin, and then Alexei’s father howls with laughter, and I’m beaming brightly right back at him while Alexei offers up a tight smile in response. How is his dad so animated and he’s so … closed-off and paranoid? What the hell happened?
“Scarlett Force, this is my father, Pavel Borisov.” Alexei once again inclines his head, his eyes going wide when his father claps him good-naturedly on the back. Alexei grits his teeth, and I can see that he’s struggling a bit to control his breathing, but he doesn’t remark on the move.
“Sorry, son, sorry. I’m so sorry.” Pavel turns to me, gesturing wildly with a glass of what I think is vodka. Not tryin’ to apply stereotypes or nothin’, but that looks to be what it is. “Alexei lost his mother a few years ago, and ever since then he’s been obsessed with germs and bacteria and whatnot.”
Alexei’s nostrils flare as he gives his father a dark look.
“Please resist spilling our family history to people that I barely know,” he chastises, but his dad ignores him, draining his drink, and then turning and loudly bellowing for a waiter to bring him more.
Something about the commotion seems to have drawn Aspen and Lemon’s attention. The crowd parts, and then there they both are, standing at my right elbow.
Shit.
I grab another drink from a passing tray so that I have something to do with my shaking hand. Alexei notices, his gaze switching from me to Aspen.
“What are you doing at my party?” Lemon grinds out, and her skin—which is now a faux tanning bed orange instead of her usual white girl white—is turning red as she glares daggers at me. I just stare back at her and raise both brows as I smile, lifting my glass in salute.
“Congratulations, sweetie. When you told me that Aspen was big-time, I didn’t believe you. Still don’t, but you know, congrats anyway.”
For his part, Aspen plays the role of bored, disinterested fiancé quite well. His mouth is turned down in a slight frown, his gaze scanning the crowd like he’s already finished with this conversation. When he looks back at me and our eyes meet, I feel nothing.
Nothing at all.
I take another sip of my drink as Lemon clings to her man’s arm like I came here with the sole purpose of carting him off. You know what, little girl, you can have ‘im.
Even if his cock was thick and long and filled you up so good, and his mouth on your tits made you want to sell your soul for just another moment naked in the rain with him? Even then, Scarlett?
Even then.
“You were not invited,” Lemon snaps, letting her rage get the better of her, the way she’s always done. “Specifically.”
