Conceal

“I told you I’d be here.”

“Yes, but you never know with you. Although, come to think of it, it is a party with booze, so maybe I’m not surprised at all.”

River cringes at his words while shaking her head and leaning up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss hello.

“Ahh, there he is, the dick. I almost forgot you were alive. Couldn’t keep him hidden for long,” I jest.

“What are you doing here? You hate these things. You prefer to drink when there isn’t a cause.”

“Oh, come now, brother, I like to drink and party any way I can.” The verbal sparring between my brother and me is getting old. He’d said he was done, but I guess the habit is too hard to break because here he is, being an ass again. My stance is, if he fires at me first, I will always fire back. So here we are, in front of hundreds of guests, going at it.

“This is true,” he retorts.

“Oh, stop, you two,” River pipes up, and I turn to face her. She looks as gorgeous as ever. Young and full of life.

“You look gorgeous, sis.” I lean in and give my brother’s fiancée a second kiss on the cheek.

“I’m not your sister yet.”

“Semantics.”

“I prefer him to call you sis. Maybe then he’ll remember his place and stop ogling you,” Grayson adds.

“Down, boy. It’s not my fault your fiancée is stunning.” I swear Grayson looks like he’s about to murder me. River reaches her hand out and touches his arm. I watch as all the anger leaves his body with the one touch.

“Well trained.” I laugh at them, and River rolls her eyes at me.

“Don’t you ever stop?” Grayson asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. And on that note, as amazing as it is to see you, I’m going to the bar to get a drink.”

“Did you drive?” he asks, knowing full well I did.

“Yes, Dad.”

He raises a brow. “Don’t drink too much.”

His condescending tone makes me ball my fists, but I do nothing. I won’t lose my cool here. That would prove him right.

“As you wish,” I mock, using humor and sarcasm to mask the pain I feel inside for how little he thinks of me.

“Seriously, Jax.”

“Jeez, Gray, I’m not a complete idiot. Even though you treat me like I am.” I cross my arms at my chest and wait for his next insult. I’m prepared to spar.

“Start acting like an adult and I’ll treat you like an adult,” he finally says. I open my mouth to send back a witty reply, but he cuts me off. “You’re Icarus. You think you’re indestructible, but eventually, you’ll fly too close to the sun and burn.”

“Fuck you, Grayson.”

River steps forward. “You guys have to stop fighting. We’re in public.” River, the voice of reason.

“Fine.”

“If you need us to drive you home, don’t be too proud to ask.”

“Good to know. Now, I’m going to get that drink unless there’s anything else you want to add.”

“No.”

“Great.” I don’t bother with formalities like saying goodbye and whatnot.

I turn and walk toward the bar. When the bartender looks at me, I order my usual. Tequila. Might not be the drink of choice at one of these events, as most are drinking champagne and scotch, but I’d rather have tequila any day of the week.

With my drink now in hand, I wander around the room. There’s only one person I’m looking for, and it only takes me one lap before I see her.

She’s dressed in the normal skintight black dress that hugs every inch of her body. This must be the uniform, and I want to thank whoever suggested it.

She’s gorgeous.

Even with drinks in hand, she’s more stunning than anyone else in this room. There are plenty of women here, dripping with diamonds, makeup done, gowns that are the highest couture, yet they don’t hold a candle to her. Seconds go by, becoming minutes, as I watch her. I’m a voyeur, studying her every move. I watch as she hands off the drinks to the patrons; I watch as she takes orders from another group of men, and I watch as they look at her the way I look at her, and I don’t like it. Yet as we all stare, she doesn’t have a care in the world. Until she hears a sound. I hear it too. It’s the shutter of a camera taking pictures. The sound echoes through the air.

Flick.

Flick.

The group of men standing next to her is the primary focus of the photographer. She takes a step back from the crowd. Her face has turned a pale, ghostly white. She tries to stay calm, but I watch as her chest rises and falls, and then she hands off the last drink before turning and walking faster toward where I assume the kitchen is. What’s that all about?