Tough Shit (Rejects Paradise 1)

“No shit. Really?” I question, excited with the idea of having a wild night after all the classiness of the party disappears.

“Uh-huh. Fucking epic, bro. Just you wait.”

Milo glances up once again and with a relieved sigh, he puts a little space between us and his hand raises to a much more respectable part of my lower back. “Oh, look,” he says, coming to a stop. “The waitress is back with your drink.”

Just as promised, a fruity drink waits for me on her tray and she happily hands it over after asking if there’s anything else she can do for us. Once she hurries away to take orders from the other guests, Milo leads me off the dance floor and through the massive backdoors. As we wind our way through the beautiful gardens that Charles is so proud of, I loop my arms through his so I don’t trip in the manicured grass.

“Did I mention that you look fucking delicious?” he asks.

“Me?” I scoff, gliding my eyes up and down his tall frame and taking in the suit that looks like it’s been tailored perfectly to fit his body, though I’m positive that it has. “Look at you. You look like the best kind of treat. It’s amazing you haven’t found some guy to sneak into back rooms with and screw you until you can’t walk.”

Milo laughs, scooping up a glass of who the hell knows from a passing waitress. “I’m sure I would have if we weren’t all hiding in our closets.”

“Good point. What’s the point of these parties anyway? Mom said it was some kind of tradition and as amazing as it’s been so far, it just looks like some kind of excuse to show off how much money they have.”

“Yeah,” he says. “When it comes to Charles Carrington, it probably is, but from what I’ve been able to work out, Colton’s mom used to be the one to host these elaborate parties. She was the big socialite around here. Everyone wanted to be her friend and attend the events that she went to. Her opinion meant everything, then when she left and took the girls, everything changed. That’s when Colton turned into a douche by the way. I think deep down he wanted to go with his mom but the story is that Charles demanded he stay because he needed his son to take over the family business one day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Charles misses his daughters but in this world, his daughters won’t offer him much except a pretty face to say good morning to, and an extra few faces to feed.”

My mouth drops open. “Are you serious?”

He nods. “Welcome to my world. Where the wealthy are assholes and everyone else doesn’t exist.”

“No shit,” I say. “I’m starting to see that.”

“Yeah, anyway, so everything changed. He lost a lot of business when Laurelle left, so he kept on the traditions that she put in place and somehow that managed to help. The rumor is that he does it because he’s still hung up on Laurelle and is hoping that the lifestyle might draw her back, but when it comes down to Charles, it’s about business. It’s always about business.”

“Damn … the Carrington’s are messed up.”

“Understatement of the year,” he grumbles as his lips pull up into a grin, just as amused by the topic as I am. He takes a sip of his drink and glances down at me. “So, the rest of your week seemed a little better.”

I shrug my shoulders. “The whole week was pretty shitty,” I tell him, “but there aren’t any dead bodies and I didn’t have to spend hard-earned cash on bail money so I guess it couldn’t have been that bad. It definitely could have been worse.”

“True,” he says. “After all, you are finishing off your week at the most elite party of the month while wearing a twelve thousand dollar gown.”

My mouth drops. “Twelve thousand dollars?” I shriek, struggling to keep my voice down. My gaze drops to the figure-hugging gown that’s currently wrapped around my body like a second skin. Twelve thousand dollars? Holy fuck. The only time I’ve ever seen that kind of money was when I went on a job with Nic and it was either pay up or die.

“Geez,” Milo laughs, discreetly looking around to make sure no one could overhear us. “Way to make it obvious that you’re not from around here.”

I roll my eyes. “Look at me, Milo. I’m not platinum blonde with fake boobs and a nose job. I have split ends and did my own freaking manicure, I think it’s pretty damn clear that I’m not from around here.”

“Good point,” he says as we finish the loop through the gardens. “Let’s head back up. You need another drink, and I’m starving.”