Map of Fates (The Conspiracy of Us 2)

I spoke before he could say anything. “It’s okay. You really don’t have to explain.” My breath fogged the car window. “You don’t have to pretend you care.”

He took my arm, turned me roughly to face him. “That’s what you think? I stopped it because I care.” He dropped my arm, scowling, and I fixated on the cuffs of his white shirt at the wrists of his tuxedo jacket.

I looked out the opposite window, at lines of limousines and the sea of flashbulbs from tourists’ cameras. This was feeling uncomfortably like my fight with Jack. “I remember someone telling me that caring doesn’t get you anywhere in the Circle.”

“You’re misquoting me. I said being nice doesn’t get you anywhere. It’s different. But I do care, which is why I didn’t want . . .” He huffed out a frustrated breath. Colette and Elodie were halfway down the carpet now. “I drank too much, too, and I wasn’t thinking straight. I shouldn’t have pushed you and now you’re angry.”

“You didn’t push me—” I could tell I was blushing furiously. I couldn’t believe we were talking about this. And talking about it now, of all times. Elodie glanced back at the car. “Is it time for us to get out?”

“Probably,” he said. He reached past me to the door handle.

“I’m angry because you’re just as bad as everybody else,” I blurted out. “You’re entitled to feel however you want, but I don’t need to be protected from making what you think is a bad choice. It wasn’t your choice. It was mine.”

Stellan stiffened, leaning halfway across my lap. The door opened, leaving Stellan’s arm floating in midair. The driver held out a hand for me, and I took it.

Cameras turned in our direction. Stellan stepped out of the car, buttoning his tuxedo jacket and grinning at the cameras. His hair was pushed away from his face, and he looked polished and comfortable and like he belonged here. Anyone who didn’t recognize me would think he was famous and I was a random plus-one.

He offered me his arm. I took it. “Smile,” he said, the stiffness contrasting with his own confident grin. “Pretend you belong, and they’ll believe you do. That’s half the game.”

I smiled. I waved. I saw a few people notice me, then do a double take. Then whisper.

I kept my hand firmly in the crook of Stellan’s elbow as we made our way toward the couple he’d said were Circle.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean in closer. “Listen.” He smiled at a camera whose owner had run across the carpet to pause in front of us, and when it was gone, he lowered his voice even more. “I know your choices being taken away is your favorite point of moral outrage right now, but it’s not that simple. I’m pretty sure what we were about to do takes two people. That makes it my decision as much as yours. And I don’t feel comfortable taking advantage of a girl who was drunk and upset and otherwise not thinking clearly. And yes,” he said stiffly, when I tried to get a word in, “taking advantage is what it’s called when a guy has to get a girl drunk for her to look in his direction. Okay?”

“I wasn’t—” I glanced over my shoulder and smiled mechanically. A lady in an emerald-green dress was talking to a security guard, and they were both looking my way.

We were approaching the Fredericks. Wait, I wanted to say. How does that mean you feel about this? How does that mean I feel about this? Was it just because I was drunk and upset? If it was, would I still, right now, be thinking about what would have happened if we hadn’t stopped?

At least one thing was certain, though. My hand tightened around his arm, and I kept a bland smile on my face as I whispered, “I knew exactly what I was doing. There was no taking advantage.”

Stellan blinked down at me. “In that case, I don’t know whether you were doing it to make him mad, or to make yourself feel better, or you actually just had too much to drink . . .” Stellan leaned closer and sparks shot through me. “But if you’re upset because you think I didn’t want to, you should know that’s not true. Really not true.”

Flashbulbs went off in my eyes, and then the Fredericks turned.

“Mr. Frederick,” Stellan said, slipping right back into his role. “Mrs. Frederick.”

They looked annoyed at being interrupted until they saw me. Mrs. Frederick’s hand fluttered to her chest. Mr. Frederick said hasty good-byes to the knot of guests they’d been talking to. The security guard I’d seen earlier had a walkie-talkie to his mouth.

My pulse was racing, my arm still clamped in Stellan’s. Elodie and Colette were still on the steps. Anytime now, I thought in Elodie’s direction.

Before I knew what was happening, there was a crowd around us, hanging on my every word as I answered the Fredericks’ questions.

Yes, I am American, even though I’m part of the Saxon family. I grew up in the US. No, I didn’t know Eli Abraham before that night. It is horrible, yes.

Despite what the news was reporting, most of the group—who were likely all Circle, I realized—were looking at me like I was the second coming. They didn’t seem too ready to turn over one of their own, even if she was a wanted criminal. It was the guests on the periphery who hung back like they thought I might be hiding a gun in my tiny beaded bag.

I glanced again at Colette and Elodie, now standing near the front doors. Colette gave me a small nod—and then approached the security guard patrolling the side of the building and pointed to me.

The guard squinted, frowning.

Behind them, Elodie slipped around to the back of the building.

I squeezed Stellan’s arm, and he touched my hand in acknowledgment. Phase one complete. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “The only security I’ve seen are the ones standing at the front doors and a few more at the sides. They’ve let a couple people in, probably for the bathroom, so Elodie won’t seem too suspicious, but if the guards start to go inside, I’ll signal and we’ll make an even bigger scene. For now just keep on with this.”