Unhinged (Unhinged #1) Page 7

  I blushed. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t that I was a prude, but I could totally picture the two of them in my head and… well… I knew I shouldn’t have been thinking about that.

  Chloe handed me a silky black wrap and I slid it over my shoulders. It wouldn’t do much against the chill in the November night air, but she had insisted it would look good.

  Vain. That was obviously what I was going for tonight, I had told her, laughing.

  “My car or yours?” I asked Aaron as I passed him on my way to the front door.

  “Mine,” he answered easily, reaching around me and opening the door.

  Aaron was the best date ever. Probably because there weren’t any expectations. We were friends and we could talk about anything and everything, which we did. From the moment we got into the car, until we pulled up to the guard station at Mr. Trovato’s estate, there was never a lull in the conversation.

  That changed when we pulled into the circular drive in front of Mr. Trovato’s house.

  “Holy shit,” Aaron whispered as he peered through the windshield of his fancy little Honda with Bluetooth and satellite radio.

  “Yep, that’s what I thought the first time I saw it,” I told him.

  Granted, the place looked even more extravagant at night. Lights were hidden in the landscape, strategically placed to show off all of the details of the mansion. There was a line of expensive cars along one side of the driveway and several men scattering in all directions, probably moving the cars to a safer place.

  A valet came over and opened my door for me, helping me out with a firm hand. I could have sworn he eyed me up and down a couple of times, but I pretended not to notice, although the sideways glance did wonders for my ego.

  Aaron was instantly by my side offering me his arm and walking me toward the steps that led to the front door. A man in a suit — wielding a gun on his hip and an earpiece in his ear — greeted us before opening the front door and stepping back so we could enter.

  I tried my best not to gape at what I saw next, but that was rather difficult to do.

  Mr. Trovato’s house was impressive on the outside, but on the inside it was… I wasn’t even sure how to explain it. It looked like something straight out of the Roman Empire. Or so it did to me. Not that I’d seen any Roman empires, but if I had, this was what I imagined they would look like.

  There were thick white columns that went at least twenty feet in the air on both sides, framing the circular entryway, three on each side. The floor looked like marble. It was a beautiful, gleaming white swirled with darker tones. An enormous sculpture of a semi-nude woman stood in the center of the entry, flanked by two grand staircases that circled up to the second floor. Somehow I managed not to whistle the way Chloe always did, but I had to say I was impressed.

  “May I take your coat, madam?”

  I turned to see another man in a suit, this one significantly older than anyone else I’d met so far. He looked like the same man I’d seen on the front steps the other day. I nodded, and he assisted in pulling the wrap from my shoulders before disappearing.

  Another man, who looked a lot like Gun Guy by the front door, made his way over to us. “Right this way.”

  I glanced up at Aaron, lifting my eyebrows in a silent “Can you believe this?” He smirked back at me, looking regal and handsome and totally at ease. As though he actually belonged in a place like this.

  I, however, did not feel like I belonged. I was suddenly self-conscious, wondering what other people thought when they looked at me. Was my skirt too high? Could they see the tops of my stockings when I walked? Did I look like a prostitute?

  I didn’t have time to ponder those questions for long though because we were on the move again, Aaron leading me as we followed behind the man in a dark suit. He took us deeper into the house, through what appeared to be a formal living room decked out with modern, white furniture that looked like it had never been used, and then down a hallway. At the end of the hall, we went up a different staircase, this one just as grand as the ones near the front door with its intricate iron railing, to the second floor and then down another long, wide hallway. By the time we arrived at our destination, I was thoroughly lost. When we came upon a set of double doors, he stopped, opened one of the doors and gestured us inside.

  Holy. Smokes.

  I didn’t stumble, and I’m not sure how I managed that. Aaron and I walked into an enormous ballroom filled with people. A waiter was standing near the door holding a tray of champagne flutes. Because social protocol demanded that I do so, I took one of the flutes, as did Aaron before we made our way inside.

  Social protocol probably didn’t demand that I down the champagne in two swallows, but I did that anyway.

  “How much money does this guy have? And why the hell didn’t he hire a better decorator?” Aaron asked, his voice a mere breath against my ear.

  Laughing and gently elbowing him in the ribs, I answered with, “A lot.”

  I didn’t know what that number was, but obviously it was enough, and Aaron did have a point. Although nice, the place felt a little stuffy to me. A little too upper crust.

  The walls donned a fancy gold and red wallpaper with thick white trim framing it. The floor was dark hardwood, with plush red carpet outlining the room. There were large gilded plaques of various designs hanging above the doors and heavy gold drapes covering the floor to ceiling windows.

  Suffice it to say, it did suit Mr. Trovato.

  I spent the next few minutes taking everything in. From the sophisticated décor to the fancy gowns on the women and the expensive tuxes on the men. As I figured, most of the people I encountered were older, and just as I thought, everyone seemed to look right past me. If it hadn’t been for a man who had bumped into me and politely apologized, I would have believed that I was invisible.

  “Hey,” a chipper female voice sounded from behind me and I turned, coming face to face with… “You must be Payton. I’m Aaliyah. Welcome to my humble abode.”

  Aaron snorted.

  “I like you already,” Aaliyah said to Aaron. “And you are?”

  “Aaron.” He offered Aaliyah his traffic stopping smile. “Payton’s gay best friend who was wrangled into attending.”

  Aaliyah’s grin was radiant, as was the rest of her. She stood just a few inches taller than me, her long, blond hair curled and hanging down her back. The dress she wore probably cost more than I made in a year and it fit her like a glove, the turquoise color setting off her bright blue eyes and olive complexion perfectly.

  “I definitely like him,” she whispered to me. “Don’t worry. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Really?” Aaron asked skeptically making a production out of looking around, earning him another laugh from Aaliyah.

  “Okay, it’s as bad as it looks. But stick around, things usually get exciting later on.”

  “Exciting? As in the old people get naked and dance on the tables?” Aaron questioned.

  Aaliyah gave my arm a gentle squeeze and laughed. “God, I hope not.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” I told Aaliyah, grinning at Aaron’s joke.

  “You, too. I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday. I had an early class and if I’m late anymore, I’m gonna get in serious trouble.”

  “No worries,” I assured her. I didn’t bother to mention to her my interaction with Sebastian, although I wanted to ask her who he really was.

  “You two have fun. I’ll catch up to you later.” Aaliyah gave my arm another friendly squeeze and then walked a few feet away, greeting one of the older couples.

  “Mr. Trovato’s daughter,” I explained to Aaron.

  “I figured as much.”

  “How so?”

  “She’s probably the youngest person in the place, and though I think your boss probably has a mistress or two, I didn’t figure her to be that young.”

  “He does not have a mistress.” I slapped Aaron lightly on the arm. I sure hoped Conrad didn’t have
a mistress.

  “Don’t be so sure of that.” The deep, rumbling voice came from behind me.

  I spun around so fast, I nearly dropped my empty champagne flute, but Sebastian retrieved it and set it on a passing waiter’s tray like he did that sort of thing every day.

  I merely stared at him, a strange tingle igniting deep in my core as I came face to face with the man I’d met just yesterday. The guy from my dream. The mechanic. He looked significantly different than the last time I saw him though. Tonight he wasn’t sporting tattered jeans. No, tonight he was wearing a tuxedo and likely garnering the attention of every woman in the place.

  The guy made a pair of worn, tattered jeans look incredible, but he wore a tuxedo better than any man I’d ever met.

  As we stood there, motionless, neither of us said anything for a few heartbeats. My pulse was racing and if it hadn’t been for Aaron’s warm hand on my back, I probably would have forgotten where I was.

  Sebastian peered over my shoulder at Aaron and I thought I saw a flash of anger glitter in his beautiful golden eyes, but it was gone as fast as it had come, leaving me to think I was imagining things.

  “Enjoy the party, Angel,” Sebastian whispered, nodding his head at me, our eyes locking briefly.

  He didn’t linger. He continued walking right past me without looking back.

  “Who was that?” Aaron turned at the same time I did, so that he could follow Sebastian with his eyes.

  “No one,” I murmured.

  Mechanic, my ass.

  Chapter Eleven

  Payton

  Two hours into the party, and I was wondering when the fun was going to start. I’d managed to drink six flutes of champagne and was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, although that hadn’t helped to alleviate the nerves that were attacking my insides. Aaron had forced me to eat some of the hors d’oeuvres, which was probably the only reason I wasn’t flat on my face at this point.

  My head was beginning to hurt from looking around the room, trying to locate Sebastian at every turn. Ever since our brief run-in, I hadn’t seen him again, but I could feel his presence. I knew he was there somewhere.

  “Care to dance?” Aaron stopped me from taking another flute from a passing waiter.

  I glared at him in warning. That earned me a smile.

  “No, I do not want to dance,” I slurred, but he just took me in his arms and led me to the center of the room.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I am not,” I argued, knowing full well that I was. I wasn’t much of a drinker, aside from a beer or two every now and again. I didn’t even like champagne, yet tonight I’d been drinking it like water.

  “Whatever you say, doll,” Aaron replied, pressing his hand to the back of my head and forcing my face to rest against his chest. He was holding one of my hands and I slid my other hand beneath his jacket, clutching his back. It probably looked intimate, but I was trying to keep from sliding to the floor and letting sleep take over. That, and being with Aaron made me feel safe.

  He pressed his lips against the top of my head as we danced around the room, the music soft and slow. The lights had dimmed a short while ago and most of the couples had migrated to the dance floor, too. As we moved, I closed my eyes, willing my brain to stop spinning.

  Aaron must have realized the effect the dancing was having on my inebriated state because he slowed even more, our feet barely moving.

  “Who was the guy from earlier?” Aaron asked, his voice low, soothing.

  “I told you. No one.”

  “Right. And I didn’t believe you. That’s why I asked again. Who is he?”

  “The mechanic,” I informed him, hating the fact that the alcohol was making my lips flap when they shouldn’t.

  “Ahh. That explains it.”

  “I don’t think he’s the mechanic,” I admitted.

  I could hear Aaron’s gruff chuckle against my ear. I amused him. I knew I did.

  I amused a lot of people these days.

  “Who do you think he is?”

  “No idea,” I told him, digging my fingernails into his back. I really didn’t want to talk.

  Aaron apparently took the hint because we spent the next few minutes slow dancing until the music disappeared. At first I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up, but then a voice came over the sound system and the lights went out, pitching the room into complete darkness.

  An automated voice started talking and several strobe lights began alternating to the bass that kicked in. What happened next was straight out of a movie. Seriously, I was pretty sure I’d seen it before in a movie. I don’t remember which one though.

  I stayed close to Aaron while the robotic voice rambled on about engines and cars and speed while a series of lights drew designs along one of the walls. There were gasps and clapping and then the lights came up to reveal a car sitting in the middle of the room.

  “Impressive,” Aaron stated dryly. “I’m pretty sure that’s been done before.”

  Another waiter approached and while Aaron’s attention was snagged by the fancy sports car, I grabbed another flute and downed it in one gulp.

  I really didn’t like champagne; tonight’s sampling only solidified that for me.

  “You better slow down,” Aaron stated firmly when he turned to look at me.

  I didn’t argue. There was no point. I just wanted to go home. I’d already been there for more than two hours and Mr. Trovato hadn’t even greeted me, although I’d seen him at least three times and I was pretty sure he’d seen me as well.

  I don’t know if he was purposely ignoring me or if it was just my imagination, but I was beginning to get frustrated. As it was, the only person who’d spoken to me all night, besides Aaron, was Aaliyah.

  Sebastian didn’t count.

  “We need to get you some water.”

  Water was good.

  Aaron was escorting me away from the crowd when a wave of nausea hit me. “I… I need to use the restroom,” I told him hurriedly.

  “I’ll take you,” he replied softly, taking my arm.

  “No,” I insisted, pulling back from him. “I’ll… I’ll be right back.”

  I needed some air and I didn’t want Aaron following me in the event that I did get sick. I met his gaze and waited until he nodded. His eyes met mine briefly, but then I took off for the door. Out in the hall, the sound of my heels on the marble floor made my ears ring, but then blessedly I was on the carpet. When I stumbled once, sliding my hand along the wall to keep myself upright, I knew I’d had too much to drink. As the stairs came into view, I suddenly wondered just how I was going to safely make it down without falling on my face and rolling my way to the first floor.

  I stopped at the top and peered down, taking a deep breath and trying to clear the fuzziness from my head. I’d walked down plenty of stairs in my life. Surely I could handle a few more.

  A strong but gentle hand gripped my arm and I looked up, expecting to see Aaron standing behind me. My mouth fell open as I stared up into those glistening gold eyes that had haunted my every thought since meeting him yesterday.

  Sebastian didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look away either. I could tell he was thinking about something, and I suddenly hoped he wasn’t thinking about giving me a gentle nudge down the stairs. But then he grinned and every thought in my brain leaked right out.

  Without saying a word, he urged me closer to the stairs, his hand sliding down around my waist as he held me close to him. With his reassuring grip on me, I managed to make it down the stairs without an ungraceful face plant and the next thing I knew, he was leading me out through a door at the back of the house, right onto a dimly lit veranda.

  I was pretty sure just the patio area was bigger than my parents’ entire backyard.

  I kept my thoughts to myself as we continued to walk to a shadowy corner, away from a few people who were milling about.

  “Thank you,” I mumbled, unable to look at him when we stopped walkin
g. I took deep, steadying breaths, willing myself under control. I was no longer queasy, but I was hot. The cool breeze did little to ease the heat that coursed just beneath my skin, but I shivered anyway.

  “What are you thanking me for?” Sebastian chuckled, the deep baritone of his voice sending a chill dancing down my spine.

  “For not letting me fall to my death down the stairs.”

  I placed my hands on the concrete railing that wrapped around the veranda, breathing slowly as I stared out into the darkness. The moon was out, casting a white glow on the trees, the moonbeam bouncing off a pond in the distance. My head was spinning, but I think it had more to do with the incredible scent of Sebastian’s cologne than the alcohol.

  Just as I had earlier, I felt his presence more than I saw him. He was standing just to my right, a step behind me which offered me a small measure of comfort. If he got too close, I feared what I might do. My body had taken on a mind of its own, ignoring all logical instruction from my brain. Being alone with Sebastian wasn’t a good thing, at least not where my common sense was concerned.

  I don’t know how long we stood there, but I didn’t move, didn’t look at him. For some reason, I was scared to make a sound, not wanting him to leave. I knew he was still there beside me because I could smell him, hear his steady breathing.

  I shivered when a gust of wind whipped behind the house, wrapping my arms around myself. But even if I froze to death, I didn’t want to walk away. I don’t know what it was about Sebastian, but I was drawn to him. Ever since we met yesterday, I’d thought about him endlessly. And now he was standing here, the silence between us surprisingly comforting, but at the same time unnerving.

  He shifted, and I thought for a second that he was going to walk away, but then his jacket was resting on my shoulders, my senses overwhelmed by him. I closed my eyes as I inhaled, letting the rich, musky scent of his cologne seep into me while the residual warmth from his body heat enveloped me. I suddenly wished his arms were around me.

  But I knew that was crazy talking.

  Several minutes passed. I could hear a few people talking, a woman laughing. The music was muted outside, but I could still make out the slow, jazzy tune.