And here’s that guy’s son, a whole fifteen years younger than him. Yep, they’re that kind of family, like one you’d find in my area of town. Like Pamela, who got pregnant with Penelope when she was sixteen.

“The girl from the club,” he says with a disarming smile, as if he didn’t know who I was when he asked to dance with me. “Your husband killed a bunch of my dad’s men. He’s pissed.”

“Not just her husband,” Aaron says, staring straight at the guy. I’m surprised to see that he’s even more protective over me than Vic is at the moment. Let’s just say, I’m not my husband’s biggest fan at the moment.

“Oh, you have a thing?” James says, pointing from me to Aaron. “I see how it works.”

Aaron’s jaw clenches, but he stays where he is, murder in his eyes. I ignore James, focused more on Vic and Trinity. James is a character type that I understand well, the privileged, cocky toxic masculine type.

It’s Trinity that’s really freaking me out.

“I can already see you’re going to give me trouble,” Victor says to her, and she throws a smile over her shoulder that makes me feel murderous. Her friends are drab and dull as beige curtains. There’s a guy she introduces Vic to named Nick, your stereotypical super gay bestie type, but he’s annoyed and preoccupied by something. Most of the girls in here are looking at my collection of men, sizing them up and trying to calculate their chances.

Everyone—even rich Oak Valley Prep girls—know that Prescott boys are the best fucks. Shit, they look even thirstier than I am, and I am one thirsty fucking bitch.

I’ve already got a headache brewing.

“I invited James because he’s the best at these games,” Trinity explains to Vic, lifting up her own booklet and then shaking it in our direction. “We have a full bar and some coke that my dad gave me for my birthday. Help yourselves.”

By coke, Trinity Jade does not mean soda by the way.

“I fucking hate this girl,” I murmur to Aaron, and he smiles. He’s been acting so differently since Kali, but I can’t seem to shake him out of it. I just keep telling myself he needs time when what he probably needs is a kick in the ass.

“I’ve hated this girl since I heard her name,” Aaron agrees, exhaling as he opens his booklet and I do the same.

It’s a character card, detailing my role in the murder, my behavioral traits, and my job.

I’ve been given the card of the French maid.

How insulting.

Looking up at Trinity, I can tell this card was not given to me at random. She handed this card to me on purpose. She’s not looking at me though, so she can’t see the death glare I’m throwing her. James can, though. He’s staring right back at me and smiling.

He may as well be Donald Asher with the word rapist carved into his forehead. My inner female animal bucks and hisses and spits, claws out, teeth bared. This is exactly the sort of guy I do my best to avoid.

“So, what the fuck do we do now?” Hael asks, moving over to the proffered bar and browsing the whiskey selection until he finds the one worth the most money. He doesn’t bother with a glass, taking the bottle by the neck and swigging a generous mouthful.

“First, I’m going to read you a list of basic character traits for every person in the room. Then, we mingle and talk, try to find out who the murderer is.” Trinity takes a seat in one of the leather chairs, a glass of wine in her hand. She’s turning eighteen today, I believe. She looks much older, the way she commands the room. “When we’re done, you can find costumes in the ground floor guest bedroom. Just simple props and whatnot but try to have some fun.”

Most of the partygoers ignore Trinity as she reads aloud the character information to a small circle around her, leaving the rest of us to do our own thing.

“God, this is fucking ridiculous,” Victor murmurs, turning to look at me with a tight smirk on his wicked mouth. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Marlene, the French maid,” I say and Hael nearly chokes on his whiskey, pulling the bottle away from his lips and looking at me with a completely different expression on his face. He looks much happier than he was a few minutes ago. “Did Trinity say something about costumes?”

“No on the costume,” Aaron says, looking at James. The boy isn’t anywhere near us, nor is he looking at me anymore. But the way Aaron stares at him, I feel like he’s sensing some type of primal male competition. He turns gold-green eyes back to me. “That James guy is so full of shit. He’s scoping you out, Bernie.”

“This could be a good thing,” Oscar says as Callum turns to him with an expression that probably mirrors my own. It quite clearly says what the fuck, man? “Go talk to him, in the name of the game. See what information you can dig up. We didn’t get bombarded by gangsters at a high school after-party for nothing. And we haven’t been left alone because Maxwell is lazy. Obviously, Ophelia had something to do with the GMP being present. Kali didn’t seem surprised to see them either.”

“Should I flash him my tits while I’m at it?” I quip and Oscar smiles tightly.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

“You fucking prick,” I snap back at him, waiting for Victor to put a stop to this shit. He doesn’t. He’s still looking at Trinity like if he stares hard enough, he’ll figure her out. I’m so jealous I can barely breathe, but I’m also too prideful to say anything right now.

“I don’t want you to talk to him,” Aaron says, his voice hard. “Not at all. What good will come of that? Bernadette isn’t our whore; we’re not here to use her on weak men.”

“Thank you for that,” I tell him, feeling this tightness in my chest when he looks at me. It’s like, no matter how much time we spend together, it isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough, but I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? When you’re in love with someone. I wonder if he’d like me to handcuff him again? If he’s still suffering from what happened with Kali, he isn’t letting on. I can’t decide if that’s because he’s doing fine, or if he’s just bullshitting himself and me both. “This game sounds stupid. I’m not the murderer anyway, so why bother to play? But if it helps Havoc out in any way, I can at least talk to the guy.”

“Have some whiskey first for fuck’s sake,” Hael says, offering up the bottle and then snatching me by the wrist at the last second. I barely have time to let out a gasp when he pushes me into the wall with his hard body, his pelvis pressed up tight against me. With one hand, he keeps my wrist encircled in his fingers. With the other, he captures me by the waist. When he touches his lips to my neck, I sag back against the wall, acutely aware of all the eyes on us.

Some people are wondering why the fuck I’m kissing Hael Harbin when I’m supposed to be with Vic. The rest are wishing I’d drop dead so they could take my place.

Then there’s James Barrasso.

He’s looking at me like he wants to take Hael’s place.

“That son of a bitch is looking again,” Aaron says as Hael kisses his way down the side of my neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes open, my fingers curled over his shoulders. A wet heat builds between my legs, making me wonder if there really is a maid costume in that room and if I shouldn’t just put it on.