We chatted as if we'd known each other for ages; he was smart and funny, the perfect distraction from a near-disastrous evening. I learned that he was Jeremy Channing, youngest son to the host, as well as the only of three sons who was not involved in the running of the multi-billion family business. He had arrived back home from backpacking across Europe two days before the party and was not happy at having been forced into attending.

"What exactly does this boyfriend of yours do for my father?"

"I'm not really sure." I knew that Jack's company did business with a lot of large corporations, but he never talked about what he actually did for them and I never asked. "We don't talk about his work that often." Or at all.

"If you were to guess, what would it be?" I couldn't be sure if it was my imagination or the way the flickering candlelight played across his face, but his eyes seemed to narrow despite the casualness of his tone.

"I wouldn't. Guess, I mean. I wouldn't." I couldn't be sure why, but talking about Jack's work caused an unease I'd never felt before. Was it the vibes I felt off Edward when he was talking to Jack? Or was it the way Jeremy was looking at me, as if he was curious about what I would say. "And what about you? Is trekking across the world what you do for a living?"

He laughed, his fingers absently running through the tips of his shoulder-length hair. "Wouldn't that be the life..." He took another puff of his cigarette before crushing it out in a glass. "I'm not sure if you could call it a job, but my only purpose in life is doing the opposite of what my father dictates." Even in the dim light, I could see his jaw tighten with what I perceived to be annoyance. It was not my imagination that every time he mentioned his father anger flared inside of him, albeit subtly and unspoken. "For two years that was being in Europe. The wayward son doing questionable things in dubious places. And like every good employee, I ensure it all gets reported straight back to him."

I smiled at him over the rim of my glass in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that followed his vehemently spoken words.

"Have you ever been to Europe, Trisha?"

"I haven't travelled much." At all... Travelling together was something Jack and I had planned when we'd first met, but it hadn't come up in a long time. Not much came up lately, there would have to be actual conversations for that to happen.

He observed me for a few seconds, the intensity of his gaze making me look down into my glass eventually.

"Would you go if you could?"

"I don't think tha..."

"If you could, Trisha. Humour me... would you?"

"Yes. Right now. Right here." I held my glass out to him and he refilled it, his eyes never leaving me. "Let me travel through your eyes and your voice and your experiences. I would very much like that, Jeremy."

▼▲▼

I'm not quite sure what it was about this girl, but I was more at ease with her than anyone I had ever met before. My entire life I had been surrounded by snakes who either worked for my father or who were only with me because they were after his money. There was something different about this girl, she saw me, not the son of Lawrence Channing. I ended up regaling her with my adventures while travelling through Europe, enthralling her with even the simplest of tales.

"You don't seem too thrilled about being here, as though you would much rather be anywhere but here." She seemed to regret her bluntness even as she said the words.

"Do I look like I do costume parties?" I gestured dramatically at my overly ridiculous costume.

"I think you look er.... racy. Why aren't you out there driving guys wild? Not just anyone can rock that burlesque look as well as you do."

Oh great! She really does think I am gay. Not just gay, a crossdresser to boot.

"Hmm... yes, somehow I don't think my father shares your sentiments." Nothing like the thought of my old man to ruin the mood, I felt anger rise from deep inside of me yet again. I shouldn't have obeyed his command for me to come home, but I never could pass up an opportunity to aggravate him, it was after all the only thing I was good at. "If I wanted his approval I would've dressed as a Wall Street broker. Better yet, maybe a gothic vampire."

"So tell me, why are you hiding?" Trisha looked at me over the rim of her glass, attempting a smile that looked every bit as uncomfortable as I felt at that moment; I instantly regretted losing control of my emotions in that way.

"Me?" I shrugged and took another swig from the bottle. Good question, why am I hiding? Because I am the cowardly son who is here so he can embarrass his father, even under great risk to his own reputation, yet hasn't the balls to do a proper job of it. "Isn't it obvious?"

"Hmm... nope." She looked at me with such interest that I could not bring myself to disappoint her with the truth.

▼▲▼

He beckoned me closer with one finger. "Shhh... it's a secret. You can't breathe a word of this to anyone. Understood?" His expression was serious, but his eyes twinkled with mischief.

I nodded as he looked around to see if anyone else was within earshot.

Then he leaned in close to me and whispered, "I'm too sexy for this crowd."

I broke out into a fit of giggles, my drink spilling down the front of my dress, making the wet fabric cling to my breasts. "Oh! This is terrible. You are terrible." I laughed as I dabbed at my dress with a napkin.

"That is going to stain. Go upstairs, up the back staircase." He pointed to a door behind us. "Then third door on your right. Use the bathroom in that suite, it should have everything you need. Use some regular vodka to remove the stain, club soda should get rid of the residue. You will find it in the fridge in the lounge area."

I started to protest, but he lifted a lace-covered finger to my lips. "If your er... er... boyfriend does show up, I will send him upstairs. Red devil, right?"

"Yes. How did you..."

"I just know. Now get upstairs before that stain dries." He shooed me with one hand as he threw his head back to take another swig from the bottle.  

▼▲▼

The stairwell was dimly lit, as was the hallway giving an air of natural serenity to the entire wing I was in, very different from the raucous party area I had left behind. It felt strange to be entering a bedroom in a strange house without permission, but the stain on my dress was drying fast and I needed to get to a bathroom. The suite was in darkness aside from a few candles scattered around in a haphazard fashion that somehow seemed anything but haphazard.

I found the vodka and club soda where he said it would be and made my way toward a bathroom large enough to fit my entire bedroom in rather comfortably. Lucky for me the stain hadn't dried and I managed to get most of it out. By the time I was done, the bodice of my dress clung tightly to my breasts, making my nipples poke lewdly through the wet fabric, but there wasn't much to be done about that, it would have to dry naturally and I was hoping that the cover of darkness in the alcove would conceal me until it had dried.

Despite being alone in the suite I shut the bathroom door so I could relieve myself while I was there; the Vodka seemed to have gone straight through me. I sighed wistfully as I allowed my eyes to sweep the tastefully decorated bathroom slowly. Dark blue and black tiled walls with grey accents made everything pulse with masculinity. Everything was classy, yet understated, from the open-plan shower to the metallic clubfooted tub. I smiled as I used the bidet – something I'd only ever seen in magazines, let alone ever used before.

An array of toiletries lined up on a shelf caught my eye as I washed my hands. You're here to clean up and get out. Why are you acting like a five-penny burglar? Despite feeling like a sleaze, I lifted a bottle of cologne off the shelf and breathed in its woody scent. If money had a scent, it would be this. I set the bottle back gingerly before turning out the light and making my way back across the dimly lit room.

▼▲▼

He strode through the archway and stood looking around, eyes narrowed as they swept the darkened alcove before settling on the only lit table in the room – mine.

"Trisha?" Arrogance radiated off him in not only his posture but the tone of his voice as he called out to her, practically ignoring the only person he could see in the room. "And of course you're not here, even after I told you to wait for me in here... fucking useless bitch."

Fucking useless bitch? She allows you to speak to her that way?

He turned his back to me, looking out over the dancefloor as he pulled out his phone, turning back sharply as the small white bag on my table started to ring. Olly Murs' Troublemaker? I found myself smiling at her choice of ringtone despite my annoyance at the devil making his way toward my table.

"The girl this belongs to, did she say where she was going?" He lifted the bag as he spoke, his attention going from the bag to the tables surrounding us, then back to me.

"Not really." Not a lie. "You missed her by no more than a minute." Also true. Not my fault he hadn't asked the right question. I took another swig from the bottle before holding it out to him. "Want a drink? You look like you need one."

He shook his head, looking me up and down the way I would imagine a starving man would look at the eel on his plate if it started to wriggle around. "If she comes back here..."

"I'll be sure to tell her the devil's been looking for her."

He nodded, looking down at his phone, its luminescence casting distorted shadows across his masked face as he walked back out toward the party. "Dumb bitch should've stayed where I told her to."

I dare you to turn back and say one more derogatory thing about her... go on, I need one more reason. 

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