22. Limo and Ball Gown

TWENTY-TWO

Limo and Ball Gown

DRIFTER

I t’s been weeks—no, months—of watching Sasha. I feel like a goddamn stalker, but after the incident with her father, I haven’t been able to sleep without knowing she’s safely in her own bed. The minute her lights are turned off, I can relax. Especially knowing that I’ve installed a couple of cameras that alert me if someone shows up at her house. We should have put the cameras in sooner and then Etain would have been covered, but since she was renting, Etain didn’t think it was fair to Sasha.

I’m sitting across the street in an SUV when a limousine drives past me and parks in Sasha’s driveway. Immediately, I get out and settle in behind the bushes. I creep through the trees to jump in when her father steps out of the car. But it’s not her father; it’s a much younger man, a male version of Sasha with the same caramel-brown hair. He’s tall and lean.

From where I’m situated, I can hear him knocking on the door. Sasha steps out in the kind of dress you would see in a movie or on an actress going to the Oscar’s gala. She looks like a starlet in her shimmering silver gown, her hair up, showing off her graceful neck. Her makeup is dramatic, with a smoky, sexy vibe. Sasha is beautiful in her yoga pants or loose-fitting hippy jeans, but she’s an absolute knockout in this dress.

“Hey, big brother, right on time,” she says, greeting her brother with a hug. He hugs her back with a serious expression on her face.

“Sasha, you don’t have to do this. I can make an excuse, say you’re sick or something,” her brother says.

“Simon, you know that won’t fly. Dad will lose his mind, and Mom will make my life hell for months if I don’t show up at her charity event. Besides, we made a pact: neither of us walks into the lion’s den alone.”

“If that fucker comes anywhere near you, I’ll fucking kill him,” Simon snaps.

“Thank you, but you know he’ll come over to say hello. Keep your cool. We’ll nod politely, have dinner, and leave.” Her voice is calm as she links her arm through his.

“You go nowhere without me. Not even the bathroom. Promise me,” he pushes.

“Promise.” She forms a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“The fucker should be in prison,” Simon growls. “And Dad should be his cellmate for defending the asshole.”

Sasha stops in her tracks and waits for her brother to face her. “I don’t want to relive that night. Not now, not ever. Please, Simon, we go, we eat, we leave.”

He emits a heavy sigh. “Fine.”

Simon helps Sasha into the back of the limousine, and they take off, leaving me with a whole hell of a lot of questions and a burning feeling in my chest. Who the fuck hurt Sasha? Whoever it was is going to pay.