Page 114 of Manic

Stupid, stupid feelings.

“How long do you think it’ll take before everyone’s drunk and fighting?” I whispered.

The corner of Manic’s mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. As we sat near the middle of the table, relief swept over me when Amelia and Grave settled on the other end.

“Fighting?” Manic whispered. “No fighting, but I give it an hour before someone’s drunk and bringing up the Irish. That should be interesting.” His tone shifted into something lighter, almost mocking as his arm settled on the back of my chair. “Ronan will have two or three drinks and disappear. Elowen will have one and pretend she likes our family. Naomi will have several, sending her voice rising to a level that’s almost… ear splitting. We’ll be lucky to make it out alive.”

I laughed to myself and kept my gaze on the table.

Once dinner started, a few minutes quickly turned into an hour. Then two. After eating and cutting an obnoxiously large birthday cake for Naomi, everyone continued their mingling.

Hardly anyone acknowledged me besides Naomi and Manic, which was fine. I didn’t need to talk to anyone. If anything, all it did was allow me to breathe as Amelia avoided me the entire night.

I stood near the windows with a glass of wine, fixed on the stars that now shone across the front drive while music thumped the walls. It was… definitely a party.

Manic leaned against the wall, checking his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time, before casually scanning the room. He seemed relaxed, but something about his demeanor made my skin buzz. Even though we’d been here for almost three hours, he only had two drinks. The whiskey in his hand was still full. His attention swept to the grand staircase, his mouth flattening.

“Have somewhere to be?” I asked.

His eyes flicked to me just as Naomi called my name.

“I need a smoke break,” Manic mumbled. “I’ll be right back. Stay with Naomi.”

“Uh… okay,” I said in confusion, then turned to Naomi as she approached with a beaming smile.

“You like chess,” she said breathlessly, “and I need an escape. Do you want to play a game? I haven’t played in forever, and everyone else is too drunk.”

I laughed. “Sure.”

When Naomi had spent those mornings at the penthouse, we’d discussed our favorite games. I’d mentioned chess, and she’d gotten overly excited. She’d learned years ago and was begging for another player. Luckily for her, I hadn’t played a game in months and was eager for something to do other than stand here all night.

“Perfect,” Naomi said excitedly, grabbing my arm.

I fell into step beside her and watched Manic slip from the room. I expected him to step outside for that smoke break he’d insisted on, but he glanced around one last time and darted up the grand staircase instead.

My eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a balcony he liked?

Hopefully he wasn’t doing anything foolish, like entering his father’s office while he was distracted with guests. Besides the obvious mafia paperwork, what else did Ronan keep in there? The single, disruptive thought had my skin pebbling.

“You have no idea how excited I am to have another player. After Manic and Grave moved out, I haven’t had anyone to play with,” Naomi complained.

I wanted to follow Manic, but Naomi led me toward a square wooden table with a fancy chess board near the back of the sitting room. An elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling, its light cascading in every direction. A fireplace sat on one wall, surrounded by leather couches filled with more of their family members. Amelia’s eyes clashed with mine, but I ignored her and sank into a chair even though betrayal clawed at my insides.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m here then,” I said lightly.

Naomi dropped into the chair across from me, her voice dropping. “Listen, I love my family, but all they want to talk about is mafia politics. It’s nice having someone with real interests around here.”

I snorted and glanced at the board—at the white and black marble chess pieces. My heart rate picked up, bile twisting my stomach at the thought of my admirer’s gift. An involuntary lump lodged in my throat, my fingers trembling as that need for confrontation slid into the forefront of my mind.

And now, all of a sudden, everything felt like too much.

Manic being my admirer and mafia politics and Amelia. My parents. Dmitri, even. It felt too constricting, my future uncertain. My life wasn’t my own, and it slapped me in the face as I stared at the elaborate chess board. I was just a piece in their game.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Was that all I was to my admirer—to Manic? It made me sick just thinking about it. My hands shook as panic and frustration overwhelmed me, my lungs burning for relief.

I couldn’t fucking breathe.