Page 38 of Devious Lies (Cruel Crown)
Mouthing the words, I filled my fist with oyster cracker packets from a bowl laid out, shoved them into my clutch for later, and twisted to Chantilly. “Can I leave?”
She finally turned to me and toyed with the ends of her auburn hair. Her olive-colored eyes popped beneath her mask, and I’d classify her as gorgeous if she wasn’t such a horrid bitch to me.
A flawlessly threaded brow arched. “After you screwed up with our seating arrangements and the tablecloths, you want to leave early?”
Fuck this.
“You’re right. You know what?” I lifted my chin in Nash’s direction, defocusing my eyes because if I saw him, I’d stare like Chantilly. Or worse, perhaps, since I knew what he looked like beneath his clothes and liked it. “I should introduce myself to our boss,” I bluffed. “I’ve never met Nash Prescott before. He’s gorgeous… I’ve heard he’s even more gorgeous up close.”
It was like a game of two truths and a lie.
Truth: Nash Prescott was gorgeous.
Truth: He was even more gorgeous up close.
Lie: I had met Nash Prescott. I’d met more nooks and crannies of Nash Prescott’s body than I wanted to admit, least of all to Chantilly.
Her brows furrowed, and she looked like she was trying to work out if I was serious or not. I kept my face neutral until she cracked.
“Fine. You can leave. But don’t think I’ll be paying you overtime for tonight. The design budget is tight enough as it is.”
She’d made room in the budget for her Versace gown, but she didn’t have room to pay me four hours in overtime. Got it.
Whatever.
It was either stay and relinquish myself to Brandon’s scrutiny or leave and be free of Brandon and Nash. I chose the easy choice. The right choice.
Snatching two shots of top-shelf liquor from the bartender, I downed them both in front of Chantilly, arched a brow, then left. I kept close to the walls as I snaked my way out of the ballroom, cursing when someone spilled an entire glass of vodka on my dress.
I dabbed at it with a cocktail napkin before giving up and continuing my path to the elevators. I’d nearly reached the lobby when Ida Marie cut me off.
“Ugh.” Matching my stride, she groaned with each step. “My feet are killing me. I need a break.”
Precisely why I wore Chucks over heels. That, and I no longer owned heels. Mother would disown me if she knew.
Ida Marie flicked lint off her frilly dress and asked, “You going up?”
Out of the four others on the design team, I liked Ida Marie most. The only one who didn’t view our coworkers as competition in the quest for a promotion. Everyone wanted to be the person assigned to the following hotel so much, they lost sight of the fact that we were supposed to be focusing on this hotel.
This job.
Not some fancy upcoming Singapore location Nash’s company had sent a memo about.
“I’m headed to the fifth floor. I have to grab my work bag from the office,” I lied. “But Chantilly said I can leave after that.”
The design team had made a makeshift office out of the fifth floor. It consisted of an oversized couch, a TV, some company-owned laptops, and two desks that went to Chantilly and Cayden.
Ida Marie’s white-blonde curls bounced as she walked. “You mean she was actually nice to you?”
“I threatened to introduce myself to Nash Prescott.”
She laugh-snorted.
I stalled near the archway where the ballroom met the lobby, not
quite wanting her to follow me to the elevators and realize I wasn’t headed to the fifth floor.
“Chantilly has been salivating over Mr. Prescott since she heard he would be here tonight.” Ida Marie lowered her voice after a few heads turned our way at the mention of Nash. “Last year, she managed to get someone to take her as a date to the annual company party so she could meet Mr. Prescott. Hannah told me she got so wasted, security had to escort her out. The lone reason she wasn’t fired was because the company parties are always masquerades. They didn’t know it was her.”
