Third Degree (The Lust List: Devon Stone #3) Read online

  “Family drama.” Devon smooths his hair and straightens his tuxedo jacket. “For once it had nothing to do with me.”

  “Good…” Not sure I want to know what other issues his family is having. I think it’s normal for them. “We ready to go? Mark out there?”

  “Actually, I’m driving tonight.” Devon jiggles his keys for emphasis. “Thought it would be better if it’s just you and me.”

  But Maddie needs a ride I’m sure. I’d feel awful making her go by herself. As soon as I turn her way and open my mouth to protest, she speaks up. “I have a ride tonight. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. I’m riding with my hot date.”

  Hot date? She hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone. I’m glad my guest list was unlimited, and now I’m curious what new guy she’s got in her life.

  I grab the clutch Caly assigned to me featuring similar embellishments as my gown, toss in my phone, and give Maddie a quick hug. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

  Devon leads me out to his Camaro and opens the passenger door for me. “Oh wait.” He pushes past me and leans into the car, pulling out a giant bouquet of white roses. Handing them to me, he speaks sincerely. “I need to apologize for last night. A lot happened. I shouldn’t have shown up here and brought you into my mess.”

  I’m glad he did. I want him to know he can rely on me. But seeing him like that… I can’t demand that he change for me. I just have to hope he’ll do it for himself.

  “Thank you, for these. I think we can talk about the rest later tonight.”

  He spreads his lips as if readying to say more, but stops and motions for me to get in the car instead. “Let’s not be late to your big event.”

  The first time I came to Beauchamp Towers, it was like any other ridiculously nice hotel. Valet greeted guests out front. The hotel was pristine and inviting. Everyone seemed friendly.

  But tonight it’s transformed into a secured location exclusive to only those select, important people. The front entrance is closed off by metal barriers. Backdrops featuring logos for YOUTHelp, Stone Records, and others sponsors span one wall, and a red carpet leads the way to the front doors. We pull around to the side where valet waits. They open the doors, welcoming us, and take the car while Devon and I proceed to the guest entrance.

  “You’ve never walked a red carpet before.” Devon holds my hand tighter. “You don’t have to say anything. Just keep your head up.”

  And don’t trip.

  First, we’re greeted by staff wearing earpieces and holding clipboards. “Good evening Mr. Stone and Ms. Margot.” How awesome, we didn’t have to tell them who we are.

  As I step onto the famous red carpet walkway, the aura of importance seems to wash over me. I don’t necessarily feel more confident, but just having people treat me like I’m somebody is beyond my wildest dreams. Soak it all in. This fifteen minutes of fame is bound to run out at some point.

  Devon does the honors of shining his brilliant smile at the media. He wraps an arm around my waist. “Smile for the cameras,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “And imagine doing this hundreds of times.”

  It must get old quick, but I love him for sucking it up and playing his celebrity part for me.

  We stop for another camera, and I look up at Devon in time to catch him checking me out instead of looking out at the crowd.

  “Hey.” I give him my best flirty smile. “Thank you.”

  He leans down and kisses me. A whistle from the crowd makes me want to rush through the rest of this slow walk inside.

  The next camera flashes and a Hollywood news reporter asks Devon about recent rumors revolving around the Stone family.

  “Aside from being a sponsor, Stone Records is completely irrelevant tonight. This is Olivia’s night, and it’s all about the YOUTHelp Foundation. Let’s focus on that.”

  His smile and self-assurance don’t waver as he firmly turns them down. I’m in awe by the power behind his voice. This is how the Stone family gets whatever they need. It’s all about their confidence and the sense of authority they take on when they’re in the spotlight.

  Finally we get inside and the party is in full swing before us. We don’t make it six steps before we’re crowded by others.

  A guy in a gray tux with slicked back brown hair grabs Devon’s hand shaking it enthusiastically. “Devon. Great to see you here. How are you? Kaidan? I heard—”

  “We’re good. This is Olivia.” He presses his hand to my back in a gesture meant to bring focus to me while making it clear I’m his.

  He continues to boast about me and talk about the gala, while diverting all attention off him. As we make our way through the quickly filling room, I notice just how many celebrities are present. The R&B superstar Bia says hi to us, and Devon introduces me to the guests that accompany her—Ethan Beckham and Zoe North. Ethan, I recognize, and hold back a laugh as I remember Maddie should be here soon. She’s going to freak. Zoe, on the other hand, I don’t know, but according to Devon, we’ll all know her very well soon. The fiery redhead is determined to make her second big break after a former stint as a child star. As we talk, I remind myself tonight, I’m just like them. We’re all here for the same purpose, and no matter how out of place I am, Devon is making sure everyone leaves knowing my name. It takes me a while to accept what’s happening here. Devon Stone is acting like the perfect gentleman.

  We find our table, and I sit down, taking in the scenery while Devon finds us something to drink. Everything is done up in creams and purples to reflect the YOUTHelp logo. The table’s centerpieces are simple flower arrangements of white roses and lilies, and next to them a large wooden placard showcases photos of victims—young kids and teenagers who went through what Jared experienced. I spin the surprisingly heavy placard around to the other side and find my own brother’s face staring back at me. A punch to my gut that I can’t fully process as Natalia swoops in beside me and sits down in Devon’s seat.

  “You look…phenomenal.”

  I knew Jared would come up a lot tonight. I clench my fists, swallow the pain, and focus on what’s important.

  I smile at Natalia. “Thank you. And thanks,” I look around the grand room, “for all of this.”

  “Oh please, my job was to wrangle you here. The planners and event committees—and Rhyanne, of course, they’re the ones to thank. Speaking of, come meet her. I’ve told her all about you.”

  Natalia pulls me from my chair, and I follow hoping Devon gets back quickly with a strong drink. We weave through the crowds moving toward a stage until we’re face to face with a tall, classy-looking woman wearing a black strapless gown with elbow length gloves.

  “Rhyanne, this is Olivia Margot. Famous girlfriend of Devon Stone and my favorite guest of honor tonight. Olivia, this is Rhyanne Phoenix, my beautiful, wonderful boss.”

  Rhyanne’s gloved hand shakes mine. “Natalia here is always a charmer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Rhyanne’s presence is dominating. She has a certain grace and authority about her, which makes sense being the president of a nonprofit that dishes out harsh truth and advocates for a misunderstood minority. I know her though. Rhyanne Phoenix isn’t just a nonprofit founder, she’s an actress. And not just an actress, she’s best known for being the first transgender woman to be cast in a lead role in a network drama. The show she was on won all sorts of awards and lasted for ten seasons. I’m an idiot for not remembering her name before now, but seeing her, I’m suddenly far more excited about everything that’s been going on, as well as everything to come. Rhyanne is someone who can get things done.

  “It’s an honor to meet you.” I’m holding back a maniacal grin. I want to hug her. Instead, I try to keep it cool. “Natalia’s been great this week. It’s incredible how much was accomplished in such a short time.”

  We make small talk for another minute before Rhyanne’s pulled aside by an associate. I thank Natalia again for choosing me and make my wa
y back to Devon. He’s standing by our table talking to other guests. When he spots me, he holds his arm out to embrace me and hands me a glass of wine that I graciously accept. Tonight’s perfect, and if this is part of the Hollywood life, it’s easily my favorite. All that’s missing now is for—

  “Olivia,” sings a voice from behind me. Maddie’s here.

  I turn to find her arm-in-arm with her date—correction: dates. On her left, his shaggy blond hair smoothed out nicely, is Rhys. And on her right, a man in a gray suit with piercing dark eyes. He smiles, and one of the photos from their wedding crosses my mind. Maddie’s dates are Rhys and Christopher.

  I rush over and hug all three of them—never mind that I haven’t been officially introduced to Rhys’s husband. I love them all so much right now just for being here.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I hacked into your email and got Rhys’s information. I told them I needed a ride, and they showed up with a stretch limo. I like their style.” She’s still holding onto their arms, and I notice she’s a little wobbly.

  “Have you been drinking Maddie?”

  “I like their style and their limo’s champagne selection. I need to be a part of this Hollywood thing. The glamour, the parties. Didn’t you love that red carpet walk in? That was, like, the real deal. And the photos will be awesome—me and these two hunks—holy shit!” She lowers her voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Ethan Beckham. Fifty steps away. Excuse me.”

  “Maddie wait.” I hate to disappoint her, but Ethan’s hand was securely fastened to Zoe North’s hip earlier. I’m pretty sure he’s not available tonight.

  “I’ll be right back. I gotta go work my magic.”

  She’ll figure it out soon enough.

  “She needs a boyfriend,” Rhys says.

  “You’re telling me.” The poor girl has been dating all the wrong guys. I wish she’d find someone perfect for her. But she’ll end up with several more Ethan-types—arrogant, selfish, disloyal—before she gives up on that type and finds someone good for her.

  But who am I to talk?

  Devon pulls my seat out for me, and we all take our places at the table. I finish my first glass of wine and accept another. Maybe a buzz is sinking in, but I look at Devon and can’t pull my eyes away. The smooth skin lining his jaw. The pale pink of his lips and the glint of his teeth as he cracks a joke, to which Rhys and Chris burst into laughter. His icy eyes glance over to me and seem to stare straight into my soul. Our eyes locked, time slows. My mind goes straight to our night in Oregon, our first time having sex. His hands gripping my arm. His weight on top of me.

  His pupils dilate slightly as if he can read my mind. Then he blinks and returns to his conversation. That split-second glance leaves my breathing unsteady. I tear my eyes away as a shiver runs down my spine.

  Maddie will find love. But—and it terrifies me to confess this—I may have already found it myself. Could I? Could I be in love with him? It’s been such a whirlwind of adventure and disappointment and excitement and uncertainty. But it’s not just what’s happened to us—it’s what’s happened within us. The sweet, quiet moments we’ve shared. The way I feel I’ve come alive. There’s so much more to come for us. Does he realize that too? It was all in that glance.

  Two hands grip my shoulder from behind, and I jump.

  “Ethan’s an asshole.”

  Maddie goes to the empty seat on the other side of Devon and falls into it, draining her current glass of wine. She waves over a staff member holding a tray of brimming champagne flutes and takes one with haste. After a giant gulp, she leans forward across Devon to tell me, “He turned me down. Couldn’t get a number or anything.”

  Devon leans back to give her room as my tipsy best friend invades his personal space to replay the events of her failed hookup. “He barely looked at me. And when he did, he was all, ‘And you are?’ like I’m a nobody.”

  She settles back into her chair and drinks from her glass. The lights dim as a spotlight brings our focus to the stage. Rhyanne comes out and welcomes everyone to the Fifth Annual YOUTHelp Celebrity Gala. After a storm of applause, she recounts her own struggles being accepted as a transgender woman. Her childhood was filled with bullying from peers and discomfort from her own broken self-identity. When she got her big break, she knew she had to do more. And that’s how YOUTHelp was born. Another round of applause erupts.

  “Now let’s get this gala started! We’re fortunate to have Stone Records as a key sponsor, and here to perform “Only You”, the one and only, Ethan Beckham.”

  Ethan takes Rhyanne’s place on stage, wearing his trademark glasses—his guitar slung over his shoulder. A drummer and bassist sneak into the background and take their spots. I bite my lip and turn to face Maddie.

  Her eyes glower as she finishes another glass of champagne and crosses her arms over her chest. Ethan starts to play, and she rolls her eyes and looks over to me.

  Her lips form the word without a sound, Asshole.

  I can’t help but smile at Maddie’s tantrum. She’s gorgeous, and it’s usually effortless for her to snag a guy’s attention. Most men throw their numbers at her before she can bat a lash. Her exaggerated disappointment—enhanced by the alcohol, no doubt—is comical knowing she’ll be over it by morning.

  Ethan finishes his song, and Rhyanne comes back to remind us about the silent auction taking place in the back of the room. Then she asks that everyone take a moment to remember those who’ve not only experienced the harsh, violent acts of cruelty and discrimination, but those who didn’t survive the hate.

  My pulse quickens, the room falls into silence, and all I can hear is the thunderous shaking of my own inhale. I lower my head and squeeze my eyes shut. This is all for Jared and those like him.

  Fingers interlock with my own, and I open my eyes to find Devon’s soothing hand embracing mine. I look from him to Rhys. His eyes are filled with tears, but he gives me a reassuring smile.

  Everything he and I went through years ago—separately, experiencing the trauma in isolation—yet here we are, going through this together. This is for Jared.

  Rhyanne begins talking again, and I force a slow, deep breath through my lungs to relax the tension. The hard part is over. Now we reminisce and enjoy the evening.

  Only it’s not. Rhyanne goes straight into a speech delving into emotional anecdotes. A screen behind her illuminates the faces of young victims as she recollects their stories. I respect her, I do. She speaks with care and grace. It’s clear this is her passion, and she’s set on making a difference. But I know whose story she’s going to tell.

  Natalia got all the details from me a few days ago.

  We’re all going to live through Jared’s untimely death. But these people didn’t know him. They couldn’t possibly understand the horror Rhys and I lived through.

  It’s hot in here. There are too many people and not enough oxygen. Face-after-face appear behind Rhyanne. A ten-year-old boy who attempted suicide. A fourteen-year-old girl who was tormented online for years until she ran away. I sip at my drink. As each photo switches to the next, I hold my breath anticipating the one face I’ll know. My leg involuntarily bounces from the uncomfortable state of limbo.

  A gentle nudge on my arm breaks me from the shackles of my anxious mind.

  “Come with me,” Devon whispers.

  He grips my hand and casually leads us out of the room. Through the doors, he looks left, then right, and pulls me down an empty hallway until we’re out of sight. Rhyanne’s muffled voice travels through the walls but not well enough to hear what she’s saying—or whose story she’s telling.

  “We need to get back in there. I don’t want to be rude,” I say.

  “You don’t have to put yourself through all that,” he says. “You’re here. You already know these problems exist, and you’re here doing something about them. This part of it,” he points back toward the ballroom, “that’s not for you. That’s for everyone else, to get them to understand. It’s business fo
r them. It’s personal, and painful, for you. It’s okay to skip this part.”

  Devon’s right. I drop his hand and massage my temples. I can breathe out here. I take a moment to quiet my mind before speaking again. “Alright. I’m good now. Thank you.”

  “You’re crying.”

  I bring my hand to my cheek to find it wet. Great. I’ll be the one in there with the smeared makeup and red eyes while everyone else looks flawless.

  Devon pulls my hands away from my face and kisses them. Then he brushes his fingers along my cheeks, removing the last of my tears. My breath catches as his thumb runs along my bottom lip.

  That’s it. Forget everything right now.

  I close my eyes and lunge toward him, my mouth finding his. He kisses me slowly at first, but I’m hungry for more. I need an escape right now. I need Devon. He got me out of that room. But that only eased my mind. The rest of me needs more—yearns for more. I kiss him with force, and he backs me into the wall. Standing on my tiptoes, I turn my head. Devon moves to my neck, kissing, nibbling his way from my earlobe to my collarbone. My hands grope under his tux jacket, finding the firm contours of his abs. My manicured nails scratch their way around his waist and up his back.

  With a shaky voice, I ask, “You said you have a penthouse upstairs?”

  He moves back to my ear, his hot breath making me melt. My legs are weak, but every muscle throbs for him now.

  I know he knows what I want. “Too far away,” he answers and there’s a mischievous spark in his eye.

  Without hesitation, he takes my hand and pushes me toward the first door on the left. It’s the stairwell leading up to the other floors. It’s carpeted in plush red and lit with warm light from a pattern of brass sconces. I look up at the kaleidoscope effect of the illuminated stairs, dozens of levels growing smaller and smaller with each floor, and at the top, a square of stained glass window reveals the black of the night.