PARTY WARS.

SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW. The music was so loud it felt like the floor itself had a pulse, as it started thrumming up through my heels, and my bones, until it was inside me. Gold lights dripped from the ceiling in thick chains and ribbons, as the entire room smelled like champagne, cigarettes, weed, and the kind of trouble you couldn’t wash off in the morning. Lucien’s hand was still at the small of my back as we moved, with him guiding me forward through the crush of bodies. He didn’t look at anyone, but everyone looked at him. That was the thing about Lucien Ravenscroft; you either watched him as he walked into the room or you pretended not to while burning up with jealousy on the inside. And tonight, I was on his arm as two things; His fake girlfriend. His public possession. “You’re staring at me,” he murmured, leaning just close enough against the stairs as he pulled me close to him, removing any space between us so that his lips brushed the shell of my ear. It was deliberate, especi