Aria's POV
Shoving the pendant into my pocket along with the keycard Damien left on the table, I jog out of the garage and onto the curb.
I had no plans of attending the party tonight, but it is either that or spend one more minute in that penthouse, and I would rather be with a bunch of drunk college students.
At least, Marcus will be with me.
It is much different than being with Damien. For some reason, I feel unsafe with him. Not in the way I felt with those men hours ago. With Damien, it's different, like I am on a cliff, not being pushed down but not coming off it either.
Flagging down a taxi, I give the driver the address. The lair. Marcus said it is going to be fun, and I believe him.
It is an apartment located in the heart of the city, and as soon as I get out of the taxi, loud music reaches me, along with a couple of horrible voices.
I allow an easy smile to spread on my face because I want to let go of the heaviness of these past weeks, following my father's death. Taking a deep breath, I walk in through the doors, keeping Damien's jacket on me.
"You came!" Marcus chirps, pulling me into his arms. "I thought you had...Uh…the project."
"You said this would be fun," I shrug. "Definitely sounds better than a boring project."
The music hits a crescendo, and he moves closer to me, shouting above the bass. "Drinks?"
"Water." I don't drink. I watched my father do that all my life, and I vowed at a young age that I didn't want to be any bit like him. I avoided the things he liked, not because I didn't like them, but because I didn't want to do anything that reminded me of him.
It is the reason I am studying art, rather than accounts like he wanted. Maybe disobedience of rules is in my blood.
Marcus places a firm hand on my back and leads me further into the room. We walk past a group of popular college girls with shiny hair and glossy lips. Sophia stands in the middle, tall and perfect in a short red dress.
She's been competing with me since I can remember, and I don't know why. We don't even like the same things.
Just when I think I have managed to walk past her without getting her attention, her gaze cuts to my direction, and her eyes zero in on Marcus' hand on my waist.
"Aria Melendez!" she purrs, a fake smile on her face. "We weren't expecting you."
"Hi, Soph!" I murmur, hoping that will end it, but her friends do not know how to let things go.
One of them snickers. "Isn't your dad..."
"Dead? Yes." I figure that this is better than not talking about it. I remember seeing his name flash across Damien's screen before he turned it over. He is dead.
I am positive of that.
But why does it feel like everyone knows something that I don't?
"So brave of you to come out to a party." Sophia's eyes gleam as she regards Marcus and me. "We were just talking about girls who think they're better than everyone and still show up to be noticed."
"Wow," I murmur, angling my head. "Still writing poetry, Sophia?"
Heat flares on her cheeks, masked perfectly by her foundation. But she recovers fast, stretching out a hand to me. "We are doing dares. Want to play? Or are you going to preach to us about how to hold on to morals?"
"Sophia!" Marcus chides.
"What?" she drawls, widening her eyes innocently. "Everyone knows Aria is a prude. She doesn't even drink."
She takes my hand in hers. "Prove me wrong. One shot."
Her friends giggle like we are in middle school. It's ridiculous, yet, for some stupid reason, it hurts. It feels like I am in a room where I have to prove myself. And for the first time in a while, I decide to fuck it.
Maybe this is what grief does to you.
"Make it two," I reply, shocking even myself.
"Yay!" Sophia claps her hands giddily and signals to the guy with the bottle.
Marcus grabs my wrist. "Aria, what are you doing?" He whispers harshly. "You don't have to…"
"I can take care of myself!" I snap, and I feel him stiffen. My hand drops limply to my side when he pulls away. I feel bad immediately, but my lips remain pressed in a grim line.
I feel like I have been telling every single person all day that I can take care of myself, and no one is listening to me. This is the proof. To myself. To all of them.
Moving next to the table, I grab the first plastic cup and throw my head back, allowing the liquid to burn through my throat. I take in the second quickly, feeling it sting the corners of my eyes.
"See? I can take care of myself."
Sophia turns to Marcus. "Still trying to baby her?"
"Leave Aria alone!"
"Oh, relax." She pats his chest. "I am just trying to save her from you. She's using you, babe. Think about it. You have been around her all this while, and she has not even allowed you to date her."
Their little bickering dissipates into nothing when I feel the shift in the air. Some room temperature changes when certain men walk in. This one reduces eleven degrees.
He appears at the other end of the table, scanning the crowd. And then, his eyes fall on me. He is furious. His eyes are darker than I can remember, and his palms are curled into fists by his side.
Marcus follows the direction of my stare. "Who's that?"
"Nobody," I say, lightly, wrapping my hands around his neck in a spontaneous decision. "Do you want to dance? Let's go dance."
I pull Marcus with me to the dance floor, conscious of how wobbly my feet feel. I stumble, and Marcus wraps his hands around my waist again. A giggle escapes my lips, but he regards me with concern.
And suddenly, a gun cracks in the air.