Sugarbaby by CRYSTAL GREEN Page A

alive.
    And that was nothing compared to what was inside.
    Techno music laced with acid country rock belted me as I stood in front of the huge makeshift dance floor surrounded by the remains of walls that’d been knocked down. Lights pulsed with orange, blue, red, then green over the packed bodies, and the pungent smell of weed hovered, mixed with what I thought was dry ice floating from the corners. Black webs hung from the exposed half-roof and the decrepit second-story railings, swaying along with the dancers.
    There was even a temporary platform, a runway, really, set up against the massive fireplace. Kids in costumes—slutty superheroes, hot policewomen, sexy witches—were parading on it, greeting one another, sharing smokes and Lord knew whatever else.
    Carley held my hand so hard that the straps from her leather bracelet dug into my skin. Halloween was a week away, but neither of us had dressed up. She’d worn tight black pants and a matching top, and in spite of her outfit’s simplicity, Bret hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. He had his arm possessively looped around her even now.
    I’d pulled an old standby out of the closet—an all-purpose black long-sleeved dress. It was tight enough to make me feel what little curves I had but nothing that would tell Simmons I was into him.
    I tried not to think too hard about what kind of dress would draw Noah Reeves’s attention. Probably something in red.
    Carley nearly yelled in my ear. “This isn’t how it was last time!”
    She repeated it to Bret, and he nodded, leaning over so both of us could hear him.
    â€œIt’s a little upscale!”
    I didn’t know about that. Besides the costumed dancers on the floor, there were patches of boho-looking people around the edges. They had Mohawks, piercings, leather, chains, knit caps, and torn shirts, and I could tell that these weren’t costumes at all. They were Bret’s kind.
    One look told me that Carley wasn’t one of them.
    Was that why she was having doubts about her and Bret? She wasn’t his type, even if they had insane chemistry?
    Bret was shaking his head and talking above the music again. “Definitely a different crowd tonight!”
    As he said it, a stream of bohos cruised away from the fringe of the dance floor, streaming toward the exit.
    I looked around more, finding a belly dancer three feet away from us having powder licked off her skin from a guy who looked like a New York clubber. Coke?
    Carley had been right—this wasn’t my scene.
    But then I saw him.
    He was sitting at the bottom of a stairway that went nowhere, dressed in a thin black sweater that emphasized his wide shoulders, plus dark jeans, his blond hair ruffled, giving him a slightly misplaced, lost look. He was leaning his arms on his thighs, watching everything going on around him with the same nearly angry expression he’d had on in the Angel’s Seat.
    Why angry, though? And it looked like he was tightly coiled, too.
    I couldn’t say why, but a flutter blazed from my belly to my chest, and I held my breath. Noah Reeves, billionaire, the world revolving around him in a carousel of party lights.
    But that flutter died when I saw a busty girl dressed as a nurse sidle up to him and run her fingers through his thick hair, whispering into his ear. He looked at her—with disinterest?—and . . .
    A cluster of dancers migrated so that they blocked him, leaving me without a view.
    I blinked, snapping myself out of it, then took my phone out of my small black purse so I could text Simmons. The last thing I needed was to be focusing on Noah.
    Jadyn:
    I’m here, near the entrance.
    A few thuds of music passed. A guy with huge ear gauges stretching his lobes came up to Bret, and they gripped hands in hello as Carley looked more out of place than ever. And she’d been worried about
me
not fitting in.
    When I felt a large hand on my arm, I