Dangerously Right

1

Dorian POV

The pool is packed.

Red cups line the concrete, crushed beneath bare feet and abandoned beside half-empty bottles. Bodies cover every lounger, spill across the grass, and crowd around the speakers, moving with the music as the bass pounds hard enough to vibrate through the ground beneath me.

The place is chaos.

Laughter cuts through the music. Someone shouts something I can’t make out. A whistle pierces the air before a girl suddenly shrieks.

Two guys shove her into the pool, clothes and all.

She hits the water with a splash that sends a wave over the edge, soaking the people closest to it.

The crowd fùcking loses it.

Cheers erupt as she surfaces, sputtering and swearing while her friends double over laughing.

The air is thick with chlorine, sunscreen, cheap beer, and sweat.

Too many people. Too much noise.

Exactly the kind of party where anything can happen.

My house, technically owned by my grandfather’s trust, is where people end up.

I share it with a few of my teammates, so there’s almost always something going on. A party. A pre-game. The aftermath of one.

Quiet isn’t really a thing here.

I weave through the crowd, nodding at familiar faces as I go. I step over discarded towels, crushed cans, and whatever else has been abandoned on the floor.

Someone slaps my shoulder as I pass, yelling something over the music.

I don’t bother trying to hear him.

Caleb’s hard to miss: half-submerged in the shallow end of the pool, laughing too loud, water sloshing as he leans back on his elbows. He’s bulked up over the summer, his shoulders broader and his arms thicker than I remember. Ben’s a few feet away, sprawled in a chair near him, a towel around his waist and his phone clenched in his hand like it’s personally offended him.

Austin is stretched out on one of the loungers, a girl straddling his lap, both of them far too occupied with each other to notice anyone else. He doesn’t even glance my way when I pass.

I drop into the empty chair beside Ben, stealing a beer from the cooler as I pass and cracking it open with one hand.

“Our opener’s gonna be a bloodbath,” Caleb says, leaning back against the pool’s edge. “I’m gonna annihilate every one of those bàstards.”

“Yeah?” I snort. “You said that last year.”

Caleb flips me off, grinning, right as a wave of water splashes over the pool’s edge and soaks my shoes.

I turn back to Ben. “What the fùck is wrong with you?” I ask, grabbing another beer from the cooler and tossing it at his chest. He catches it without looking up.

“Family shìt,” he mutters as his thumbs flicker over the screen.

“Of course it is.”

“My parents are asking if we can take my cousin in,” he says finally. “She’s got a full scholarship, but housing fùcked up the dorms. It’s a last-minute mess my parents want me to fix.”

I pause. “Which one?”

Sloane slides into the chair beside me at that exact moment. Her thigh brushes mine, light but deliberate, fingers tracing lazy patterns up my chest. Her long hair catches the sun, framing her sharp, angular face. Her lips curve in a knowing smile, green eyes gleaming with amusement and calculation.

A faint trace of cashmere and amber follows her as she leans closer.

“Maple House, I think.”

I roll my eyes, my lips tugging into a faint, impatient smile. “I mean—which cousin?”

Ben throws his head back and laughs, shaking his shoulders. “Oh, man… she’s called Sisi.” He grins at us, sheepish but charming.

I take a slow sip of beer, letting the thrum of the party pull my attention back. Sloane’s fingers trail up my thigh, annoying but also… expected.

Annoying enough to snap at, tempting enough to test me.

Caleb barks out a laugh, water flicking off his arms. “Dizzy Sisi?”

Sloane perks up instantly, her eyes narrowing and her full attention snapping into place. “Dizzy Sisi?”

“Yeah,” Caleb says, grinning. “I met her years ago. We were vacationing in Aspen. Ben’s mom brought her along. She was always off in her own little world, barely paying attention to what was happening around her. You could say her name three times before she’d even realize you were talking to her.” He shrugs. “Dizzy Sisi just kind of stuck.”

“Dude, if you call her that, I will kick your aśs.”

“Noted. I’ll stick with plain old Sisi.”

Ben grimaces, holding the phone toward us. I lean in despite myself.

Blonde hair, frizzy and untamed, sticks out in every direction. Thick glasses obscure half her face. Braces flash in the harsh glare. The photo looks old. She looks barely thirteen, caught in that awkward in-between stage where nothing fits quite right. She looks uncomfortable. Out of place. Like she doesn’t belong anywhere near a house like this.

Caleb howls. “Holy shìt.”

Sloane scoffs, rolling her eyes as her hair slips over one shoulder. “You’re kidding.”

I shrug, already bored with the conversation. “She can stay. We’ve got a spare room.”

I don’t know why I look at the photo a second time. I just do.

Sloane’s smile doesn’t falter, but something in her eyes sharpens.

“Moving in?” she repeats lightly, tilting her head.

“Since when do we bring in strays?”

“Why?” I take a pull from my beer, the cold sliding down my throat as I watch her reaction with detached amusement. “You worried I’m suddenly into milk-bottle glasses and awkward smiles?”

Her nails dig into my thigh a little harder. “Don’t be a dìck, Dorian.”

I glance down at her hand, the weight of it, the warmth, and feel that familiar twist in my gut.

Irritation. Want. The mess of it all.

Sloane has a hold on me. Not because I’m in love with her. Not because she matters.

Because it’s easy. Because my father insists appearances matter. Because habit is a powerful thing.

“You know you want me,” she says softly, her overly plumped lips quirking in that infuriating way.

I grab her wrist, stopping her. The sudden contact sparks across my skin, a reminder of the game we’ve been playing for the last year. I hold her there for a second, watching the flicker of irritation, and maybe a little thrill, cross her eyes.

“Upstairs,” I say, my voice low and firm. “Before I change my mind.”

Her smile turns sharp, satisfied. She always knows when she’s won. Her gaze flicks over me like she’s daring me to contradict her.

Behind us, the music surges louder, laughter spilling into the night. Summer is bleeding out one reckless moment at a time.

I follow her through the crowd, ignoring the gnawing feeling churning in the pit of my stomach.

I’d spent the whole summer in Europe, fùcking my way through one country after another, but now I’m back.

And I didn’t have a choice.

I had to play along with this charade.

As much as Julian, my father, needed Sloane’s father’s company, I needed it more. I needed to cement my place in the family business.

Because in two years, when I graduate, I’ll take my place at the head of my grandfather’s empire.