Being among the elite families and notable persons of Europe, not to mention the world, came with its duties. My father, and by extension me, had a packed social calendar filled with parties, ceremonies, openings and charitable events.

While he attended one of these many boring functions almost every night, I was brought along to the most important ones as a way to show unity and bravado. He would walk me around like his pet, introducing me to new faces and schmoozing with old ones. I would one day be in his shoes, as he always reminded me.

Tonight was no different. The opening of a brand-new opera at the Vienna State Opera, and everyone who was anyone in our circle was there.

“I want to see you take another shot of Pimm’s.” Speri claps her hands behind me.

Our merry band of teenagers has already commandeered a balcony away from the arse-kissing and politics going on in the main lobby. It’s like the Roman Colosseum down there, everyone is chummy until they’re forced to rip out each other’s throats.

The chandeliers glint off of the velvet seats and cascading murals, everything about the opera over-the-top and opulent. Women in their ball gowns and men in their three-piece tuxedos, some sporting canes or pocket watches. It was all for show, pomp and circumstance the one thing that got you further in our world than any other attribute. Sure, wit and cunning counted for something, but what was that saying? Fake it ’til you make it? That was how half the people in this room had scored an invitation to this event.

I take my hands off of the balcony railing where I’m observing the crowd below and instead turn my gaze to my friends.

Drake and Ed are sprawled in red velvet chairs, nursing four fingers of scotch each. Two familiar faces to our crowd, but ones that usually don’t come out to these events, are Lillian and Alexander. Twin third years at Winston, their mother was the Secretary of State for Education and a big player in the world of the wealthy and powerful. They’re goofing around, daring each other to do childish things and generally acting like tossers. Speri is almost a bottle down, which she hides well. And Katherine, Eloise and Nora sit on a large chaise lounge, chatting.

And Nora, my girl, she was legless. A laugh bubbled out of her mouth, and her eyes were sleepy with alcohol. I hadn’t really been keeping track of how much she had to drink, as I needed to keep my eyes off of her.

If I looked straight at her, it would be like burning my retinas in the sun. Why she’d picked a dress the exact same color of the crushed red velvet the opera house sported was beyond me. Radiant. Breathtaking. Cock pummeling. I’d been sporting a stiffy all night, and each time I saw that fire-engine material stick to another desirable curve of her body, I had to bite my tongue in frustration.

“Ugh, it tastes like poison, I don’t know how you all drink this stuff.” She leaned back on the chaise, her breasts pushing up at the top of the strapless dress.

“It gets easier as you drink more. See?” Katherine downs another capful of the citrusy gin.

I don’t know what made Nora let loose tonight. Maybe since she’d been to a couple of events and hung out with us, she felt more comfortable. She shouldn’t, people like us weren’t ones to trust, but she was naïve and gullible. Maybe she thought we were more of a … thing, and that was making her feel like one of the group.

Regardless, she was drunk. And was playing right into my hands.

“Have another.” I wink at her for extra encouragement.

“Okay, fine.” She whistles a bit and downs another shot, and I can see it burn as she makes a sour face.

I will say, it’s rather brilliant having her around to play with these days. Sure, I may be pretending to be a gentleman—walking her home from school and escorting her through the halls, hanging out in coffee shops and buying her favorite snacks—but it was all for show. Underneath, I was trying little ways to have the paparazzi find her. They’d caught us at a hookah bar on Edgeware Road, and crashed our date to Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. Each time, I’d been sure to be holding her hand, or putting us out there in a certain way.

Slowly but surely I was trying to get to Bennett McAlister. Ruin his reputation. Slash his chances of becoming an integral part of the government or ascending the throne. Bury his perfect little life six feet under.

And getting the perks of snogging Nora and trying to get in her pants … well those were just bloody bonuses.

Drake motions to Katherine, and they leave the secluded balcony. I guess I’ve known for a while now that they’re shagging, but they’re also shagging everyone else so it’s not a big thing. There are only a few couples at Winston who are actually faithful to each other, and our gang would never be caught dead hanging around with those goody-two-shoes.

“Maybe we could go somewhere too.”

A small, warm hand grips my bicep where it rests on the railing, and I move closer to Nora. She’s drunk and randy, and here is yet another perk of having her as part of my plan. I turn to gather her in my arms, the need to feel her close becoming an intrinsic action these days.

For all of the scheming and naughtiness I've been indulging in, there is a small part of my conscience that kicks me in the bollocks and whispers in my ear. In the only light part of my soul still left, in the innocent, untainted corner, I could actually fancy Nora. In a real, genuine way. Sometimes, when we're alone, I don't have to pretend to be nice. It just comes naturally with her, and our banter flows and the way I'm attracted to her just feels ... normal.

But then the dark side bites back. I'm not fucking normal, and neither is she.

"Where do you want to go?" My nose is buried in her hair as I say it, my lips making contact with the sensitive part of her ear before she can answer.

She's warm and pliable in her knackered state, and even though I've had the equivalent of one beer, I'm not a good enough chap to stop.

“Take me somewhere.” Her sigh is all I need to pull her toward the door of the balcony.

Up, up, up we go, through stairwells and hallways, all the while pausing to make out in dark corners until one of us breaks it off in search of privacy. There is something addicting about Nora; the way her hair smells, the way her tongue dances with mine. I’m no stranger to a fit girl, but her innocence and will to learn from my body is exciting and arousing.

When I can no longer hear the chatter of the party below, I push open a heavy oak door and lock us in as it closes. It’s some kind of sitting room, it must be used as a dressing room sometimes but tonight it’s not occupied.

“Are you going to let me under that dress, pretty girl?” I walk her backwards until her back meets the white wall.

So far, it had just been a lot of hot and heavy snogging. Each time I tried to loosen a button on that private school uniform, she clammed up like a Scotland Yard-grade lock that I didn’t have the combination to.

Nora giggles, but her eyes are molten. “I don’t know …”

I don’t give her time to overthink it, but instead cover my mouth with hers. Slow and intoxicating, I set the pace. She may be drunk, but I’m in no rush. There is nothing else worth doing tonight, and I could spend the next four hours in here with her.

My hands grip her slim waist and move upward, my callouses catching on the smooth fabric of her dress. I can practically hear Nora purr as the tips of my fingers brush the sides of her breasts and move forward. Nothing is hindering my palms but the top of her dress, and even with it on I can feel the tightness of her nipples.

“Wait, Asher …”

Bloody hell. I sigh, dropping my head on her shoulder because she is going to stop me from doing anything but getting very blue balls. Again. Managing to hide my annoyance and disappointment, I looked up into her eyes.

“I don’t feel so well.”

All of the desire and heat had vanished from her face, and left her skin pale and cold. Nora put her hands to her mouth and covered a gagging sound. Fuck all, she was sick, not prude.

And another boner bites the dust.

“Okay, let’s sit down.” An idea sprang into my head, one that would embarrass both she and her wanker of a stepfather. “Actually, why don’t we go back downstairs, find your mother?”

If I was lucky, she’d toss her cookies in front of the entire opera house.

“Asher, Bennett is in an election season. If anyone sees me like this … oh, God.” She moans as she ducks her head between her legs again.

Oh I know it is, which is exactly why I’m here, interested in you.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ll take care of you.”

I try to lift her, but her skin is cold and clammy, and she’s falling about like a limp shoelace. I wasn’t lying when I said she was legless before. The illness must have just overcome her, like it often can when drinking. I need to try to get her downstairs.

“I don’t feel good.” Her voice breaks on a cry, and a pang of guilt hits me.

“You’re going to feel a bit wonky, love. Let’s try to lie down.”

Tonight isn’t the night to do this. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. After ten minutes of going on about it, Nora falls asleep, her thin, tall body curled up in a big arm chair in the corner of the room.

After she’s zonked out, I can’t convince myself to stay. It’s bad enough I took pity on her at all, and I curse myself for that streak of softness inside me.

I slip out of the room and down the stairs, annoyed at how the night ended after so much promise.

“Asher.” A sultry voice hits me as I round the corner.

Standing on the other side of the stairs in a heart-stopping black gown is Evelyn Stuttgart, the German heiress who has always been a trusted friend in times of need. Last year, we’d had a standing agreement to shag whenever it was convenient for each other. I don’t know why it had waned, but sometimes we still saw each other at events.

And like tonight, I thought it might be brilliant to bring that agreement back.

“Evelyn, looking fit as always. How is Munich?”

She shrugs, her long black curls moving around her breasts as she stares at me, only one thing in those light blue eyes. She wanted to shag too, and after the annoyance with Nora, I was becoming very keen on the idea.

“Same old, you know I can never stay in one place for too long. Although I do miss our weekends in Monaco.” The memories of our time spent on her father’s yacht is some of my favorite wanking material.

“What brings you up here?”

“Nothing interesting on the ground floor. Although … there could be something very interesting here.”

Evelyn had never been the type to be vague or tentative. She crossed the space between us, her hands falling to my shoulders once she was in front of me. Her mouth came at mine, skilled but predictably practiced in its initial assault on my own.

And I let her. Ticked off at the predicament I was in, and wanting to do something reckless, it was as if the universe had sent Evelyn here to both tempt and seduce me.

She smelled like exotic flowers and expensive penthouses, and was womanly in a way that Nora was not. Evelyn was probably the fantasy girl of half the men in this place. And yet when she moved her lips down my neck, sucking and biting in the exact spots that would have had me stiff as a pole a year ago, nothing happens.

My knob is soft, a useless piece of anatomy in my trousers. Bloody hell, I can’t stop thinking about a pair of blushing cheeks and hands that push mine away when I’m about to undress her.

Without words, I push her away from me and start down the stairs.

“What the hell, Asher?” I hear her raspy voice from behind me.

I don’t bother answering. I’m too ashamed to, or too annoyed to.

Either way, my blood is boiling at the fact that I can’t seem to get Nora, the girl I’m supposed to be toying with, out of my head.