The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,16

been too busy with med school until a second ago to really dive into the club scene, and now I had a residency. Or so people thought. But tonight, I wanted to do something reckless, dangerous, and stupid. To remind myself I was alive.

Tonight, I wanted to seek Sam Brennan out, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

Because tonight, like that other night, I watched someone die.

And whenever death was close, so was my need to curl into the soul of a monster and hide from the world.

To make matters complicated, I saw Sam all the time.

At dinners, charity events, and parties.

He had been working for my family for almost a decade now.

Somehow, I’d let the worst happen. I continued loving him from afar, like the sun loved the moon. Coexisting, but distantly. Eternally star-crossed, but never close enough for comfort.

We’d spoken very little to each other since that evening, even though our families had grown close to one another through Hunter and Sailor. Seeing him was always a bittersweet cocktail of elation and pain.

I’d learned to get high on both feelings.

“Forget about Sam tonight.” Belle sucked on her straw, inhaling the gin and tonic like getting trashed was an Olympic competition. Under her costume, she was the closest thing to Margot Robbie I’d seen up-close. Feline blue eyes, sunshine blonde hair, delicately arched brows, and a sinfully full bottom lip.

“You haven’t gone out once since you started your residency at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. That was over six months ago. Find yourself a hookup. Have fun. You earned it, Doc.”

“I don’t do hookups,” I pointed out, crushing the lime with my straw in my drink like it wronged me somehow.

“Time to change that. It makes no sense that an OB-GYN in training—a woman who literally takes care of everyone else’s vagina—does not care for her own. You can’t pine for an unrequited penis. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Well, I sincerely hope you don’t get mercury poisoning, Belle, because you seem to enjoy sampling said fish a bit too much.” I took a generous sip of my drink, knowing I sounded prudish and regretting my remark immediately.

Belle threw her head back and laughed, far from offended.

“Oh, Ash, you are a hoot. That’s the thing most people don’t know about you. Underneath the polished exterior, the American Princess longs for the monster to steal her, not for the prince to save her. You’re kind of a dangerous creature, when you want to be.”

The drinks kept on coming, and the indie music was good and loud. Before long, Belle pulled me to the dance floor, where we ground against each other to the sound of The Shins, Two Door Cinema Club, and Interpol.

Tendrils of my blonde wig stuck to my face and lip gloss as I sweated away the memories of today’s shift at the clinic, and I belted out the words to “Runnin’ with the Devil” by Van Halen with a drunk, elated crowd, once again using noise and lights to drown my sorrows.

Ms. B.

Needles.

Death.

Mother.

Despair.

At some point, Belle zeroed in on a man as she always did.

Emmabelle Penrose was a self-proclaimed non-monogamous woman. While she wasn’t predatory, she was definitely not looking for a serious relationship and loved nothing more than indulging in one-night stands. Monogamous relationships were a foreign concept to her, like a bidet or brown sauce. She was aware it was something other people enjoyed, but was never tempted to try it out herself. But in the rare times she’d picked a lover, be it a woman or a man, she was fiercely devoted to them and made them feel like the center of the world.

Which was probably why she broke more hearts than she could count.

Her victim tonight was a tall, dark, and handsome type dressed as Zorro.

They met halfway, striking up a conversation while I self-consciously danced by myself before retreating back to the bar.

She reappeared by my side ten minutes later.

“We’re going to the Four Seasons. He’s got a friend in management who can hook us up with a presidential suite. Doesn’t he give Antonio Banderas a run for his money?” Belle sank her teeth into her lower lip, watching him from across the room as he retrieved both their coats from the cloakroom, sending her nervous glances to make sure she didn’t run away or change her mind.

I leaned my forearms against the bar, smiling. “Definitely, but the costume’s a bit cheesy, no?”

“Cheesier than Domino’s pizza. Luckily, I’m spending one night with