Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 333(@300wpm)
Well so much for pretty garnishes. I down that drink quickly, both out of fear that I’ll accidentally spill it all over my dress as Collette drags me away from the bar and because I need the liquid courage if I’m going to go out onto a dance floor. Fortunately, there are so many bodies crammed into the space, everyone getting into the music, shouting the words when they know them—no one cares about me and what I’m doing.
I’m on the fringes for a while, barely shuffling back and forth, laughing at the over-the-top enthusiasm some people have for their favorite songs, then the DJ blends a Calvin Harris song with Rihanna lyrics and I can no longer restrain myself. I let Collette pull me toward her and we belt out the lyrics together, adding silly dance moves, mostly just…acting our ages, something I’ve never done.
I’m on my second drink, overheated and having fun on the dance floor still, when Alexander catches my attention and waves to me from across the room.
“You want a drink?” he mouths while miming the gesture with his hands.
I laugh and hold up my half-finished martini.
He nods and cuts around the crowd toward the bar. Then he comes to find us when he has his beer in hand.
I’m genuinely happy to see him until he leans in and tells me, “Just so you know, I texted Emmett to let him know you’re here.”
I rear back, knitting my eyebrows together. “What? Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Ominous and foreboding, like something bad is about to happen.”
He winces.
“Alexander.”
He tugs a hand through his hair. “You haven’t seen him these last few days…”
“No. Of course I haven’t.”
“Well…let’s just say it hasn’t been good. He’s pretty eager to see you.”
“Alexander!”
He holds up his hands in innocence. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Lucky for him, a firearm didn’t go with this dress.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lainey
I’m sitting in the center of a booth in Bar 717, sandwiched between Heath and Collette and their friends. Everyone is talking, but I’m staring at the door, a nervous wreck. I dumped the last half of my second drink and switched to water the moment Alexander warned me Emmett might be on his way. My leg bounces underneath the table, and Collette shoots me an odd look.
“You okay?”
Absolutely not.
Time has a new meaning. Each second feels like eons, and when Emmett finally walks into the bar, I feel like I might pass out.
Just as I suspected, his entrance is quite the ordeal. I swear the volume of the music dips slightly. Gravity bends in his direction. He has us all ensnared as he stands near the door, scanning the room. It’s an eerie thing to watch a predator at work, to endure the gut-clenching fear of knowing you’re the one they’re seeking. I force down a hard swallow and wet my lips.
He’s wearing what I now realize is his signature look: black suit; black button-up shirt, unbuttoned at the neck; silver watch glinting on his wrist. Inky dark hair and a harsh glare. The devil called—he wants his wardrobe back.
When he finally spots me, Collette’s leaning in to tell me something, talking right against the shell of my ear so I can hear her over the music, but it’s no use. I’m not listening. Emmett has my attention.
My stomach twists as he takes his first step in my direction. He doesn’t waver in his pursuit, even as people try to talk to him.
He has a face like thunder as he watches Heath put his arm around the back of the booth, skimming his fingers along my bare shoulder.
It’s intentional, I know. Heath sees Emmett walking toward us. He hears the chorus of greetings.
“Emmett!”
“Emmett, you made it!”
“Pull up a chair. Or, here, we can all scoot in.”
Heath doesn’t move his hand, but he does lean over the table just as Emmett arrives at our booth, ensuring Emmett can hear his goading tone.
“Nice of you to show…I’ve been keeping your fiancée company.”
Emmett doesn’t even look at him. His dark gaze captures mine.
Pissed is an understatement.
He holds up his hand, waving his pointer finger and middle finger in a universal gesture for, Come here.
I don’t move.
I’m not sure he understands what’s going on, but I know he got my note. I’ve called it off. You’re free. I don’t belong to him. He can’t beckon me like a dog.
But even if I’m willing to stand my ground, the others aren’t. These are Emmett’s loyal subjects, after all. The people to the left of me start scooting out of the booth, clearing the way for me, Collette included. How annoyingly helpful of them. I give Emmett a dirty look and start to slide out. Everyone watches me. I’m surprised no one throws out teasing barbs. It feels like my daddy has come to collect me from a party, like I’m about to be dragged home and grounded for weeks.