Okay, so that second glass may have been a mistake. My steps are even more unsteady as I push out of the ladies’ room and back into the main party. Although the blisters on my feet are throbbing just a tiny bit less, and even though my vision is slightly blurry from the tears that are still sitting in my eyes, I think I might be able to pull this off and get out of here without having a complete meltdown.
I take a second to catch my bearings, and look around the packed space, deciding it might be best to just circle around the edge of the massive room. Cutting through the middle will require a lot of weaving, and my wobbly ankles aren’t up for that.
I purposefully don’t look in the direction where I saw Nero, or where I think I saw him, since I got all turned around, because I can’t witness seeing him a second time. Or more specifically, I can’t witness him with his arm around another woman a second time and keep my sanity.
A group of people off to my left shift and converge around one of the food waiters.
My stomach is empty––besides the booze––but just the idea of trying to chew and swallow something makes my insides roil.
Turning away from the food, I blow a breath out between pursed lips. I don’t even want to see it.
Guess I’ll go the other way.
Looking up, so I don’t unwittingly bump into a tray of something, a large figure catches my attention.
He’s not doing anything spectacular, just walking toward me, along the back wall. He’s probably twenty feet away, but there’s something about him…
He kinda reminds me of Nero. The way he stands up straight, the energy he exudes, the fact that he’s handsome.
When his eyes catch mine, I look down, a reflex I can’t seem to shake.
But then it hits me, and my eyes snap back up.
I recognize him, and tendrils of ice wrap around my limbs.
I recognize him.
He came into the café that morning. He was all nice, asking me what my favorite drink was and leaving me a huge tip.
I take one step back.
I told this man what drink I liked, and then Nero showed up and ordered that same latte.
They have to know each other.
It can’t be a coincidence that this man is here.
He knows Nero. Nero knows him.
They know each other.
I take another step back, my foot tilting in the high heels.
Ever since that very first night, when Nero walked into my apartment, I always felt him watching. Felt him nearby. And even when I doubted that any of it was real, it comforted me to feel like someone cared. Twisted or not.
But sending someone else to check on me… having this big intimidating man come to my place of work…
Panic and sadness press in on me, making it hard to breathe.
Sending someone else makes it all so different. So bad.
How could he do that?
How could he trick me like that?
It’s so stupid. So freaking stupid that it hurts my feelings. But so few people are nice to me. When this stranger asked what my favorite drink was, it… I don’t know. It was weird, but it was still someone else in this world asking a question about me. Making me feel interesting.
But that was another lie. This man, like everyone else, doesn’t care about me.
A tear breaks loose, slipping down my cheek.
Seeing my emotion, the man slows, and holds his hands up. It’s probably meant to be a disarming gesture, but displaying his large palms like that only reminds me how much stronger he is than me.
How much stronger Arthur is than me.
And Nero…
A sound of sorrow pops out of my mouth.
Why did he have to make me feel so safe?
Why did he have to shatter the illusion I lived in?
I hadn’t realized… I hadn’t realized how unsafe I’d felt for my entire, pathetic existence, until Nero barged into my life. Then he wrapped me in his arms, holding my broken pieces together, and I felt safe. Safe!
I wish I’d never known that feeling.
The man takes a step closer, and I blink, sending a whole cascade of tears tumbling free.
There are a dozen steps between us, but I keep inching back at his approach.
Something about his manner says he’s not just here to ask me to leave.
Which is when it clicks.
Nero is a mobster. And I bet this man is too.
My heart starts to pound even faster as fear surges up to match my sorrow.
I don’t know anything. Not really. But what if it’s still too much? What if I know too much?
The man takes one more step closer and my instincts take hold.
Without thinking past the right now I turn so my back is to the wall, and dart straight into the throng of bodies.
I bump a few shoulders as I go, but no one seems to notice, as they are too engrossed in laughing conversations.
I dare a glance over my shoulder. Hoping he’ll be by the back wall, watching me leave.
But the split second it takes me to look, is all the time I need to confirm he’s following me.
And he’s close.
Oh god.
I pick up my pace. The alcohol helping me block out the way my shoes are pinching my toes.
“Excuse me.” I shuffle past another group, taking a few quick strides across a small open section of floor. “Pardon me.” I place my hand on the shoulder of a shorter gentleman causing him to turn left as I sneak around the other side of him.
I don’t want to draw attention to my flight. Causing a scene wouldn’t be good for me, I’m sure of it.
It’s tempting to look back to check for my pursuer again, but I don’t dare. I need to focus on getting out.
A stretch of space opens up before me, but the feeling of fingers brushing against my shoulders kills the small amount of relief I’d felt.
“King!” A voice booms out beside me, and the fingers drop away.
