2. Fiona
Chapter 2
Fiona
I handed over my keys to the valet, wishing him a silent ‘good luck’ as I pulled the oversized coat closed around my ripped pink dress. At least I kept a backup in my purse. Plain black dresses meant you were ready for anything: a job interview or a random night out on the town. Or, yes, an anniversary party for your middle sister and her husband. You always had to have another plan when things went wrong.
I snuck into the ballroom, immediately spotting a discreet set of doors to the bathroom. Three stalls, the first one occupied. I went to the back one and grunted as I inched myself out of the mini dress, trying to stay balanced in my heels.
The other toilet flushed, then the faucet ran. I hopped on one leg to get into the black ruched dress but tripped, bumping into the wall.
“Ow,” I muttered.
“Fi?”
I stilled. Someone I knew actually heard me in here?
“Are you hiding again?” the woman asked.
I tensed. That voice. How was she already here?
“Bambi?” I asked.
“Guilty.”
“I thought you were at The Trap?”
“Got the night off.” She switched off the faucet, but neither of us moved. “Do you need any help in there?”
I sighed deeply. “Just having a wardrobe malfunction.”
“Let me help.”
I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, including someone who wanted to help me. I straightened the fabric. “I’m good,” I said.
“Let me see you.”
Begrudgingly, I opened the door and shuffled out, stuffing the ripped pink dress into my purse. I caught a glimpse in the mirror; besides the frizzy hair, my lipstick was still red, and the heels made the dress look nicer than I expected. Pink heels with a black dress worked well together.
“You look perfect,” Bambi swooned.
It was easy for her to say that. Bambi always looked like a nymph emerging from the forest, ready to seduce a warrior. She was my middle sister’s best friend but was quickly becoming my friend too.
“You’re too nice,” I said.
“Pink dress didn’t work out?”
I wiggled my brows. “How did you?—”
“Your sister showed me pictures,” she said. Of course she did. “She was so jealous of that dress when you first posted that to your socials.”
My heart sank at those words. After a rough couple of years in high school, my middle sister had moved out at eighteen and refused to talk to our family for years. We had no idea where she was or what she was doing. It was bittersweet to think of a time when she used to stalk me on social media to keep up with me. Like with the ripped pink dress.
“I told her I’d give it to her, but she insisted I wear it tonight,” I said. And now it was ruined. “Do you know where she is?”
“Probably out with her lover boy.”
She linked arms with me, and we returned to the ballroom. Suddenly, my skin buzzed like someone was watching me. I rubbed the back of my neck and turned: several men in suits stood behind one man, like he was their leader and they were waiting for his command to capture me. The leader’s blue-gray eyes immediately tuned into me, haunting as black ice. A grin flickered on his lips, then disappeared. My cheeks flushed, and I touched my cheek. Did I have something on my face?
“Stop it,” Bambi whispered, pulling me away. “I told you: you look perfect.”
“That man is staring at me,” I said, nodding in the direction of the blue-gray-eyed leader.
Bambi waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about him,” she said. “You’re too good for him.”
I opened my mouth to ask her who he was, but a group of friends assaulted her with hugs, and I took that as my cue to head to the corner of the room, away from everyone else. I stood by a table, scanning the room, instantly finding that man in a deep conversation with one of his men. He was taller than me, by at least a foot, and older too—a few years, maybe. Muscular shoulders. Flexed, thick biceps. Black hair topping those steely eyes. I recognized him from somewhere, like a bar or something.
But it had been years since I had gone to a bar. It must have been something else .
He shifted slightly, then his eyes locked with mine. And I knew, then, without a doubt, that he was watching me. The hairs on the back of my neck raised. He seemed so important; what did he want with me?
“Fiona!”
I clenched my fists to my side, trying not to show my anxiety. I turned to meet my mother and father.
“Come here!” my mother shouted. She jabbed her margarita toward a woman with bright red curls. “Meet my oldest daughter, Fiona.”
My mother pushed me forward. I held out a hand toward the woman. “Hi,” I said. “Enjoying your evening?”
“My oldest,” my mother repeated, which she did a lot when she was drunk. “She’s in medical school.”
“Babe,” my father said, gently reminding her.
“ Was in medical school,” I said. I forced a smile. “I’m studying library science now.”
“That’s a science?” Red Curls asked.
“Actually, there are quite a few different aspects to?—”
“You know she finished at the top of her college class?” my mother said. Never mind the fact that I had finished top of my class in English, not biology. She rubbed her cheeks, and my father grabbed her margarita before she could spill it. “She’s the best thing to come out of this city in decades.”
Soon, my mother stood in front of me to gossip and brag about the daughter she wished I was, and I gladly pulled back, distancing myself from them, immediately finding those blue-gray eyes on me again. This time, the man was by himself, across the dance floor, his gaze locked on me. As if he was waiting for me.
“Champagne?” a server asked. I jumped, nearly whacking his tray.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “No. Thank you. ”
“Why are you so nervous?” Bambi asked, popping up by my side. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I glanced at my parents. “You know how they are,” I said quietly.
My parents had never liked Bambi, but that didn’t stop her from talking to me or my middle sister. She patted me on the back. “Let’s get you a drink.”
I shook my head. “I don’t like beer.”
She pulled me toward the open bar. “And you’re not going to drink beer. You like cocktails, right?”
“Sure,” I said. The last time I had one, five years ago now, I had blacked out and probably made an ass of myself. I was good at thinking ahead, but not that great at keeping track of how much I had consumed when it came to alcohol. The fact that cocktails tasted good didn’t help.
“Then take a shot with me.” Bambi waved at the bartender. “Two vodka shots and orange juice backs. Thanks.” She handed over a large tip, then handed the shot to me. “Let’s celebrate. Your sister found someone to love, and here we are, drinking in her honor. I never thought I’d be able to come to a party like this and actually get to have fun.” She shoved the chaser glass of orange juice in my hand. “To new beginnings: your sister’s marriage, my managerial position at the Trap, and, ” she winked, “your future library.”
“To new beginnings,” I said. We clinked glasses and chugged the drinks. Then I ordered myself soda water with lime and a splash of ginger ale.
“Does that have vodka in it?” Bambi asked. A server passed us and Bambi forgot her question and quickly snaked two champagne flutes. “You’ve eaten dinner, right?”
“I— ”
She handed me the flute. “Drink this.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “I swear it tastes good.”
I took a sip. It was sweet and dry. “It’s not bad.”
“It’s your sister’s anniversary party.” She shoved my shoulder. “Drink it like you mean it.”
And why couldn’t I have a night off? I could study tomorrow.
Screw it.
I tipped the champagne flute, swallowing as much as I could. The bubbly liquid trickled down my throat, my face scrunching up at the taste. But I finished the glass.
“Yes!” Bambi hollered. “Now, dance with me.”
“Hah! That’s where I draw the line.”
“Get another glass! You’ll change your mind.”
She slinked off to the dance floor, and I wandered to a tall standing table. Blue-Gray Eyes was still staring at me. I traded the soda water for a second glass of champagne off of a passing tray, gulping half of it down. I crossed my arms.
“Slow down there,” my middle sister, Maisie, said. “When was the last time you drank that much?”
When we were in high school, she drank a lot. But me, the oldest sister? I had waited until college, like a rule follower. Then I was the definition of a sloppy drunk. And that wasn’t how you got into medical school. So I stopped.
Not that it mattered now.
But Blue-Gray Eyes didn’t help my nerves either. He clearly wanted something from me. Why couldn’t he come over and say it? I wrapped my arms around myself.
“I can’t shake it,” I said, stealing a quick peek at him. “It’s like I know him.” I nodded to him as subtly as I could, trying not to make it obvious that I was talking about him to my sister. “Is he staring at me? ”
Maisie glimpsed the man. “Yep. Why?”
My shoulders tensed. “Doesn’t he seem off to you?”
“You know, you seem off to me right now,” she said, tapping her chin. “What’s going on?”
I gripped the neck of the flute. His eyes burned into me. Was the alcohol making my cheeks hot, or was it him?
“I feel like I’ve met him before,” I said. “Like I know him from somewhere, you know?”
“He’s your brother-in-law. You know that, right?”
Her husband had a brother?
Maisie squeezed my hand. “I’m sure you’ve run into each other in the past year. Family gatherings. Pickups. Carpools. Whatever.”
I tried to run through the different things I had done since reconnecting with my middle sister, but none of that made sense. I had no idea that she had a brother-in-law.
“I don’t think that’s it,” I said. “Maybe I’m making things up. Who knows? Everything has been weird lately.”
“If I find anything out, I’ll let you know,” she said. “But come on. Guys are always checking you out. I know you’re hot. But when will you figure out that you’re hot?”
She hugged me, and I hugged her back. Though she had disappeared for years, I was still closer to her than I was to my parents.
Bambi popped up behind her. “My sisters from another mister!” she said. She kissed our cheeks. The two of them talked for a minute, and I zoned off, staring back at that man. Trying to figure out how I knew him, or how he knew me. It’s not like I was an outgoing person. I stuck to my classes. And after that, I stayed at the library, doing my job.
Either way, my sister’s brother-in-law was interested in me. And it made me nervous.
But…I kind of liked it .
“How are you doing, Fiona?” Bambi asked. There was a note of interest in her voice, like she was trying to gauge if the alcohol had relaxed me yet.
“You know,” I said. “Surviving.”
Bambi and my sister exchanged a look, and I slumped down. This wasn’t my typical scene, like it was for them. I wanted to hide under a rock. Relief swam through me when Bambi left for the dance floor, and Maisie disappeared into the pool area. She wanted me to watch over the ballroom, basically to make sure our parents didn’t go back to the pool. But once she came back in, I’d make up an excuse about work or grad school and leave.
But as I found those blue-gray eyes again, a fire ignited inside of me: a mix of nerves, anxiety, lust, and confusion. Who was he? Why was he watching me? A few women gawked at him, but his eyes were only on me.
He narrowed the space between us, swarming me with the scent of mahogany. His blue-gray eyes took me in.
“Fiona Ross,” he said, his voice calm and controlled. A chill erupted inside of me, contrasting with the heat in my chest.
“Who are you?” I whispered.