Chapter 1 #2
“Hi.” I arrived at his table and immediately forgot every other word in the English language. Then remembered he probably didn’t speak it. “Um…parlez-vous—”
“English is fine.”
American. The relief almost knocked me sideways. “Oh, thank God. My French is terrible. I’m the one who— I fell into you. On the dance floor. A few minutes ago.”
“I remember.”
Two words. Not unfriendly. Just… sparse. Like he was rationing them.
“Can I buy you a drink? As an apology for almost knocking you over.”
He lifted the glass in front of him. Still half full. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Right. Yeah. Of course.” I stood there. He looked at me, then his eyes drifted past me toward the crowd. His hand went to his ear again—quick, subtle, like he was adjusting an earring he wasn’t wearing.
“I’m Sarah,” I said, because the silence was killing me.
His eyes came back. “Donovan.”
“Donovan.” I repeated it like an idiot. “Are you here alone?”
“Meeting someone.” His gaze moved past me again. Whatever he was looking for out there was a lot more interesting than I was.
“Oh. Okay. I’ll let you—”
“It’s not—” He stopped. Something shifted in his face, quick and almost invisible. He looked at me, really looked, for just a second. Then his hand went to his ear and his jaw clenched, and whatever opening I had was gone. “It was nice to meet you, Sarah.”
There it was. Polite, painless, and final.
“Yeah. You too.”
I walked back to Alyson with as much dignity as I could manage, which wasn’t much. She took one look at my face and handed me whatever she was drinking.
“That bad?”
“He’s meeting someone.”
“Oh, Sarah.”
“It’s fine. I tried. Can we not talk about it?”
She didn’t push. She just pulled me back into the dancing.
The next hour passed in pieces. More songs.
More drinks. At some point, Alyson switched us to cocktails and I stopped keeping count.
I drank whatever she put in my hand. My body had stopped objecting and every time I closed my eyes, I was back against that chest with those brown eyes looking down at me, and I needed that to stop.
It didn’t stop. But the edges of the room softened, and the music filled in the spaces where my thoughts had been. Eventually, I stopped looking for him.
At some point, I noticed Daniel leaning against the wall near the booth, eyes half closed, swaying in a way that had nothing to do with the music. Even as a vet, I could have diagnosed him from across the room.
Alyson noticed too. “Daniel’s done.”
“He looks awful.” I heard my own slur of the s.
“He’s been matching me shot for shot. That’s his mistake.” She grabbed my arm. “Come on. We’re going. You did good for tonight.”
“Yeah? I thought I was supposed to do the nasty.”
She smiled. “I mean, I was hoping, but I know you. That wasn’t ever going to happen. I would’ve been thrilled with you just kissing someone. Sorry your hot guy disappeared.”
I shrugged, the world spinning a little. I needed to get back to my room. “We’re leaving tomorrow anyway.”
We collected Daniel. Alyson got under one of his arms, I got under the other, and we hauled him toward the exit. He mumbled something about being fine. He was not fine.
The night air hit all three of us at once. Cold, sharp. I sucked in a breath, and the tequila sloshed in my stomach. My thoughts were experiencing lag, and the edges of my vision were dissolving.
We were maybe twenty steps from the club entrance when the strap on my ballet flat snapped.
The shoe folded under my foot, and I stumbled and caught myself on a lamppost. Five days of cobblestones had finally killed it.
“Go ahead,” I said, crouching down to deal with the strap. “I’m right behind you.”
Alyson hesitated. Daniel was sagging against her, dead weight.
“Sarah—”
“The hotel is right there. I can see the awning. Go. I’ll see you guys in the morning. I think you’re about to have your hands full with him.”
I wasn’t sure I wasn’t going to have my hands full with myself, the way my stomach was feeling.
She looked at the blue awning. She looked at Daniel, who was starting to slide. She looked at me, crouched on the sidewalk, fiddling with a broken shoe.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. Love you. Please drink water. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She went. Struggling each step under Daniel’s weight, offering him encouragement.
I resituated my shoe on my foot. It wasn’t going to stay on with the broken strap, but the hotel was right down the block. Fifty yards, maybe less.
“Need some help?”
I turned. A man was standing behind me. Tall, well-dressed. He must have come from the club. I could see the door still swinging behind him. His English was accented in a way I couldn’t identify.
“I’m fine. Just a broken shoe.”
“Let me walk you.” His hand found my elbow. “You seem a little unsteady.”
I didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t want him touching me. “I’m fine. I’m just going right—”
“I insist.” His grip tightened. He started guiding me, and my shoe was loose and the cobblestones were uneven and I was so drunk I could barely track which direction we were moving.
But I knew it was the wrong way.
“Wait.” I tried to stop. “The hotel is—”
His hand pulled me the other direction. “No, you’re confused. It’s this way.”
“No. It’s right there, I can see it.”
He yanked my arm. I stumbled sideways, and his face changed. The smooth charm vanished, while something malevolent replaced it. His hand came up fast.
A fist closed around his wrist before it reached me.
I knew him before I saw his face. The width of his shoulders, the plain dark shirt, the way he moved—deliberate, unhesitating.
He stepped between me and the man as if he’d been standing there all along, had the man’s wrist locked in one hand.
And before I could process what I was seeing, he drove his other fist straight into the man’s face.
One punch. Quick and efficient. The sound it made was something I would hear in my sleep for weeks.
Donovan. The man who was meeting someone.
The jerk staggered. Then another man was on him—also broad-shouldered, a redhead, moving fast. They had the jerk’s arms behind his back, metal clicked, and they were walking him toward a van that had pulled up to the curb with its side door already open.
They put him inside. The door slid shut.
The redhead got in the van passenger seat, and it pulled away.
The whole thing took maybe fifteen seconds.
I stood on the sidewalk in my broken shoe, shaking, my arm throbbing where the jerk had grabbed it.
Then Donovan was in front of me. He flexed his hand once, the one he’d struck with, and let it drop to his side.
“Are you okay?” His voice was steady. Like he hadn’t just broken someone’s face.
“What—what just happened?”
“That guy was due for a meeting at a police station. No one you need to worry about.” He said it the way someone would give the time if a stranger asked. “Can I walk you to your hotel, Sarah?”
He’d remembered my name.
Nothing about this night made any sense.
But his voice was calm. He was standing far enough away that I didn’t feel crowded. And his hands were at his sides, not reaching for me.
“It’s right there,” I said and pointed at the blue awning half a block away.
“Yes. I heard you tell him that.”
Donovan waited. He didn’t move toward me, didn’t reach for my arm.
He just waited until I started walking, and then he fell into step beside me.
His hand found my back. The touch was gentle, nothing like the grip that had just been on my arm, and I let it stay there because my legs were shaking and the ground wouldn’t hold still.
He walked me through the lobby, past the clerk who barely looked up, to the elevator. Pressed the call button.
“Which floor?”
“Three.”
The doors opened. I stepped inside and turned to face him. He stayed where he was, one hand holding the door. He looked at me with something in his expression akin to curiosity, then joined me inside. He stood a few steps away, arms loosely at his sides. We rode up and the doors opened.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked as we walked into the hallway and the elevator door closed behind him. “It’s not too late to get you medical care.”
I stared at his lips. “Um…” I didn’t want medical care. I wanted him.
I should have said that I’m okay, thank you. I should have said I’m fine, goodnight.
But I wanted to kiss him.
All I could hear was Alyson’s voice in my ear saying that was all she’d hoped for me tonight. Donovan, the only man I would’ve even considered, had suddenly shown back up. It had to be a sign from the universe, right?
I pushed up on my toes and put my hands on his chest. The same chest I’d crashed into on the dance floor. Solid and warm. For one suspended second, his hand came up and touched my jaw. I thought he was going to let me kiss him.
Then my stomach revolted.
The wine came back. The shots, the cocktails, all of it. With a vengeance. Everything right down the front of his shirt.
Oh God.
Oh God.
I turned and ran. Down the hall, keycard already in my hand, fumbling, dropping it, picking it up, jamming it into the slot. The light turned green, and I threw myself inside, slammed the door, and locked it. I stood there in the dark, shaking, with my hand over my mouth and my eyes burning.
Then I slid down the back of the door until I was sitting on the floor with my knees pulled to my chest and my shirt stained. My pride was in ruins.
I was not leaving this room until I could get off this continent.