Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
SCARLETT
I watch Nico walk off, feeling like a bubble of sunshine wants to burst in my chest.
I have to fight the urge to giggle or squeal into my wine. I have no shot at hiding my giddy smile.
It’s all Nico’s doing, of course. I never thought I could enjoy an event like this, not surrounded by people I used to schmooze and being assaulted by memories of a similar place I’d rather forget. On paper, I shouldn’t be having the time of my life tonight.
And yet…I am.
I glance around the ballroom, already wishing Nico were back.
Is this what it means to truly enjoy a person’s company? Wanting them around constantly because they make everything better?
I stifle a laugh at the thought. Enjoying Nico’s company is putting it lightly, I think. It’s more likely that—
“You know, I would’ve had you as a girl who likes white.”
Stiffening, I turn toward the voice at my side.
He’s young and attractive, clearly an athlete in a room like this. With a charming grin on his face and a tie-less, casually unbuttoned white shirt, it’s also clear he’s on the prowl.
I’ve never met him before, so I smile politely and ask, “I’m sorry?”
He nods at the glass in my hand. “You’re drinking red wine. I would’ve assumed white.”
“Oh. Uh, no.”
He tries again. “Can I buy you a glass of white? Maybe you’ll like it better.”
God, I’m so sick of men.
The thought is so jarring that I have to act like I’m wiping my mouth with a bar napkin to hide my laugh. When I’ve finally composed myself, I send him another polite smile and say, “Oh, that’s okay, thank you. I’m fine with this one.”
“Well, how about a cocktail instead?”
I somehow manage to smother my sigh. “Look, I appreciate the offer. But I’m actually here with someone.”
Of course that’s the answer that gets through to him.
“Ah. Sorry, I didn’t realize you were already booked tonight.”
I turn toward him with a frown. “Excuse me?”
He gestures between us with a shrug. “I said I didn’t know you were booked. I thought you were…how shall I say it? Networking.”
My spine goes ramrod straight, dread dripping down the bones.
Shit. Shitshitshit. This is exactly what I was afraid of.
“I think you have the wrong idea,” I say stiffly. And then, a little desperately, I add, “I’m here with Nicholas Price.”
Hotshot seems amused by this information. “Nico? Really? Damn, I didn’t think he’d actually make the call. I figured he’d be too much of a nice guy.”
I try to ignore the comment by taking another sip of my wine, wishing I could will this guy away. I don’t like how this conversation is going.
He doesn’t seem to be bothered by my lack of interest. My skin crawls with the way I can feel him look me up and down. I suddenly hate this dress.
“Damn, why didn’t the agency show me your picture?” he murmurs. “You fit my criteria perfectly. You sure you can’t fit me in before Nico comes back? I promise I’ll be quick.”
I whip my head toward him with a glare before I can think better of it. “I’m sure you would be.”
He lets out a loud laugh. “Ouch. I didn’t think whores had time standards. Figured you’d just want the quick buck.”
And maybe it’s that word, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s being used in a conversation with Nico’s name in it, but I’m suddenly desperate to get out of this situation and away from this guy.
“Look, I’m not here for what you think I am,” I say forcefully, my frustration obvious. “I’m here as Nico’s g-girlfriend—”
But my voice cracks on the word. I’ve never used it before, never even thought about using it, and Nico and I haven’t discussed it—
Hotshot’s eyes go wide, glee and something a little more cruel flashing in them.
“Girlfriend? That’s hilarious.” And when he sees my doubt, my fear, that cruelty sharpens. “Oh, you sweet summer child. You do think he’s serious about you.”
His sarcasm makes anger boil in my veins. I latch onto it, preferring it to this terror.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I bite out.
It doesn’t sway him one bit. In fact, it makes him double down.
“I’ll do you a favor, Pretty Woman,” he says in a low, dark voice. It’s only now that I hear the slurred edge of his words. “I’ll tell you the truth, before you get in too deep. There’s no way a man like Nico Price would date a prostitute. He’s too pure, too traditional.”
With every word, the knife slices deeper. Because he’s saying everything I’ve been secretly worried about, but too scared to voice.
And then he leans back, gives me a once-over of disgust, and cuts the final blow.
“And you’re…well, you’re a whore. Nothing but a hole for lonely men to fuck.”
I think I’m going to puke.
I want to scream, hit him, tell him to take it back. I want to find Nico and beg him to tell me none of it is true.
Instead, I plaster a smile on my face that even my mother would be proud of and say, “Yes, I am. And as I said, I’m spoken for tonight. Excuse me.”
I don’t know how I manage to stand and walk off without tripping over my feet, but I do it. Heading in the direction I saw Nico disappear, I tell myself I just need to find him. When I find him, everything will be alright.
It has to be.