Chapter 2 Sloane #2
I set my glass back on the bar and retrieve a napkin to wipe my hand. “You’d be surprised what a person can do when they’re properly motivated. All sorts of things that should be impossible become possible.”
Mal’s head swings back and forth between us, her glossy lips twisted in anxious frustration. “Can you guys stop? Just this once, can we have a fun night out together? I mean, when’s the last time we did that?”
Dominic and I both throw her an incredulous look. For once we seem to be on the same page about something. Mal knows good and damn well we have never had a fun night out together.
Her, Eric, and Dominic? Yes.
Me, her, and Eric? Absolutely.
Her and Dominic? Of course.
Me and her? For sure.
But fun isn’t a word I’d ever use to describe an outing where Dominic and I have to interact, and I’m certain he feels the same way, since he always gives me a wide berth anytime we happen to be in the same place.
Only interacting with me when I happen to invade his space, which is usually an empty room or dark corner he’s claimed as his own.
And even then, he always has an insult or disarming look ready to fly.
Some hurtful or below-the-belt quip meant to bring my claws out, so he can drag me down to the pits of hell with him.
It’s a sweet little tradition he started at the very first party I attended with him, Eric, and Mal.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you for an attention whore, Sloane. I guess it’s not enough for you to have my best friend wrapped around your finger, you gotta make sure everyone else has their eyes on you too, huh?”
I shake my head, trying to free myself from the memory and the way his twelve-year-old baritone washes over me like a wave of vengeful fire, turning everything it touches into ash.
Mal’s wide eyes are still bouncing between the two of us, ill-advised hope shining in the amber pools and tugging at my heartstrings.
I can do this for her. Give her this one night of fun where she doesn’t have to worry about me ripping the man’s head off.
Besides, it’ll be good practice for the next ten weeks, when I can’t physically attack him without losing my job and putting my reputation as a consummate professional at stake.
“Fine,” I concede, a ripple of satisfaction zinging through me at the surprised look on Dominic’s face.
He didn’t think I would agree. He expected me to storm out of here in a blaze of fury like I did at the end of our meeting with James yesterday.
Not today, buddy. My lips curve as I tip my head back and smile up at him sweetly.
“Dominic can stay, as long as he promises to hold my purse.”
Before he can answer, I pull the sparkly clutch from the safety of my arm and place it in his big hands.
He doesn’t say a word, but the waves of hostility rolling off of him are palpable.
Mal laughs and puts her bag in his hand too, but the look he gives her isn’t half as heated as the one he fixed me with.
The one that scorches my back as Mal and I weave through the crowd, parting the sea of bodies with our linked hands.
We find a relatively empty spot on the dance floor and smile at each other like fools before breaking out into fluid movements that match the rhythm of the song spilling through the speakers.
“I’m so glad you didn’t let this shit with Nic ruin your night!” Mal shouts, leaning close to me so the words aren’t drowned out by the music.
I smile at her. Even though I’m breathing the same air as Asshole Alexander, I am having a good time. “Thanks for encouraging me to stay.”
She winks at me, but her response is replaced by a gasp when a tall, bald man with mocha skin and a full beard comes up behind her and grabs her by the waist. He’s handsome, and a slightly lopsided smile takes over his face when Mal glances at him over her shoulder then grips his hands to hold them to her body.
It’s universal club speak for why yes, fine stranger, you can just grope me on the dance floor without so much as a hello.
Mal wiggles her eyebrows at me conspiratorially and chucks her chin at something behind me.
I turn and see another man moving through the crowd with his brown eyes set on me.
I freeze, the strongest sensation of dread seeping into my bones as I absorb the meaning behind his look.
Any woman in the club would probably be glad to have his attention on her.
I mean, he’s nice-looking—if you like tall men with smooth skin and a fresh fade.
In another life, he’d probably be an option for me.
Someone to smile and dance the night away with.
Someone to take back to my empty house and hop into bed with.
Someone to run his fingers over my skin and tell me how beautiful I am right before he strips me naked with his teeth and worships my body with his.
Unfortunately for him, and maybe for me, I’m not like any of the women in this club or the girls who used to follow Dominic around in college.
I am, for lack of a better word, uninterested. Not in men, per se, just in their attention and expectations. I have no desire to know them or connect with them physically, emotionally, or anything in between.
And I know that because of my past, I never will.
I just can’t find it in me to get excited about getting to know someone else, and the idea of small talk, first dates, and learning all the little things about someone new just makes me sick to my stomach.
It feels like a cruel joke to have to go through it all over again, especially when I already had my great love.
My person whose arms felt like home, whose heart beat in time with mine.
I’m not crazy enough to believe it will happen for me twice, and I certainly don’t deserve it, not after the way I hurt Eric—letting the poison bubbling inside of me spill out and into our lives, eating through all of our happiness and joy until there was nothing left. Not even him.
Less wallowing, more moving.
I bolt before the smiling man can take another step in my direction.
My legs are steady and sure as they carry me off the dance floor and deposit me at the edge of the room, right in front of the black leather booths Mal likes to sit at when she comes here.
Walking the length of the wall, I search for anything that might indicate which one she laid claim to before I arrived.
My answer comes in the shape of Dominic’s large frame folded awkwardly over the small table where he’s set our drinks and purses.
The hard lines of his face are pulled into a grimace as he stares down at his phone.
I can’t tell if he’s reading an email or having an issue upgrading his Pornhub subscription, and I don’t care as long as he isn’t focused on me.
Mal asked for a fun night, and I’m doing my best to give her that, but if he starts with his smartass comments, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.
“Had enough of the dance floor already?” He doesn’t even look up from his phone, thick fingers flying over the keyboard in rapid succession.
I pick up one of the three bottles of water on the table and crack it open before putting it to my lips and taking a long pull. The cold liquid is refreshing, reminding me of how draining dancing and drinking can be.
“Sure,” I say coolly. “I can rest easy now, knowing everyone in this club has had their eyes on me. You know how us attention whores need to be seen.”
I’m not sure why those specific words come tumbling out of my mouth.
Maybe it’s the memory of his first insult so fresh in my mind or the frustration from him butting into my project with James, but for some reason, I want to bait him.
To remind him that even though I agreed to play nice tonight for Mal’s sake, I haven’t forgotten that he didn’t.
That in all the years I’ve known him, he never has.
But the reward for my unprovoked jab is exactly what I didn’t want: his full attention on me.
The steely, midnight stare with a barely contained fire raging in its depths, the full lips pressed into a sharp, flat line.
And of course, the tick-tick-tick of the muscle in the hard set of his jaw.
Elements for a perfect storm that make my heart start to smack against my rib cage.
I’ve woken the beast.