Chapter 34
Anais
I’m in bed with my Kindle, lost in a very spicy workplace romance between a grumpy boss and his assistant when my phone chimes with a notification.
Placing my Kindle on the bed, I grab my phone from the nightstand and frown when I see it’s just Instagram. Unlocking the screen with my face. I tap the notification, only to wish I hadn’t. My stomach twists, pain radiating through my chest.
Because staring back at me is a picture of Evan.
My Evan…
With his ex-girlfriend Valentina.
Cuddled up at an event.
Nausea churns in my gut as I scan the photo. Her smile is wide, possessive, and she clutches his arm like she never wants to let him go.
My gaze shifts to the headline, every word taunting me in its bold font.
Evan Maxwell back with supermodel ex-girlfriend, Valentina Farina?
My heart races. I feel lightheaded. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I’d have hit the floor. How could he do this to me? Yes, Evan made it clear from the start what our arrangement would be, but the asshole could at least show me and our situationship some fucking respect.
Anger replaces the heartache. Exiting the app, I quickly dial Lana’s number. She picks up on the third ring.
“What’re you doing?” I ask in way of greeting.
“Well, I was about to go to bed, but I guess that’s about to change,” she says, chuckling.
“Get dressed. We’re going out.” I tell her, sliding out of my bed.
“Oookay,” she draws out the word. “Not that I don’t want to see you Nais, but can you tell me what inspired this sudden urge to go out?”
I pause, nibbling my bottom lip. I debate how much to share. She doesn’t know about my arrangement with Evan; doesn’t know he took my virginity. But she’s my best friend. She deserves to know the truth.
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain when I see you.”
“Right. And where are we going?” I hear the hint of caution in her voice.
“We’ve got our fake ID’s.” I smirk, “Anywhere we want.” My brows furrow. “Just not the club Evan co-owns with my brother.”
Lana laughs, “Be more specific, Nais. Am I wearing jeans or something slutty?”
“Slutty. Short dress. We’re going dancing,” I mutter absently, my fingers moving over the row of dresses in my closet.
“Oohh, okay.” She hums. “In that case, lets hit Harbor. I fucked a promoter that works there, last month. He’ll take care of us.”
I smile. “Perfect. Meet you outside in an hour?” I ask, settling on a very revealing, very short, pink dress.
“Make it an hour thirty and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she drawls.
I agree, hanging up.
Then I prepare myself for a night of forgetting Evan Maxwell.
My body sways to the music, inhibitions gone as the four vodka cranberries course through my veins. In front of me, Lana dances with abandon, arms in the air as she screams out the lyrics blaring through the speakers.
After I told her everything – about Evan, the sex, the picture on Instagram – she didn’t judge me. Lana dragged me inside the club, bypassing the queue with her promoter friend who led us straight to a private booth, with a bottle of vodka and mixers.
Sure, she was shocked. But even more than that, she was hurt I hadn’t told her. But she listened to every word I said and called Evan every curse under the sun. And now? She’s here, dancing, drinking, laughing. Holding me up, literally and figuratively.
Honestly, I couldn’t ask for a better friend. I make a silent vow to spend more time with her. Lately, I’ve been so caught up in Evan, I have neglected some of my most important relationships. That ends now.
My phone vibrates in the small purse I’m carrying. I freeze my movements, pull it out and nearly drop it. My eyes nearly bug out of their sockets when I see the name flashing on the screen.
Evan.
“What the hell does he want?” I mutter, hitting the fuck you button.
Screw Evan Maxwell.
He doesn’t get to cozy up to another woman in public, then call me like I’m some secret booty call. No way.
I’m about to slide my phone back in my purse, when a message lights up the screen.
Hisroyalassholeness: Where are you? I’ve been outside your door for thirty minutes and you’re not answering.
The audacity. The rage returns, my body heats like a volcano waiting to explode. I glance at Lana, who is now grinding her ass into some guy’s dick.
I get her attention, shouting over the music. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
She waves me off, grinning as she wraps her arms around the guy’s neck, pulling him close. I move through the crowds, swatting off grabby hands as I go, and stepping into the hallway by the restrooms I find a quiet spot, then call him.
He picks up instantly.
“Finally. Where the fuck are you, Brat?” he growls.
I laugh, though there’s no humor in it. “I am at a club. Having some fun. Go home, Evan. Or better yet, go find Valentina to fuck,” I slur.
“You’re drunk.” He states flatly, ignoring the rest of my words.
“And you can go fuck Valentina.” I hiss. “I’m done being your dirty little secret.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I feel his anger and impatience through the line.
“You’re an asshole.” I bite out. “I saw a picture of you with her. At your little event. You said I couldn’t go because of press. And then you show up with your ex-girlfriend.” My breath catches, my emotions getting the better of me. “Screw you, Evan.”
He sighs, and I picture him running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s not what you think.”
My laugh is sardonic. “Really? Because it sure as hell looked like what I think.”
“Where are you?” he repeats, a warning in his voice.
I sigh, running a hand down my face, suddenly feeling exhausted.
“At Harbor, surrounded by hot men.” I’m being petulant. Can’t help it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my friends. Bye asshole.” I end the call before he can respond, smiling to myself.
Screw him.
Slipping my vibrating phone back in my purse, I head back to the dancefloor, stopping by our booth on the way, and taking a shot of vodka straight from the bottle.
The clear liquid burns as it works its way down my throat, leaving a trail of numbness settling over my body.
It’s reckless, drinking like this, but I’m past caring.
All I want is to forget Evan and everything that led me here tonight.
Stumbling back to Lana, I smirk when I spot her now kissing the guy she was dancing with, their movements frantic, almost indecent. But hey, who am I to judge. I admire how unapologetically Lana owns her sexuality.
I tap on her shoulder, waiting for her to look at me so I can let her know I’m back. She absently acknowledges me. Then, without thinking, I grab the first guy that approaches me. He’s cute in that all American kind of way. Preppy, clean cut. The sort of man you’d see walking down Wall Street.
He grins, leaning in and dropping his face to my neck. My stomach twists with guilt, like I’m doing something wrong. Without realizing it, I’ve made the crook of my neck Evan’s place. And now with someone else touching me there, it feels off.
“Hey beautiful. I’ve been watching you all night.” His arms wrap around me. He pulls me close, letting me feel his arousal. I flinch.
My instinct is to pull away. Knee him in the balls and tell him I have a boyfriend. Only, I don’t. Evan’s not mine. Not really. And anyway, he was cozying up to his ex-girlfriend tonight.
“Is that so?” I purr seductively.
His grip on me tightens. He grinds into me harder, mistaking discomfort for desire. I feel sick. Because despite how much I hate Evan right now, I don’t want to feel another man’s cock against me.
“Yes,” he groans. “Have a drink with me?”
I flutter my lashes, knowing I’m only encouraging the situation. “I don’t even know your name.”
His mouth meets my ear. “Grady. The man who’s going to rock your world tonight.” I almost gag at the cheesiness he’s spewing. What’s worse is he genuinely believes it. “And you are?”
“Anais,” I shout, trying to put distance between us.
He doesn’t let me, gripping me tighter. Pulling me closer. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Drink?”
I shake my head. “How about a dance?”
I don’t really want anything from this man.
But if a dance will soften the blow of rejection, I can offer him that.
I’m sober enough to know accepting a drink from Grady would be a bad idea, but intoxicated enough to indulge him with a sway of my hips.
He flashes a salacious smile, then spins me in his arms, and pulls my ass to his cock.
I tense when he presses closer, getting more uncomfortable with every grind against me.
Instead of making a scene, I inhale a deep breath, telling myself it’s just one dance and then I can push him away. Forcing my body to relax, I take a step away from him, putting some space between my ass and his dick. I close my eyes and let my body move to the music.
Grady’s fingers dig into my hips, possessive, rough, and so hard that I wince. He tugs me back, grinding his dirty dick into me once more like his life depends on it. I only have myself to blame, but still. I’m just about to shove him away, shout at him, when he’s ripped away.
People scream; the music stops. I spin around, my eyes widening in horror when I see Grady on the floor. My gaze snaps up, and I almost wither when I spot a furious looking Evan stalking toward me.
“What the hell?” I screech. People part like the red sea, making space for the raging bull closing in on me.
“What the fucking hell is right,” he snarls. “He had his fucking hands all over you.” He grabs my wrist and drags me off the dance floor.
My gaze bounces around the club, trying to locate Lana. I breathe a sigh of relief when I find my shocked friend scrambling behind me.
I turn back to the angry man in front of me, shrieking. “Let me go!”
Evan looks back at me, unbothered, and the picture of calm arrogance. He opens his mouth to speak, but Grady steps between us. “You heard her. Let her go.”
Evan gets right up in Grady’s face. I frantically look around for any sign of security ready to step in and put a stop to this. “You have two seconds to move away from her before I destroy you.”
Grady laughs, looking confident. But the flash of fear in his eyes tells me it’s a front. “And how the fuck will you do that, huh?”
Evan smirks, the look so devilish it sends a shiver down my spine. Grady’s self-preservation must kick in, because he takes a step back, his throat bobbing on a swallow. “First rule of war? Never give your opponents an advanced warning of what will come.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Grady asks, and I wish he would just go away. It was a mistake dancing with him.
Just then, the bouncers charge toward us, ready to break this up.
“It means; you won’t see it coming when I fucking destroy you.” Evan growls. “Now get the hell away from her. I won’t ask again.” Grady moves back, allowing us to step past him. Evan smirks. “Smart man.” He drawls.
“You can’t destroy someone you don’t know,” Grady sneers, obviously deciding he has a death wish.
Evan glances at the security, then turns his cold gaze to Grady. “I don’t need to know you to destroy you, motherfucker.”
And before Grady can say more, security escorts us outside and into the cool night air. Evan ushers me and Lana into his town car, like he didn’t just ruin our night. He takes Lana’s address, repeating it to his driver before settling into the seat beside me.
His indifference, his nonchalance, infuriates me.
This asshole just ruined my night, without a care in the world.
And the worst part?
Despite my anger, a thrill runs down my spine.
Because surely, his reaction means something…
Right?